How to Ruin Series Part 67

"This is the military, Amy. I can't spend time with you here like we did last summer. I'm a soldier now."

"Well, now I'm a soldier too. At least for a little while. And we're spending time together right now, aren't we?"

"Ze'heruit Gefen," Nimrod calls out, startling me. "Ata holech al chevel dok."

"Sababa," Avi answers back, then says to me, "I can't do this."

"What did Nimrod just say?" I ask.

"He said I should watch out because I'm walking a thin line."

Nimrod frowns at us. Avi and I both stay silent, ignoring the warning, until Nimrod shrugs and walks away.

"What can't you do?" I finally answer.

"Be specific."

Avi rakes his hand through his hair, even though in actuality he's just raking his hand over his growing-out buzz cut. He looks me straight in the eye and says, "I don't want you here."

I think my heart just dropped into the pit of my stomach. "Why not?"

A sound to our right makes Avi tense as he surveys the source of the noise. It's only an American guy from my unit on his way to the bathroom.

"I don't want to upset you, Amy, but ... I can't do my job when I have to check up on you, worry about you, or make sure you're okay," he explains when the guy is out of sight. "You're a distraction."

"And what about that Liron girl in your unit? She's a girl. Why aren't you worried or distracted by her?"

"She's not my girlfriend. You are. And she's Israeli- you're American."

"So if I was Israeli, you'd be fine with me being here?"

"If you were Israeli, you wouldn't have a choice. You'd be required to serve in the military. But you're American."

Yeah, technically. But ... "My dad is Israeli, so that makes me half Israeli. And I'm Jewish. I've heard that every Jewish person can automatically get Israeli citizens.h.i.+p just because they're Jewish."

"But you're not Israeli, Amy. Tell me you're okay with trading in your designer sungla.s.ses and designer clothes." He takes my hand in his and looks at my painted nails. "And your pink nails, for dirt buried under your fingernails."

I pull my hand away. "For your information, Avi, I don't even own designer sungla.s.ses." Okay, so technically I owned them a few hours ago, before they fell into the pee/p.o.o.p hole in the bathroom.

But I'd rather die than admit that fact. "And even though I do have painted nails, and I'd rather be at the beach than learning how to march in formation," I continue, examining my nails and noticing a new chip in my polish on my index finger that I'll have to fix later, "I'm doing this for you ... for us."

"Gefen!" a guy yells out. That guy just happens to be none other than Sergeant B- S.

Oh, no! We're totally busted!

Avi straightens and whirls around.

"Ken, Ha'mefa'ked !" he says, then salutes to the sergeant.

Sergeant B-S barks out some command in Hebrew. Then he says, "Amy, go eat.

Don't stop on your way there."

"It's my fault that Avi and I are alone," I tell Sergeant B-S. "I-"

Avi takes my elbow and gives it a gentle squeeze, cutting my explanation short. "Just do as he says. I would make that an order, because I'm a higher rank than you. But I know you better than to do that. So I'll say please."

"I'm sorry I got you in trouble," I tell Avi quickly, then run to the cheder ochel.

Once there, everyone is busy eating dinner. Miranda waves me over. "Amy, over here!" I sit next to her and she pushes a plate full of food at me. "Here. I got you food."

I don't feel like eating, but know I need my strength. I nibble on bread and choke down the Israeli salad (which doesn't have any lettuce-what's up with that? It's just tomatoes, cuc.u.mbers, and onions). Every second or two I glance at the door to see if Avi walks in. I wonder how much trouble he's in and wish we could have avoided getting caught altogether.

Five minutes later (which means I checked the front entrance about three hundred times), Avi walks in with the sergeant. Neither look happy.

Avi's gaze briefly meets mine before he sits with the rest of the Sayeret Tzefa squad.

"Where were you?" Tori says to me from the opposite side of the table.

"In the bathroom," I lie.

"Oh, really? Because I saw you go off with that Israeli guy you hugged this morning and I was worried. I mean, I know the rules state we can get kicked out of the program if we're caught fooling around."

"So you told the sergeant?"

"Oh, no. Actually I told Ronit I was worried something happened to you. Of course she was talking to Sergeant Ben- s.h.i.+mon at the time." Tori puts her fingers to her lips and sucks in a breath. "I didn't get you in trouble, did I?"

I don't buy her fake concern for a second. I let out a big, hearty chuckle.

"No."

Tori is officially a person I will never trust. The girl is as manipulative as this girl Roxanne at my school.

Tori now gestures in the direction of Avi's table. "How do you know him?"

"He's her boyfriend," Miranda informs her cheerily. "They've been dating for a year."

"Wow. A long-distance relations.h.i.+p?"

"Yep," I say.

"So are you guys exclusive or what?"

That's a tricky question. Avi and I agreed to have a don't ask/don't tell policy since we're apart for such long periods of time. If I go on a casual date, I'm not going to tell Avi. He's not going to tell me if he's been on one, either. Avi and I are boyfriend and girlfriend, but we're trying to be realistic about our relations.h.i.+p.

"He's not available, if that's what you're thinking," I say, more defensively than I mean to.

If they weren't aware of it previously, our entire table now knows I'm dating Avi.

I try not to glance at him while we're eating, but I can't help it. A few times I catch him looking back at me, but as soon as we make eye contact he breaks it.

This is definitely not turning out the way I expected. Has coming here been a huge mistake?

After we're done eating and sc.r.a.pe our plates into the big garbage bins (that don't have liners so I'm not sure how they clean them), we're excused to our barracks. I try to linger, hoping to exchange a few words with Avi, but Ronit comes up to me with a big frown on her face.

"Amy?" she says.

"Yeah."

"Follow me."

9.

Is it any wonder the person who invented pushups hasn't come forward to claim their invention?

It's just me and Ronit walking away from everyone else. I follow my instructor to an open area, beyond the barracks. To my surprise, Avi and Sergeant B-S are waiting for us. Avi is standing at attention.

"Stand next to Avi," Ronit orders.

I have to get Avi out of trouble. I'm the one who lives in the gray areas of life, not Avi, so he shouldn't be reprimanded.

"We're very disappointed in both of you," Ronit says.

"It was my fault," I admit to our superiors. "I begged him to talk to me in priv-"

The sergeant, with a very p.i.s.sed-off look on his face (which has just gone a dark shade of red resembling a very red grape), cuts me off in a stern loud voice.

"Do not speak until spoken to!"

"But he-"

"Die !" (I learned back in January that die means "stop, enough!" in Hebrew ...

because when Avi told my dog to "die"

when it was sniffing his crotch, I thought he was being rude, but he was just giving a command.) I cover my mouth with my hands to stop myself from accidentally opening my lips and getting myself or Avi into more trouble.

Sergeant B-S steps between Avi and me.

He gives Avi an order in Hebrew, then says, "Gefen, Kadima!" Then the sergeant turns to me. "Your job is to watch him.

Come," he says, placing me a few feet in front of my boyfriend so I'm facing him.

"Watch him?" I question.

"Yes. Just stand and watch."

I know if I protest it's going to give him another reason to yell at me.

Avi, the ever-obedient soldier, gets on the gravel ground and does a pushup, then stands and our eyes meet. He repeats the pushup/standing exercise a few more times, and each time he stands our eyes meet. We can't talk, so our eye contact is the only way to communicate with each other.

Avi's straight, direct eye contact with me is telling me that he's okay ... he's strong and he's fine.

I'm feeling worse than guilty. I wonder when he'll get to stop.

Avi is still going strong after five minutes, even though his back must be bruised from the rifle strapped to him. His palms are probably raw and bleeding from the gravel, too, but he doesn't give any sign he's in pain.

I hate watching this. The day has started to cool off, but I'm sweating again. Every time he goes down for another pushup, I wince. When he comes up, I want to tell him I'm sorry and won't lure him away again. After ten minutes, I swallow back tears and give Sergeant B-S a pleading look. He's got his arms folded in front of him, and doesn't show any sign of planning to let Avi stop any time soon.

I know when Avi is in pain, even though by looking at him you couldn't tell. I know it because he stops looking directly at me when he stands between those pushups.

He's looking forward, but not at me ...

he's looking through me. He's in "the zone" and is a robot now. It's a miracle he hasn't thrown up his dinner. I sure feel like throwing up mine.

My stomach twists. I can't deal with the fact that I'm just standing here doing nothing. I can't follow the order just to watch Avi. I know Avi won't stop until the sergeant says to, even if he's in pain.

I get it. Break down the soldier until they understand rules are not to be broken.

Ever. Or else. Avi and I cannot go away in private even if we're dating. He knew this, but I lured him to break the rules and he did.

In the army there are no gray areas. I was wrong to ask him to break the rules, and Avi is paying the price for listening to me.

The next time he stands, I mimic him like a mirror and get on the ground to do a pushup with him. I try and do a manly pushup without putting my knees on the ground, even though my arms have the strength of a spaghetti noodle.

Silently I pray to G.o.d to give me strength.

When Avi and I both stand, this time he looks right at me and is not in "the zone"

anymore. He shakes his head just the slightest bit, telling me to stop mimicking him. But I won't. I did the crime; it's not fair that he's the only one doing the time.

The sergeant wanted to make me feel guilty. It worked.

I am back on the ground again, doing another pushup. Little pebbles get stuck to my sweaty palms, and it makes me cringe imagining what Avi's palms must feel like.

But I don't stop.

"Die!" Sergeant B-S says.

For a second, I think he's giving an order for both of us to die on the spot ...

maybe he'll just take his gun and shoot us both. A harsh punishment for disobeying orders, but this is the army so maybe anything goes.