Next Year in Israel

by Sarah Bridgeton

Someone behind me sighed. Another person muttered under her breath.

  “I… I don’t speak Hebrew,” I said. The line had grown by ten customers who were probably cursing me.

  An Israeli student in line behind us said, “Two more shekels.”

  I pulled out the coins from my pocket. Were they shekels or cents? I couldn’t remember if a shekel was worth more or less than a dollar. Give me a minute to convert it in my head, I wanted to tell them. The cashier swiped the money away as if my hands were deformed. He gave me our sandwiches, wrapped up to go, then handed the Israeli student behind us a Coke.

  Back at the kfar, we sat on the benches in the school courtyard. I took a bite of my sandwich, and the lemon and garlic in the hummus exploded in my mouth. “Scrumptious,” I said. “A hundred times better than the kfar food, even though I was the foreigner who needed help to pay.”

  Four Israeli girls walked by. We waved, wanting to start a conversation with them, but they laughed and continued walking. I tapped my foot on the bench. “Somebody teach us Hebrew.”

  “We do need to learn Hebrew.” Mia pulled back the wax paper around her sandwich. “It’ll give us clout.”

  “Especially with Caleb.” I wanted to know what had happened between them. Mia had left the pool with him, before Jordyn and me. “He’s friendly.”

  “He is.” Mia took a bite.

  When Jordyn and I got back from the pool, Mia had been on her bed looking through the English-Hebrew Dictionary. She had shrugged her shoulders and given us vague answers about Celeb. I’d imagined that he kissed her in his room after she taught him a new English word.

  “He speaks English well,” I probed delicately.

  Mia swallowed. “He understands a lot.”

  I was on target for getting her to talk, if I could keep my tone neutral. I wiped the corner of my mouth. “He’s cute.”

  Mia took another bite but didn’t chew. “I’m sure he wants to hook up.”

  “Really.” I smirked.

  “Yup,” Mia said. “Sad for him it didn’t happen.”

  We cracked up until we got back to our room.

  ~ * * * ~

  Later, there was a knock at our door. “Can I come in?” a deep voice hollered.

  Jordyn put her hairbrush on the side of the sink and opened our door. “Yes.”

  It was Ben. “I was chosen to be a team leader,” he gloated, making his way into our room.

  “Which means what?” I asked, thrilled to be moving up from “yes or no” conversations.

  He waved the clipboard in his hands. “I’m the grand poobah. I get to manage you worker bees with the Israeli team leaders. Where do you want to work?”

  I bit into one of Jordyn’s Elite chocolate bars, starving because we had missed breakfast. Leah had knocked on our door at seven AM, but Jordyn yelled that we wanted to sleep. I had been surprised Leah went away without a lecture about eating breakfast. When we finally got up, Jordyn gave me a chocolate bar from her candy stash. Since she had called Mia a slut, I had gone from loser to potential friend.

  The candy bar’s strawberry cream filling seeped out. “You want a piece?”

  “Sure. Thanks.” He held out his hand.

  I anxiously snapped off a dry piece. Back home, I didn’t share my food with boys from school. “What’s the hardest job?”

  “Fields.” Ben popped that piece of candy into his mouth.

  “Not in the fields or with the cows,” I managed to say.

  “Don’t want to step in shit?” Ben asked.

  “Exactly,” I said, like Mia and Jordyn would have.

  “The chicken house is gross,” he added, then swallowed his candy. “Slaughtering them.”

  “Do you really have to kill them?” Mia piped in.

  “I’m not working at the chicken house,” Jordyn said.

  Ben pulled a pen from the clipboard handle. “I’m putting you two in landscaping.”

  We had a gardener at home. Every spring, he planted pink azaleas in the flower boxes outside our kitchen window. I had watched him fill up the flowerboxes and knew I could press dirt into a plant. “Okay,” I said.

  Mia smiled. “Doesn’t sound too hard. Thanks, Ben.”

  “It’s not,” Ben said. “Landscaping is in the school courtyard today.”

  Jordyn dropped one of her lipstick cases and spoke to him in Hebrew.

  I watched them enviously. They could talk to any Israeli or American.

  Jordyn seemed to feel my stare. “We should speak English.”

  Ben checked his list. “Jordyn, you can work in the kitchen.”

  Jordyn’s request didn’t surprise me. Word was that kitchen duty was the easiest job because it didn’t involve shovels or hay, and the workers got extra food as a perk, though emptying the food scraps was too disgusting for me.

  After Ben left, Jordyn commented, “Well, his dad has elevated him up the ladder.”

  “How?” Mia asked.

  “He’s some biggie in the army,” Jordyn said. “Poor Ben. He also has to supervise irrigation.” The kfar used plastic pipes to water the grass and plants.

  “He should use his status to get out of the second job,” Mia said.

  “Yeah. Big daddy nepotism,” I said.

  “It wouldn’t work,” Jordyn said. “Supervisors have to work too.”

  “Let’s go,” I said to Mia, and we headed out for landscaping duty.

  My sneakers sloshed in the freshly cut grass as we walked across the common area. I smelled soil and mulch by the three wagons near the school courtyard. Mia and I were the only Americans there.

  “Yes?” our new supervisor asked, barely pronouncing the Y.

  “Ben told us to help.” Mia pointed to herself. “I’m Mia.”

  “We don’t speak Hebrew,” I said, as though it were an invisible handicap.

  Our supervisor frowned and pointed at the dirt in the wagon.

  “His name is Naim,” an Israeli said and handed us two big shovels.

  Hey, Naim, I wanted to answer, but I didn’t.

  “What can we do?” Mia asked.

  The Israeli next to Naim spoke up. “Plant the bush.”

  We filled our shovels in silence and pitched dirt over the shrubs. I accidentally dropped half of the dirt out on my second shrub. “Don’t worry, nameless shrub, Mia will cover you.”

  “We must sound like morons to them,” Mia said.

  “Two morons are better than none.” I picked up my spilled dirt and dropped it in the correct place.

  “At least we aren’t the only Americans at the kfar.” Mia packed it down.

  Naim swatted at a fly matted on his sweaty forehead and walked over to the Israelis loitering by the cooler.

  “Do you have Israeli relatives?” I asked Mia, wondering why she was at the kfar.

  “No. I was bored at home.”

  “My school was such a drag,” I said and pictured myself crying in the bathroom after I had been yelled at in the hallway.

  “You know,” Mia said. “Yearbook committee this and that.”

  “No kidding.” I hadn’t been on yearbook committee. My shoulders tensed as I remembered school back home. It all began in third grade, on a Tuesday morning, as my teacher, Mrs. Goodwin, reviewed our math homework. Bored, I’d looked across the room at my best friend, Grace, and puffed out my cheeks, trying to be funny. Derrick, sitting at the desk next to me, thought I was looking at him and called me a dog face. Everybody around him laughed. Then Derrick barked at me, said I was pug ugly, and called me pugly. Eventually, Mrs. Goodwin told him to stop, but it was too late. That day on the playground, Derrick and his friends told everybody I was Pugly. The name stuck.

  Mia picked up dirt with her shovel. “I was trapped in sameville. My friends all go to the same temple, our parents are all friends, and everybody has the same boring opinions.”

  Sameville sounded okay. Mia obviously felt like she belonged, and that kind of feeling would be like wearing a pair of jeans that fit pe
rfectly. I would’ve done anything to be in her position.

  That day Derrick called me “Pugly” changed everything. Derrick used the nickname whenever he saw me, and besides being humiliated, the comfy feeling I had around my friends disappeared. Like Grace, my other friends got quiet when it happened. I always wondered if they were gonna ditch me because of it. I tried to stand up to Derrick once by calling him fat, but he had turned my “fat” comment on Grace. Luckily, she hadn’t fallen for it, but I’d known I might not be so fortunate when it happened again.

  “Being class secretary was okay.” Mia flicked dirt off of her leg. “I liked that.”

  “‘Course,” I said. “You wanted to make a difference.”

  “Ha. Ha.” She smirked. “Why’d you come here?”

  “Grandma gave me the brochure, and it looked cool.” It had been a no-brainer. It was the only brochure. And after being threatened in front of my house, there was no reason to pass it up.

  “What stuff were you in at school?” Mia asked.

  My right hand started to shake. I couldn’t tell her about school. Somebody like her wouldn’t have hung out with me. Quick. I need a good cover. Something that implied I wasn’t a loser. Something that was cool enough to be perceived as okay. Something that I could use like an oh-well shrug whenever I needed a social crutch. If it was believable and acceptable, it could be my pseudo identity. Nothing overly complicated. I had to pull it off.

  “Honors classes,” I fibbed.

  “You don’t seem that way.” She bit her lower lip. “I mean, you look smart; it’s just that you don’t seem to be obsessed with your GPA.”

  I made a fist to hide my trembling. “Well… I-I aced the placement tests today. I’m in the top ten at home.”

  “It’s not like you were totally uncool. I took GT Science in seventh grade,” Mia said, as if her presence gave the class some much-needed social status.

  I let go of my thumb. She couldn’t find out about my past. It would end our friendship.

  “You know,” Mia said. “If we were back in our old schools, we would never be having this conversation.”

  True. Talking to a loser would have voided her status, and it was no different at the kfar.

  Naim yelled at us in Hebrew, and the same Israeli who had given us instructions spoke again. “Get back to work.” He hollered in Hebrew back to Naim. They both laughed. Mia and I didn’t utter another word until the end of our shift.

  ~ * * * ~

  That evening, the kfar held a special Friday night dinner for the Sabbath. My nerves were dangerously frayed as we walked to the dining hall. I had no idea what prayers would be said. My parents weren’t religious, nor did we go to temple. What if I did something wrong and embarrassed myself? The cool smarty that I was pretending to be would know all the prayers. I could sway back and forth like I had seen the men on the airplane do. Any solo prayers would be tricky. I’d have to excuse myself for the bathroom if I began to mess up.

  “Your dress looks nice,” Mia said in the grassy area by the dining hall.

  I touched the lace trim. Grandma had given me the white dress as a going away present and told me it was appropriate for Shabbat dinners. Jordyn dug her black sandals into the ground. “These shoes kill me.” She picked up her ankle. Her two-inch heels turned her into an Amazon.

  “It hurts to be beautiful.” I needed to get through dinner without doing anything foolish. The Derrick fiasco had taught me a hard lesson. No silly faces or barking sounds.

  Mia adjusted her frilly skirt. “I can’t wear two-inch heels.”

  “Me, neither.” I closed my mouth. They didn’t need to know I was a sometimes-spaz. It could be used against me. When Derrick saw me trip, he’d laugh and yell, “Pugly’s a retard.”

  White tablecloths and flowers transformed the plain dining room into a banquet hall. We sat down at a table near the other American students. Ben and Jake, dressed in khaki pants and button-down shirts, waved to us from two tables over. Leah walked onto the stage next to the piano. We stood up from our chairs.

  Leah nodded at us. “To begin our first Shabbat together, please join me in the blessings.” She turned to the silver pillar-shaped candlestick holders on top of the piano. Time seemed frozen while she struck the match against the matchbook and lit the plain white candles. The flames flickered as she drew her hands toward herself three times, bringing the light into a circle.

  If I did a good job following along, I’d be able to pass myself off as a knowledgeable Jew, which went along with my smart girl identity. I glanced at Mia and Jordyn. They were watching Leah.

  Leah covered her eyes.

  Mia and Jordyn covered their eyes.

  I covered my eyes too.

  Leah continued in Hebrew that sounded similar to the prayers from the airplane, then stopped. The room became silent. I peeked through my fingers at the table of Israeli girls in the front. They had uncovered their eyes. I moved my hands away from my face.

  “Shabbat’s our time for rest,” Leah said. “Join me in singing ‘Shalom Aleichem.’”

  I hummed along with the crowd that was singing with her. Being at the kfar was such an opportunity. For the first time in years, I was Rebecca. I wouldn’t be a failure like I was at home. I’d correct all mistakes. Avoid situations that would shine an infrared light on me. Stay under the radar. Get along with everybody. Pay strict attention to Jordyn.

  Leah smiled. “We’ll conclude with the kiddush and hamotzi.”

  Jordyn gazed at me.

  I fidgeted.

  Mia picked up a small glass from our table.

  I reached for another glass, carefully. My chances of screwing up were skyrocketing—I could sip or eat at the wrong time.

  The prayers stopped. Leah took a sip of wine from her glass.

  Mia and Jordyn swallowed from their glasses.

  I idiotically copied them like a slow mimic.

  Jordyn smiled at Mia.

  Leah put her hand on a loaf of challah and recited more Hebrew, the hamotzi prayer for bread. Mia grabbed the challah on our table, ripped off a piece, and passed it to me. I took a piece of bread and gave the loaf to Jordyn. The egg-flavored bread melted in my mouth.

  “Shabbat Shalom,” Leah said.

  “Shabbat Shalom,” Mia said.

  “Shabbat Shalom,” I repeated.

  Leah walked off the stage toward the vegetarian table.

  Jordyn moved my water glass back, away from her knife. “Are you Jewish, Rebecca?”

  My legs stiffened. “Yeah. The wine here isn’t as good as it is at home.”

  Mia stabbed a piece of chicken from the silver tray. “Are you, Jordyn?”

  Jordyn refilled her water glass with the silver pitcher. “Duh, I know the prayers from Hebrew school.” I would have to dodge the question if they asked about Hebrew school. I had no idea what that was like, and it was the kind of fib I could easily mess up.

  “I loved Hebrew school,” Mia said. My legs tensed. Someone needed to start a virtual Hebrew school for those of us with non-practicing parents. “Please pass the carrots.”

  Jake walked over to our table. “Everyone looks good. We’re having—”

  “All right, loves,” Leah said, behind him. “Your curfew is ten o’clock on Shabbat. I’ll be checking up on you twice tonight.” She moved to the next table.

  Jake bent his head. “Hey, just wanted to invite you to a party in our dorm later tonight. See ya.”

  A party! My first invitation since Derrick had nicknamed me seven years ago.

  “Caleb invited me at lunch,” Jordyn said.

  “Stupid Deleck,” I said to remind her why we hadn’t been there. “Almost kept us off the A list.”

  “He didn’t say you were invited,” Jordyn said.

  “Guess you didn’t understand,” Mia said. “‘Cause he just invited us.”

  Game on. Mia was making it easy for me. The more she and Jordyn bickered, the less likely I was to piss either one of them off.<
br />
  “What should I wear?” I asked.

  “Let’s blow it off,” Mia said, a twinkle in her eye.

  Was she crazy? It was Caleb, Ben, and Jake.

  “I’m going,” Jordyn said.

  Of course she was going.

  “Next time,” Mia said.

  She wasn’t making sense. There was no reason to stand them up. Caleb had been saying hi to us since she’d left the pool with him. Ben and Jake, too. I bit into my soft carrots and wondered if I should go with Jordyn.

  ~ * * * ~

  “I’m going to the beach with Caleb.” Jordyn said as she cracked open her wall cubby the next morning.

  Mia opened her eyes and rolled over to her side. “Who was there last night?”

  “Not telling.” Jordyn spritzed her armpits with deodorant.

  Maybe I should have gone to the party. It could have worked in my favor. If I had gotten through the night without being an idiot, Jordyn might have decided that she liked me.

  “Hanging out here was cool,” Mia said.

  “The best,” I said, wondering how Mia could sound so calm. Jordyn was leaving us out.

  “Better than Truth or Dare?” Jordyn got out a nameplate necklace from her jewelry case.

  On second thought, I had made the right decision. Never-been-kissed me would have freaked if my first mouth-to-mouth was witnessed by everybody. Talk about risks that could backfire. And never mind the questions. There had probably been some good ones. What’s the worst thing you have done? What’s the most embarrassing moment of your life? Who do you dream about?

  “Are Ben and Jake going to the beach?” Mia asked, still facing our cubbies.

  “Yeah. You two aren’t invited.” Jordyn turned on her hair dryer.

  “Rebecca and I already planned to go,” Mia said.

  Not really. Getting there was a problem. The beach was a few miles away, and none of the students had cars at the kfar. There was no bus service because it was Shabbat, so we’d have to walk in the stifling heat, and I’d arrive there a sweaty mess.

  “Whatever.” Jordyn grabbed her hair with a big round brush.

  Mia glanced at me and smiled. “Tell Caleb we’ll see you there.”

  Jordyn pulled her brush tight and ignored us until it was time for her to go.

  ~ * * * ~