Next Year in Israel

by Sarah Bridgeton

  “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.

  “That’s not even a rashguard,” Jordyn pointed out. “It’s too baggy.”

  “Your cheetah print is very vogue.” I pulled my arms through the shirt.

  “Thanks,” she said. “Nobody’s going to be wearing a tee shirt.”

  “It’s a retro mix-’n’-clash look.” My reasons for wearing the tee shirt were valid. Klutzy me plus a swimming pool equaled a mega disaster. It wouldn’t be pretty if I lost my balance and had a swimsuit malfunction.

  Jordyn sucked in her cheeks, making her heart-shaped face look pinched. “Promise me you’ll take off that stupid shirt when we get to the pool.”

  I sat down on my bed, unsure what to do. She’d get more annoyed if I kept arguing, and I was already skidding on thin ice with her. Then again, I couldn’t pull off prancing around in a swimsuit as if I didn’t care. My mousy hair, bony shoulders, and nothing-special lips were pretty unremarkable.

  And I was just as gross on the inside. Weak. A failure. The victim. Oh, how I wished I was somebody else—somebody pretty and popular.

  Jordyn looked away from me. Why was I so lame? She wasn’t being mean. She sounded like she was trying to help. I had to get it together and stay focused.

  Mia opened a bottle of suntan oil and squeezed out a line across her collarbone. “I don’t know why I’m bothering. I always burn.” A drop of oil dripped onto her paisley one-piece bandeau. She let the oil sop into her suit and didn’t try to rub it out. Instead, she went for the oil on her collarbone, smearing it across her neck and shoulders.

  “I’m fine once I get a base tan,” I said, relieved we weren’t talking about my tee shirt anymore. Mia’s pale complexion was smothered with freckles, and since I had spent most of the summer inside, I was almost as pale as her. Jordyn already had a bronzed lifeguard tan that made her look like she spent all of her time at the beach.


  We were the last to arrive at the pool, thanks to Jordyn’s insistence we be fashionably late. The American boys were congregated by the diving board, and as we stepped on the pool deck and positioned ourselves inches from them, I realized Jordyn had been right. There wasn’t another nylon tee shirt in sight. I had to take it off, or I’d come across like a prudish bore. But how could I do it gracefully? With my luck, I’d get my head caught in it and not be able to get it off quickly. If the boys would just turn around and face the pool, I could pull it off without a scene. I dropped my towel on the ground and waited for the right moment.

  “Did you girls forget my name?” asked the American guy with black curly hair. He was the same boy who Mia had identified as having stepped on her foot.

  My turn to answer. I was standing directly in front of him, and I hadn’t uttered a single word to him or the other boys since we had arrived. “Ben,” I said and wondered if I should try to smile. He wasn’t bad looking—hazel eyes and clear skin, despite a weak chin.

  “Cigarette?” He held out the pack.

  “I just quit.” What would Mia and Jordyn talk about, in my position? Whatever I said, I had to do it fast. The silence was becoming noticeable. Let him talk, I thought. That way, I wouldn’t say anything retarded.

  He yelled something in Hebrew across the pool to the gorgeous guy—the one who had talked to us in the dining hall.

  “Hottie’s name is Caleb,” Jordyn translated. “They’re talking about their families. Ben’s parents are Israeli and grew up in Caleb’s neighborhood.” Jordyn tapped Ben on the shoulder and said something in Hebrew.

  Ben turned toward us. “Sorry. You don’t speak any Hebrew?”

  “I’m fluent,” Jordyn said.

  “Lo.” Step one for me. I hadn’t messed up my answer. I even threw in the Hebrew word Jordyn had used to make fun of me.

  The tall guy with straight, sand-colored hair spoke. “Sure ya do. You know shalom.”

  “Okay, shalom.” I tried to remember his name and came up blank. I had met him the day before when Leah had the forty of us Americans introduce ourselves. Whoever he was, he had brown eyes, full lips, and good taste in clothes. His boardshorts were the same sky-blue color as my tee shirt.

  He shook his head, passing on Ben’s cigarettes. “I’m Jake, and you are?”

  “Jordyn, Rebecca, and Mia,” Mia said.

  Jake leaned forward. “Who’s got boyfriends at home?”

  My back tensed. The boys at home stayed away from me like poison. If word got around about anyone liking me, that brave soul would have gotten ragged on.

  “Wouldn’t you love to know?” Mia asked.

  “Hmm. That means you don’t.” Jake kept prying. “You would say his name if you did.”

  Mia didn’t miss a beat. “Not necessarily.”

  Jordyn blew smoke rings.

  “What about you, Rebecca?” Jake asked. “Boyfriend?”

  Sweat trickled down my legs. Mia hadn’t answered his question, and making up a phony boyfriend would mean more questions. “Maybe.”

  Mia tapped my shoulder and whispered, “What a cutie,” into my ear. I looked down at the concrete. She giggled.

  “Talking about me, or the maybe boyfriend?” Jake said.

  “No,” I said. “I mean lo.”

  Jake’s eyes wandered up and down my body. “Are you going to take off your shirt?”

  My heart pounded. Did he want me to, or was it a she’s-ugly joke? Guys like him didn’t care what a girl like me looked like. Joke or not, I had to take it off. Not doing it would be way too nonconformist. “Maybe.”

  Ben lit himself another cigarette.

  “Who’s swimming in the races?” Jordyn barked.

  “Hey Jordyn, you got a boyfriend?” Jake asked.

  “You’re kidding, right? ‘Cause I’m out of your league.”

  “Ooh, busted.” Jake winked at us.

  “I asked who’s swimming,” Jordyn said. “It’s Americans versus Israelis.”

  “I’ll swim,” Jake said.

  “Rebecca?” Jordyn prodded.

  I couldn’t say no. It would come across anti-team. “I’ll do the team relay.”

  “Me too,” Mia volunteered.

  I got my shirt off without an incident while Jake and Ben swam in the butterfly race.

  When it was time for the relay, I stood in line behind Jordyn and watched the boys on the grass. Ben’s head was cocked toward Caleb as they jabbered in Hebrew. Jake had on mirrored sunglasses, and his head was turned toward the Israeli girls sunbathing. I couldn’t help but smile. Nobody was laughing at me. I was exactly where I wanted to be: hanging out with adorable guys. Safe from being teased like I had been at home.

  The whistle blew. Jordyn dived in. She glided underneath the water, and I glanced over my shoulder. My Israeli opponent was chatting with her teammate.

  “Go, Jordyn!” I yelled. Win, win, I chanted to myself. Jordyn plowed her way in my direction. You can do it, I thought. Jordyn was inches from me. I exhaled and jumped in once she touched the wall. When I came up for air, the Israeli girl was an arm’s length ahead of me. As much as I tried to catch up, she beat me. In the end, Mia made up for my loss with her win.

  It was clique-divided after the meet was over. The Israelis watched us from their side of the pool. We watched them from our side. “This is lame. I’ll start the party.” Mia toweled off her hair and headed toward their side.

  “We beat them.” Ben picked up Jordyn’s pack of cigarettes.

  “I knew we would,” Jordyn said, as if we didn’t already know that she loved winning. “We almost lost it.”

  My stomach churned into tight circles. I was the only one to lag behind in the race.

  Jordyn’s eyes accused me. “You lost your lap.”

  My past was cropping up, as if I had Loser stamped on my head. Soon, she’d give me a nickname, and I’d be mocked and left out of everything.

  Jordyn spoke Hebrew to Ben.

  Obviously, I was no match for her. She’d tear me all the way down if I said anything. I looked away, at the Israelis. Caleb stood by the edge of the pool, and Mia was talking to him.

  Her hand was an inch from his washboard abs. “In the water.”

  “Lo,” he said.

  “Yes,” Mia insisted.

  How could she do that? Caleb was the hottest guy there. Mia was borderline chunky, but she acted like she didn’t care about that or what anybody else thought. It was similar to Jordyn’s attitude, but less stuck-up. More down-to-earth.

  I could never pull an attitude like that off. Forget about flirting. Heck, I barely got through the Are-you-gonna-take-off-your-shirt? conversation.

  Ben glanced in Caleb’s direction, and Jordyn looked over her shoulder. Mia put her hands on Caleb’s shoulders and pushed him into the pool. The Israeli girls laughed.

  Go Mia. Everybody saw that push. Risky move. Would he be pissed?

  Caleb surfaced and said something in Hebrew. She shrugged and made an oops face, then jumped in. “English,” he said with a smile.

  “Okay. What movies have you seen?” Mia swam around him. He answered her in broken English.

  Jordyn rolled her eyes. Talk about being saved. Who cared what Jordyn was saying? Mia was in the pool with Caleb.

  Ben walked over to the Israeli girls on the lounge chairs. One of them turned over to talk to him. There was more splashing as others jumped into the water, joining Mia’s party.

  “Slut,” Jordyn said as Mia pulled herself out of the pool. And I wondered if Mia had just earned herself a place on Jordyn’s hate list.

  Chapter 5

  OUR SCHOOL WAS THE THREE-story gray building pictured in the study-abroad brochure, and I was impressed by the palm trees and flowers in the courtyard in front of it until Leah handed us our schedule. Every hour from eight AM until six PM was occupied by school or work. Weekends were limited to Friday afternoon through Saturday night.

  “The schedule is kind of heavy,” Mia whi
spered to me. “What about Sundays?”

  “We must work from dusk till dawn,” I said.

  Jordyn yawned.

  “Girls,” Leah said. “No talking. Two unexcused absences from school or work will result in an airplane ride back home. All grades will be in the same History class. You’ll be assigned your jobs tomorrow.”

  The classrooms looked the same as the ones at home, but the biggest difference was the atmosphere. Not all the teachers were organized, and they insisted that we address them by their first names, which felt grown-up, as if we were adults. After our placement tests, Mia and I risked our lives running across the busy two-lane highway to get to the Deleck. Jordyn passed on going with us because we saw Caleb walking to the dining hall with his friends, and she wanted to run into him.

  At the Deleck, the line of waiting people spilled out the door. Food was served cafeteria-style from a long counter. I picked up a red tray and glided it along the metal bars designed as a counter. Mia eyed the French fries under the heat lamp. “Jordyn said the fries are good.”

  My mouth watered. Those fries were thick and oily.

  “What do you want?” asked a twentyish man behind the counter. His English was better than Caleb’s. I sighed in relief that we didn’t have to speak Hebrew.

  “Two falafels with hummus, please,” Mia said.

  He picked up a piece of steaming pita bread from the oven that looked fresh compared to the packaged kind that I had eaten at home, placed three medium deep-fried falafel balls in it, then added hummus, cucumbers, tomatoes, some French fries, and a dollop of tahini-sesame dressing.

  “What’s with fries inside the pita?” I had eaten falafel many times at home and had never seen it served with fries on top.

  Mia licked her lips. “It must be Israeli. I’ll take fries in anything.”

  “Two Cokes, please.” I handed the cashier a gold coin.

  He pulled out two Cokes from the refrigerated case behind him and held out his hand.

  I continued to face him like a moron. I would have given him more money if I knew what I owed him.