Next Year in Israel (3 page)

“Why don’t you move it?” I asked, curious. I would’ve stretched my foot underneath the seat, away from the other passengers walking up and down the aisle.

“Why should I have to move?” She grinned. “People should watch where they step.”

I grinned back. “I guess.”

“Are you on the study abroad program?” she asked.

“Yeah. I’m Rebecca.”

“Mia.” Sounding perky, Mia flexed her toes and pointed to the girl asleep next to her—a girl with brown hair and an NYU tee shirt. “She’s on our program, too. I’ll introduce you when she’s up.”

“I met Jordyn earlier,” I said, ready to shed my past and transform myself.

~ * * * ~

By the time the flight landed and we reached the customs line, cliques were forming, and I felt as though I needed to start making friends. Jordyn was nowhere in sight, so I walked up to the best candidate I had for a friend.

“Hey,” Mia said before I had chance to talk. “Look at the soldiers everywhere.”

It was more security than I had ever seen at an American airport. Two armed soldiers watched us from their lookout spot by the bathrooms. Three more patrolled around the lines, their machine guns casually slung over their shoulders, like they were welcoming us to a party. One soldier was talking to the boys in line. He looked up and gave us a thumbs-up. The female soldier next to him nodded. She had a gun too. At least the guns weren’t pointed at us—and, to be honest, they seemed like scenery props. People were coming and going as if the soldiers weren’t there, as if the rifles were merely paint on the wall.

“You can butt in line with me,” Mia said.

I pushed my luggage cart around. “Thanks.” Everything would be fine. Mia and I were just about friends.

“That soldier by the water fountain is drop-dead gorgeous.” It was Jordyn’s voice, strong and confident. “I’m not hooking up with an American.”

I looked away from her, to the water fountain. The soldier smiled at her.

Maybe Jordyn’s earlier snub hadn’t been intended? It could have been new-school anxiety, or a sneer meant for her sister.
Best to pretend it didn’t happen.

“The guys at the end of the line are with us,” Mia said. “Who’s good-looking?”

I strained my neck, trying to see around the luggage carts. “I can’t see.”

A fiftyish-looking woman walked up to us. “Hi, girls. I’m Leah, the program director,” she addressed us in a motherly voice. “Lovely day, now that we’re all here. When you get through the queue, stand under the American Program sign.”

I loved her British accent and black hair in a bun.

As we waited under the American Program sign, Jordyn flipped her hair and smiled at the boys from our school. My stomach stopped rumbling. Next to her, I wasn’t that much of a mess. We were both blessed with tall thin bodies; the main difference between us was in our bones. Her broad shoulders gave her a stunning presence. My own small frame and delicate shoulders were almost inconspicuous.

“I’m just dating Israelis,” Jordyn said.

“Israeli, American. Whatever.” Mia waved at a guy who had black curly hair. “He stepped on my foot on the airplane.”

Should I toss my head or smile? Acting like I was a beautiful jock or a modern flower child would have been a stretch, since I didn’t have perfect hair, Birkenstocks, and an attitude. I lowered my chin, annoyed at myself. My makeover was supposed to be starting, yet there I was stalling, the mounds of fear oozing inside of me.

~ * * * ~

Outside the bus window, I was awed by the palm trees and contemporary stucco buildings. There were soldiers everywhere on the roads. Some waved and smiled at us when we passed their jeep convoy. Four soldiers were walking toward a bus stop further down the road. Two of them were women, and they stood between the men, laughing at an inside joke.

“Your school is called a
kfar
,” Leah said into the microphone. “It’s also a school of agriculture for five hundred Israeli students. You’ll be working side by side with them.”

I laughed to myself, because the only job I’d worked before was baby-sitting. The
kfar
brochure had clearly stated that we’d be working on the farm, and it was discussed in the interview.

I didn’t have a problem with living on a farm. I was willing to do just about anything to get away from my old life, even harvest dirt from the ground.

Leah turned up the microphone. “A few rules. Curfew is eight PM, and you’ll be checked on by me every night. Anyone who breaks curfew or violates the no drug or alcohol policy will be sent home immediately. I’ll read the list of room assignments.” My back knotted up.
I had better not get stuck with Jordyn.
Mia looked at me as Leah spouted off names, and I hoped I didn’t look worried. “Room two,” Leah called out. “Mia and Rebecca.” What a relief. Mia seemed like she was good roommate material. “And,” Leah continued, “Jordyn’s also in room two.”

The three of us?

Jordyn snickered at Mia.

A stab of fear jabbed me. What if Jordyn’s earlier brush-off had been intended and she did it again in front of Mia? I could be the roommate-reject.

“Cool,” Mia said.

Jordyn looked straight at me and didn’t answer.

“Great,” I said. I was going make the best of the situation. Jordyn and I would get to know each other better. We might even become friends who borrowed each other’s clothes.

We spent the rest of the bus ride practicing Hebrew. I didn’t know any Hebrew, and I listened to Mia shout out a word in English. Jordyn answered each word with the Hebrew equivalent, then Mia and I would repeat it.

It was hard to believe when the bus turned into the
kfar
, because a suburban sprawl of apartments and office buildings surrounded it. I had assumed that a farm would be located in the middle of nowhere. The sign was marked in Hebrew and English off a busy two-lane street. Just past the sign was a guard station, where the guard waved us in. Leah pointed out the buildings: school, dining hall, dorms, fields, stalls for the cows, and the chicken coop. Flowers and trees were planted everywhere, though the buildings looked like squat concrete huts.

Our first meal in the dining room was kind of like being at a mess hall, except the
kfar
had sturdy plastic tables and chairs. Two Israeli students rolled up a cart and placed a tray of breaded meat patties on our table.

Mia took a piece. “Schnitzel.”

I filled my plate with celery stalks from the raw veggie tray and stabbed my fork into the schnitzel. “Rubbery and lukewarm.”

A second food cart stopped at our table. The student handed Mia a platter of rice.

Jordyn held up an orange plastic plate. “Look at these ugly dishes for our gourmet food.” She pointed to the two long tables in front of the stage. “That’s the vegetarian section.”

Mia scrunched her eyebrows. “How do you know about a veggie section?”

“My grandmother’s Israeli.” Jordyn grinned. “Her friend has a grandson who graduated from here last year, and I Facebooked him last week. He told me if you sit there once, you have to sit there for the rest of the year.”

“Once a veggie, always a veggie,” I said.

Mia laughed.

Jordyn picked up the small bucket on the edge of our table and turned to Mia. “For our crumbs.” She sniffed. “Smells gross.” Four Israeli boys at the next table eyed Jordyn. She pushed her shoulders back. “There’s a restaurant across the street at the gas station. The food is supposed to be good.”

I raised my eyebrows, despite her attempt to ignore me. Good food in a gas station?

“The Deleck,” said one of the Israeli boys as his dark eyes skimmed us.

My face flushed. He had a gorgeous face; dreamy brown eyes, an olive complexion, and a cleft chin.

“Have you eaten there?” Mia asked him.

“Duh. He’s eaten there,” Jordyn answered, then said something to him in Hebrew. He turned to his friends and continued in Hebrew.

“They don’t speak Hebrew,” Jordyn said, as if we hadn’t figured out she was talking about us.

“I know a little,” Mia chimed in, then said something in Hebrew.

Jordyn watched me, waiting for me to say something in Hebrew. I kept quiet, but I managed a weak smile.

“No kidding. She doesn’t know any Hebrew,” Jordyn said.

My hands started to sweat. I didn’t remember the Hebrew words Jordyn had taught us on the bus. The cart stopped at our table again; this time it was stacked with dirty dishes and silverware. I was never so grateful to see dirty dishes in my life. Jordyn dumped her half-eaten rice into the bucket and forgot about me. “Leftovers,” she said, “will be served at the next lunch shift.”

~ * * * ~

Our dorm was a two-story tan hut. I followed Mia and Jordyn through the long hallway, to the bottom corridor leading to Leah’s office. Once we passed Leah’s office, we swung right and went down another long corridor until we reached the door closest to the bathroom. That was it. Our room.

Mia slid open the door. “We have to live here?”

The beds were metal with skinny half-inch-thick mattresses looking like the trundle bed Dad had at his apartment. “It’s beautiful,” I said. “The TV must be hiding in the closets.”

“No closets, either,” Mia said.

Jordyn pulled out the wood knob on the wall, exposing tattered built-in wall shelves. “This is disgusting. I need more room to hang up my clothes.”

The only useful piece of furniture in the room was a single-basin sink partitioned off in the front. “I’ll take the bed by the window,” I called out, wanting some privacy from the two side-by-side beds. The sheets were a hospital shade of white, decorated with pink stripes. I touched the scratchy wool blanket. “Soft.”

Mia walked over to the window. “There’s a hole in our screen.”

The hole in the screen was as big as a quarter. I was sorry that I had picked to be near it.

“There’s a roach on my shelf,” Jordyn shrieked. “We’ve got to patch the window.”

“We’ll tell Leah to call maintenance,” Mia said.

“Maintenance? There’s no maintenance in a place like this,” Jordyn said. “Give me a tee shirt. Whoever lived here before us left a roll of tape in the closet.”

Mia threw Jordyn an orange shirt from her suitcase. I should have brought my own pillow, because the revolting
kfar
one was rock hard, with drool stains from a previous owner. I slipped my pillowcase over the pillow. “Fresh and fluffy.”

“I’m checking out the bathroom,” Mia said as Jordyn taped the tee shirt onto the screen. Once Mia was out of our room, I wondered how to handle Jordyn. Should I be sweet and pretend I had no clue she didn’t like me? Or should I be quiet?

It was sort of uncomfortable because we were alone, and I wasn’t sure what to say while she organized her makeup in a humongous black makeup case. I stayed near my cubby, not venturing to go near her. Good thing I hadn’t finished unpacking. I took my time putting my clothes away, refolding everything because wrinkled tee shirts drove me nuts, plus it gave me something to do. After what seemed to be forever, Jordyn walked over to her purse that was on her bed and took out a box of cigarettes.

“Are you fluent in Hebrew?” I asked, hoping to thaw her dislike of me.

“Grandma speaks to me in Hebrew,” she said. “Want one?”

I pulled out a cigarette, even though I didn’t want one. I had never smoked, but it wasn’t the time to refuse anything from her—ciggies could be our thing. She gave me a light, and I took a short puff. It couldn’t be that hard of a stretch. Surely, I could blow out smoke.

“Is this your first time smoking?” Jordyn said in a snotty tone. “You didn’t inhale.”

“I… I smoke a different kind,” I inhaled gently.

“What kind?” she sounded skeptical.

“Marlboro. Not these Time ones.” I felt my face flush as a burning sensation went down my throat.

She exhaled. “I knew it; you’ve never smoked.”

My stomach churned. “I quit for a long time ‘cause Mom caught me and threatened to hang out with me on weekends if I didn’t stop.”

Mia walked into the room. “The bathroom’s an ugly pit. No shower curtains or doors. I’m telling my parents to send me Charmin toilet paper and Doritos.”

“Yeah, that toilet paper—” Jordyn held out the Camel box to Mia “—is like sandpaper.”

“No thanks.” Mia looked Jordyn in the eye. “I don’t smoke.”

Jordyn tossed her Camels on the bed and gave me a piercing
Yeah-right
look. “When did you start smoking, Rebecca?”

No doubt, she didn’t believe me. Why couldn’t I be a better liar? “Um, a year ago,” I said.

“Ever try to quit?” Mia asked.

“Uh… in April. I really should try again. It’s so bad for you.” The need-to-quit line—I should have used it from the get-go.

“
Lo
.” Jordyn turned up the corners of her mouth and turned to Mia. “By the way, that means
no
in Hebrew.”

“Yeah, I know,” Mia countered apathetically, uninterested in Jordyn’s tutorial.

“Rebecca doesn’t,” Jordyn said and giggled.

I froze. I needed to do something, fast: align myself with Mia. She had something in her that I liked. I wasn’t quite sure what it was. But I hoped it would be enough to keep Jordyn off my back.

Chapter 4

“REBECCA, I DIDN’T SEE YOU change into your bathing suit,” Jordyn said before the swim meet on our second day. Leah had set up the swim meet as an icebreaker activity.

I stretched my arms and arched my back. It had taken me an hour to fall asleep the night before as I tossed on the thin
kfar
mattress, listening to Jordyn and Mia talk about clothes and music, praying bugs didn’t infiltrate the orange patch.

Jordyn looked at me like a queen in charge of her subject. “That suit looks good on you.”

A compliment? My black strappy tank paled in comparison to her cheetah string bikini. “Thanks.” I wondered why she was being nice. She hadn’t said anything remotely kind to me since our smoking incident.

“Why aren’t you in a bikini?” She knotted the super-skinny strings on her bottom tight.

I picked up a blue nylon tee shirt from my wall cubby. “Not my style.” I had tried on a zillion bikinis during a three-hour shopping ordeal that ended in a fashion letdown.