Next Year in Israel (2 page)

I pulled my arms out from under hers. “Then why don’t I have friends?”

She didn’t answer, and I could tell from her silence that she was stumped.

“They’ll keep torturing me.” I felt like my future was slipping away. “They…” I paused, wondering if she could understand what I was trying to say. “They won’t let me move on.”

“You have to take your finals,” she said, quietly. “I’ll drive you to school and pick you up.”

She got it. Instead of telling me to ignore Derrick, as she had done before, she was trying to protect me.

“After summer,” I said carefully, hoping she’d continue to be supportive, “I want to go to a different school.” There was no other way to stop being victimized. I had to go somewhere where Derrick and his friends weren’t around. It wasn’t the first time I had asked to transfer. I had begged her numerous times before, and she had turned me down for reasons that hadn’t made sense to me.

“I think it might be a possibility.” Her forehead creased. “Let’s get through your finals.”

There was hope. I was gonna change who I was and become a normal sixteen-year-old girl named Rebecca, who went shopping with her friends and to the movies with her boyfriend. I leaned over and hugged her. “Thanks.”

She squeezed me tight. “I expect you to ace your finals.”

“I will,” I said through the lump of happiness that was coiled in my chest.

She took a fresh tissue from the box on the coffee table and handed it to me. “I thought I could make it go away.”

“I know.” I wiped my nose with the tissue. “When’s lunch?” I asked, although I already knew. We had been eating lunch at noon every day, the same time we ate on the weekends. I guess I just needed to talk about something normal.

“Noon.” Mom nodded, pleased that I was trying to calm down. “We’ve got leftovers in the fridge from dinner last night.”

“Okay,” I said. The leftovers were from Thai Bistro, one of my favorite restaurants.

“Want to come to the grocery store with me after lunch?”

“Nah.” The grocery store was her chore. I never went with her unless I had to, because she used coupons and it took her forever to get through the checkout line.

“I can see you’re feeling better.” She picked up the mail I had thrown on the floor. “Bills. Bills. Junk. Another bill. Hmm. You got something from Grandma.” She handed me a manila envelope.

“It’s too big to be a card.” Grandma had been sending me cheesy I-love-you-don’t-give-up cards, which I kept on my nightstand, next to the books from my therapist.

“Open it.” Mom stood up. “Could be a present.”

I tore it open, practically ripping it apart. It was a brochure; the glossy cover had a picture of four smiling teenagers. Two boys and two girls, dressed in jeans and tee shirts, were hanging out on a bench next to a palm tree. A clear blue sky and a nondescript three-story building stood behind them. It looked like heaven to me.

Chapter 3

“THERE’S A SPACE.” I POINTED to a yellow Mustang pulling out in the next row. Mom stepped on the gas pedal and steered around the SUV in front of us before it could beat us into the spot. I couldn’t help but smile as we parked; I’d been waiting for this moment since I had seen the brochure Grandma had sent.

“Good,” Mom said. “We’re not that late.”

“Yeah.” I was thrilled to be at the airport, on my way to a new school. It wasn’t just a school where Derrick and his friends wouldn’t be; it was a study abroad program in Israel!

I had been surprised by the school location. Israel wasn’t exactly on my list of places to visit. We weren’t religious Jews. In fact, we never went to temple. Why would I even consider going to the Holy Land? But Mom and Dad, who had never been to Israel either, told me they thought it was a good idea because it was completely away from home, which had stunned me more.

After my initial shock wore off, I looked through the brochure again. So it was in a foreign country. I liked to travel, and it’d be an adventure. Classes were in English. There’d be new places to explore, and other American students would be with me.

“Nervous?” Mom asked delicately.

“Not really.” I tried to sound convincing. The more I thought about it, the more it made sense. Rumors traveled far and wide, especially those that included a suicide attempt and a harassment complaint. If the kids at my new school knew anything about my past, I’d be stuck with the same loser status. In a foreign country, I wouldn’t have to worry about anybody running into a friend of a friend who maybe knew Derrick or somebody who had been at my old school. Why not go millions of miles away, where I could reinvent myself?

“Four months is a long time.” Mom unbuckled her seat belt.

“Not long enough.” I got out of the car. As I had expected, Derrick continued to humiliate me when I returned to school for my exams. My heart flip-flopped. Half a school year wasn’t nearly long enough. But I didn’t have much of a choice, since this was what my parents wanted. Half a school year would have to do. It sure was better than nothing.

A porter pushing an empty cart approached us. “Can I help you, miss?”

“That would be great.” I opened the back of our station wagon.

“Thank you,” Mom said, “but we’ll get it ourselves.”

“I’ll wheel my suitcase.” This was a
real
chance to transform myself. But what if my parents changed their minds at the last minute and decided I wasn’t ready to go? Mom had hovered over me all summer, afraid I would slip into another bout of depression.

Summer had been a difficult three months that seemed to last forever. I had no friends, and my babysitting clients dropped me. I kept busy reading, watching TV, and doing more chores than I usually did, to prove that I was serious about getting on track. The bright spots were getting the program acceptance letter and the week Grandma came to visit. I took a deep breath. Mom and Dad
had
to let me go.

Inside the terminal, Dad was waiting for us in the ticketing area, his headset clipped to his ear. He raised his hand in a quick wave, his lips still moving while he continued his conversation. Mom nodded her head in a
tsk-tsk
. “I see your father’s here.” She kept her stare focused on other people so she wouldn’t have to look directly at him. Once we were standing next to him, I dumped my carry-on bag on top of my suitcase and let out a small sigh. Dad glanced at Mom and slipped his hand through his thinning hair, then said to whoever he was talking to, “Gotta go; they’re here. See you tonight.” He turned away from Mom, towards me. His bushy eyebrows crumpled. “Hi, Rebecca.”

I threw my arms around him. He squeezed me tight; his hugs were always tighter than Mom’s. I let go of his shoulders and unwrapped myself from him. He looked at Mom again. “Laura.” I cringed at how uncomfortable he sounded, like they were strangers who hadn’t once been in love.

“Steve,” Mom said coldly. “I’m surprised you could break away from your life.”

Dad frowned. “Well, I’m surprised you’re only forty minutes late.”

Ugh. Couldn’t they bicker in private? It was Day One of my reinvention. Dad wheeled my suitcase toward the line that snaked around several lanes. His phone rang, and he eyed his screen.

Mom scowled. “Turn off your phone.”

My nerves jittered. They had better not have a shouting match while I was meeting my new friends. I had almost asked Dad to skip coming to the airport. Not that I didn’t want him there—I did. It was just easier if I dealt with my parents separately.

Dad’s phone continued to ring. “It’s the office. I have to answer.” He turned his back to us. “Steve Levine.”

“Your daughter’s leaving.” Mom folded her arms across her chest.

“Mom…” I lowered my voice to a whisper. “Please don’t pick a fight.”

“He can turn off his phone,” Mom had to say. “It’s rude.”

Rude or not, she was causing a scene. “You’re embarrassing me.” She needed to behave. The next few hours were crucial—first impressions count, and I wanted to come across like a normal girl whose parents were nice.

“I don’t mean to embarrass you,” she muttered, and I knew she’d be quiet for a while. As the ticket agent helped an elderly couple, I wondered about my roommates. The acceptance letter hadn’t come with any information, and nothing had been posted on the school website. Mom had called to ask, but she’d been told they would be assigned once we arrived in Israel. Whoever my roommates were, I couldn’t wait to find out more about them. Mom fished out a package of breath mints from the bottom of her purse, and I eagerly took one. Didn’t want to start my new life with bad breath.

It took a long time to get through the check-in counter. I took a deep breath once we arrived at the crowded waiting area. It was the moment I had dreamed about for months. The forty other teenagers who would be at my school were meeting each other. Most had on nametags. I got a blank nametag from the chaperon, a thirty-something man who would accompany us on the flight. With shaky hands, I printed my name neatly and stuck the nametag on my white eyelet shirt. I had selected that shirt for my going-away outfit because it was pretty but didn’t scream look-at-me. As Dad spoke to the chaperon, Mom and I stepped closer to the other teenagers, standing next to a tallish girl wearing a skin-tight NYU tee shirt.

“This is Jordyn,” Mom’s voice echoed as she eyed the loopy handwriting on Jordyn’s nametag. I shifted my weight. I was sixteen, not five.

Jordyn looked me over.

I smiled at her olive-colored eyes. “Hi.”

“Are you a native New Yorker?” Mom asked. “We’re from Boston and came down last November for our cousin’s wedding. Sophie didn’t realize it was the same weekend as the New York City Marathon until it was too late. Just about every hotel was booked up. Luckily, it was a small wedding, and we stayed at my sister’s house in Brooklyn.”

Mom was boring her. Jordyn didn’t want to hear about my cousin’s wedding.

Jordyn tucked her brown hair behind her ears. She had doubts about me. I could feel it from the way she wasn’t making an effort to talk.

“Know anything about roommates?” Mom asked in a voice that tried too hard.

“No,” Jordyn said. “Excuse me. I’m going to the restroom.”

Mom waited until she disappeared into a throng of parents. “She might be your roommate.”

“Stop getting involved.” It was too early for a roommate discussion. Everybody needed to get a sense of who they wanted to be friends with.

Mom’s lips went thin. “I was only trying to help.”

“Laura, Rebecca’s right,” Dad said, and I smiled. One benefit of having divorced parents who couldn’t stand each other is that one of them usually took my side. Didn’t matter what was at stake. They both wanted to be my favorite.

“There are other schools.” Mom’s lips softened into a pout.

I moved my foot back. She couldn’t flake on me. I had done everything she had outlined. Good grades. Extra chores. Therapy. “I can handle it. I—”

“It’s okay if you decide to not go,” Mom said. I couldn’t blame her for wondering if I wanted to chicken out. It’s not like I had been to Israel before or spoke Hebrew.

“She’ll be fine,” Dad said. “It’ll be a good experience.”

I watched Jordyn, who was huddled by her family. Another girl was there, standing between Jordyn and her mother. The other girl was the same height—tallish—and had the same black hair as Jordyn’s mom. She had to be a sister. Maybe she was close in age. Jordyn was talking to her mom while the possible sister bit into a chocolate chip cookie. I waved when Jordyn glanced at me. She turned her head as if she was listening to her Mom. Too bad I couldn’t bottle up Dad’s confidence. Obviously, I hadn’t given the best first impression.

“Parents, it’s time to say good-bye,” our chaperon announced. “I’ll text you after we get through security, when we reach the gate, and after we board the plane.”

“You’re going to love it.” Dad bent over and kissed my forehead.

“I’ll miss you,” Mom said with tears in her eyes. A lump twisted in my throat. When she came home from work, I wouldn’t be hunched over my homework at the kitchen table. Mom pulled on her purse strap, not wanting to say goodbye, although we both knew I had to do it. She gave me a suffocating hug, like we were saying goodbye forever.

“Bye, Mom,” I said and followed the group, thrilled to be on my way.

~ * * * ~

On the airplane, I ripped off my nametag, settled into my seat next to a woman reading a book in Hebrew and panicked. My excitement quickly crashed after I had left my parents. Was Jordyn’s snub a bad omen that other students wouldn’t like me? I certainly didn’t want a repeat of the loser status that I had at home, and I hadn’t uttered a single word to anybody else.
Think positive,
I told myself. The snub hadn’t been witnessed by any onlookers. There were plenty of other students. Surely, I’d find friends, and she wouldn’t be a problem.

As the plane reached cruising altitude, I thought about my situation. Nobody in Israel knew about my dirty little secret, and wouldn’t suspect anything as long as I kept it to myself. No doubt, I was gonna keep quiet about who I was and what I had done. Bye-bye hospital memories. Bye-bye loser status. Bye-bye old me—my future was beginning. I closed my eyes, because even a girl on the verge of a makeover needs her beauty rest.

After I woke up, the sky had changed from pitch black to light, and I heard low-pitched voices chanting together from the back of the plane, where several Orthodox men had gathered to pray. I recognized their leather arm straps from the documentary I had watched at Dad’s apartment one Friday night. On the way to the bathroom, I got a better view of them. They were swaying back and forth, completely immersed in their prayers, unaware of me or the other passengers talking around them. I tiptoed down the aisle, hoping I wouldn’t disturb them, and I had almost reached my seat when something
thudded
beneath my foot.

“Oops,” I said to a girl with long auburn hair and freckles. The dark green swirl in her tie-dyed shirt matched the hideous nail polish on her toes, but those fringy jean shorts were something I would have worn.

“It’s only my foot.” She tapped her brown Birkenstock. “You’re the fifth person to trip.”