If I had bangs, I could hide George from the rest of the world. But I don't. I head to the barracks with my hand over George and sneak past Jess. Lifting my makeup case, I pull out my trusty cover-up. But as I pat it on and examine it in my small travel mirror, the cover-up looks like caked-on silly putty. Besides, when I sweat the stuff is going to come right off. So I do the next best thing: I pull out my travel first-aid kit and cover George up with one of those round Band-Aids. "When George is hidden from the world, I head to the courtyard to wait for Ronit to order us into formation.
Nathan is outside, his tongue fully recovered from the bee incident.
"What the hell happened to your forehead?" Nathan asks with a grimace. I swear he says it so loud everyone within a mile can hear him.
"Nothing," I say, hoping against all hope he'll drop the subject.
"I've got two theories," he says. "Either you cut yourself shaving your monobrow, or you're covering up a huge zit."
"Shut up or I'll make you eat another bee."
"Hi, Nathan," Miranda says.
"Let me guess what's for breakfast," Jessica says as she walks up to us. "Ant-encrusted toast, hard-boiled eggs, and delicious bee-jam." Her voice trails off after a glance at my forehead. I'm trying to look the other way, but she grabs my arm. "Amy, please tell me you didn't touch it."
"I didn't touch it," I say roughly. I'm not lying. I didn't touch it, I mutilated it.
Nathan pretends to cough, but I know he's laughing. "She's got a big zit she's covering up but is too embarrassed to admit it. Come on, Amy, fess up," he says, then reaches over to pull the Band-Aid off.
I slap his hand away.
"How big is it?" Miranda asks.
"I told you to leave it alone," Jess scolds.
"Okay, okay everyone!" I yell, then pull the Band-Aid off and point to my forehead. "Everyone, meet George."
Nathan pretends to gag. "That looks so nasty, Amy. "What the hell did you do to it?"
"You named your zit?" Miranda asks.
"I figured since George and I are going to be together for a while, he might as well have a name," I tell her, ignoring Nathan. Jess is still staring at my forehead as if she's not quite sure how I managed to turn tiny George into big, red, angry George.
Nathan is laughing again.
"Does it look really bad?" I ask my friends.
Nathan gives me a resounding "Yes!"
Miranda shrugs and nods at the same time.
Jess says, "They might make you go to the infirmary for fear it's something contagious."
I slap my hand over my forehead and run back to the barracks. Unfortunately, Tori is still in the room.
"We're supposed to be outside in less than a minute," Tori says.
"So leave." I pull out my mirror and look up at Tori. "Do you mind? I need some privacy."
"For what?"
"It's a long story that has to do with a big zit I named George."
I examine George in the mirror. Unfortunately, Tori sees him too. Her lips curl up in disgust. "Eww."
"I know. You want to call me a spaz again because I have a zit?"
"No. But you better go out there before you get in trouble for being late."
George looks nastier than before. "What am I gonna do?"
Tori shrugs. "Put on a hat."
"I don't even know where mine is. Besides, George might get infected from rubbing against the material."
"I could cut you some bangs, if you want," Tori says. "My mom's a hairdresser."
"Really?"
"Really. Your face structure would actually look good with bangs."
"You'd really cut me bangs?"
"Anything to get you to stop looking at yourself in the mirror." She pulls out scissors from her duffle and slides my hair through her fingers. "Trust me."
She has no clue how hard that is for me, but Rabbi Glassman says that sometimes it helps to make people feel needed. "I trust you," I tell her.
"Thanks for sharing your story about your parents when we had kitchen duty," she says as she snips away. "I see you with all the stuff you have, and I think you have the perfect life."
"It's my parents' way of making up for their shortcomings."
"There. I'm done." She puts the scissors down and holds up the mirror so I can inspect my new do.
I never really wanted bangs. I was six years old the last time I had bangs, and they feel weird brushing up against my forehead. I have to admit they don't look half bad.
Outside, sure enough, everyone is in formation. Tori and I come sauntering out. Sergeant B-S isn't here, thank goodness. But Avi is.
All eyes turn to Avi.
"Why are you late?" he asks us.
"It's my fault, not Tori's," I tell him. "It was a medical issue."
"Are you sick?" he asks, his voice laced with concern that makes my knees weak. He cocks his head and inspects me, looking for a wound or weakness.
"Not exactly."
"Do you have a fever?"
To my horror, he picks his hand up and is about to feel my forehead. I jump back, afraid he'll find George. "No!"
"Amy, my patience is wearing thin. Fast."
I can tell. "Its not a fever. Tori was cutting my hair."
"Since when is cutting hair a medical issue?"
"It just is."
Avi looks up to the sky, probably asking God for the strength to deal with me. I don't blame him. Truth is, I am aspaz.
"Tori, get back in formation. Amy, give me twenty push-ups.
"Can I do girlie ones?"
"No."
"I can't do guy's ones. I don't have enough upper arm strength."
"Yes, you do." He points to the ground. "Stop stalling."
I stretch out on the ground. Thankfully we're on a paved sidewalk so I don't have little pebbles sticking into my palms.
With my hands on either side of my shoulders and the tips of my toes on the pavement, I straighten my arms.
I look up, and stare straight into Avis eyes. He's squatting right in front of me. For him, pushups are no big deal. For me, on the other hand...
"Stop thinking and just do them," he says softly so no one else can hear. "Pretend your body is a piece of wood and your elbows are hinges." He gets in position and demonstrates it for me.
I bend my elbows a tiny bit and straighten them.
"That's not a pushup, Amy."
"It is for me."
"Go down farther." He demonstrates it again, reminding me of when I did them in front of Sergeant B-S my first night here.
I look into his eyes, which have determination written all over them.
"I wouldn't ask you to do something you couldn't do," he says. "Push yourself."
The thing is, I want to make Avi proud of me. And if he says I can do it, maybe I can.
I bend my elbows again, all the while trying to keep the rest of my body straight. My boobs are almost touching the ground when I straighten.
"That's it. Nineteen more," Avi says, doing them right along with me.
I do two more, my arms shaking and struggling each time. Going down isn't the problem; it's the pushing up part.
"Seventeen more."
I take a deep breath. My arms are tired. I'm not mad at Avi for punishing me. It's my own fault for being so vain. I look up, wishing everyone wasn't watching.
"I have faith in you," Avi says softly. "No matter what, I always have."
Now I want to cry, because he probably has more faith in me than I have in myself. As I lower my body again, Avis determination makes me do more pushups. Every time I think I'm going to collapse, I look up into his beautiful milk-chocolate eyes for strength.
Sweat is dripping off my forehead. My shirt is wet from sweat and I probably smell, but I finish my twenty pushups and stand up.
"You'd be a great soldier if you didn't complain all the time."
I shrug. "And you'd be a great boyfriend if you didn't kiss other girls."
Chapter 17
Running should be saved for times when you're being chased
After we sit through another classroom session on rifle safety and have dinner, we're informed that we'll be going on a night run.
"Like aTaco Bell run?" I ask. "Fun." Although I've never seen aTaco Bell in Israel, I've seen a few McDonald's. I had a McKebab at one last summer, with cheeps on the side (which is really just French fries).
Ronit and Liron look at each other in confusion. "What's aTaco Bell run?"
"You know... a food run."
Liron laughs. "We weren't talking about a food run. We mean night run literally."
"Where you run at night," Ronit adds, just in case I don't get it.
"Oh."
If I'm to be completely honest, the last thing I want to do at nine p.m. is run. In fact, the last thing I ever want to do is run, period. I'd hate running if it was at nine at night or nine in the morning (or three in the afternoon, for that matter).
At nine on the dot, just when the sun has almost left us, we congregate in a big, open area right outside the base. I spot Nathan and pull him aside. "Nathan, don't you think Miranda's awesome?"
"Uh, yeah. Why?"
"I was just wondering if you, you know, would ever consider her as more than a friend. You know, like girlfriend material."
"No. She's too serious. And too nice."
"Nice is a good trait, Nathan."
"Yeah, in a friend. I like Miranda as a friend. Get it? I need a raunchy and inappropriate girl... you know, someone I consider a challenge."
"I got it." Tori's the one.
Nathan shrugs. "Truth is, I know Miranda's had a crush on me for months. I tried thinking of her that way, but it didn't work. The yin/yang thing just isn't there. I feel bad about it, if that makes you feel any better."
I sigh, knowing that pairing my two friends isn't going to work. "Well, as long as you feel bad about it, I guess you're off the hook."
"What are you wearing on your head?" Sergeant B-S asks me, cutting my conversation with Nathan short.
I reach up and feel the hot-pink headlight my mom bought me for the trip. At the time I thought it was lame to wear a flashlight strapped to your forehead, but when I got ready for the night run that has nothing to do with food or Taco Bell, I put it on. "A flashlight."
"Who told you to put it on?"
"Nobody. I thought of it all by myself. It'll help me see where I'm going."
Sergeant B-S takes the flashlight off my head. "A flashlight in a real military operation would give away your location."
"This isn't a real military operation," I say, stating the obvious.
"We're simulating one. No flashlights. Use the moon as your light." He hands my flashlight back to me and faces the rest of the unit. "In a real operation, troops move at night. Since there are only a few hours of darkness, you have to move fast so the enemy is taken by surprise."
Four guys are chosen to carry a stretcher while they run, with four more guys as backup stretcher-holders. Nathan is one of the backups. Two other guys are assigned to carry what they call "jerry cans," which are water-filled jugs, on their backs.