“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 th
at 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.”
“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. “Sc
hnitzel.”
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.
Next Year in Israel Page 2
