How to Ruin My Teenage Life by Simone Elkeles Page B

messages on my dad’s profile and the two women I asked out for my dad responded. Wow. The human resources worker, Kelly, would love to do coffee, how about next week? and the lawyer, Wendy, says she’s looking for an American guy so she’s not interested.
    Good. I didn’t want a lawyer to be my stepmom anyway. Lawyers probably follow all the rules and regs in life. That’s not my style. I live inside the gray areas and love it.
    I e-mail the human resources lady back and ask her to meet me (aka my dad) at Perk Me Up! tomorrow night at seven.
    As I settle into the chair, I hear a crinkling sound from my back pocket. Oh my God. I can’t believe I forgot with all the Nathan-and-my-dad commotion to open Avi’s letter. Is my forgetfulness a betrayal of our relationship?
    Uncrinkling it, I sink back in my bed and open the envelope.
    â€œSorry, Avi.” He can’t hear me, but maybe my conscience can.
    As I unfold the letter, my heartbeat starts racing.
    Amy,
    You know I’m not good with letters, but I promised to write so I’m writing. I’m assigned to a new army base, but I can’t tell you where it is. Top secret stuff. I can tell you that I shot a new gun today. I know you hate guns, but this one was cool. It shoots around corners. We run every day until I think my legs are going to fall off. Tomorrow my unit will be dropped off in the Negev in the middle of the night to see if we can navigate with nothing but the stars to guide us through the desert. I guess that’s it. If I survive desert training I’ll write you again. You know I miss you, don’t you?
    Avi
    I hold the letter to my chest, concentrating on the last sentence. You know I miss you, don’t you? Avi isn’t one of those sappy guys; he’s guarded because he lost his brother in a bombing and hasn’t let himself open up, be vulnerable, and grieve. And I know he doesn’t want me to wait around for him while he spends his required three years in the Israeli military, so he doesn’t write romantic and mushy letters.
    I don’t want a romantic and mushy guy, anyway. I want Avi. Oh, I know I’m not going to even see him until the summer when I go back to Israel. I’m not holding my breath that he’ll be waiting for me. Okay, I am. But I’m not admitting it publicly.
    Leaning over my nightstand, I open the drawer and pull out Avi’s silver chain link bracelet. He gave it to me after we started dating this past summer. I also pull out a picture of him. It was after our last official date, when he gave me Mutt and a sushi dinner. I snatched a photo with my dad’s camera right before our last goodbye.
    I stare at the picture, him with his mocha eyes and thick head of dark hair to match. Not to mention his signature half-smile, which can make my heart stop. There is no way the girls in Israel are going to leave him alone; that’s a given. It scares me and brings out my worst insecurities. I’m not pretty enough, my boobs are too big, I’m not skinny enough.
    Ugh, I hate when I pick myself apart and focus on the negatives. Avi likes me for who I am. I know he does.
    Kissing his picture would be the dorkiest thing. I’d never do that. But I do clutch his picture to my chest and hug it. It’s still dorky, but less so than actually kissing it.
    â€œAmy, I’m sorry but it was an important call.”
    Great, now my dad is invading my personal space and witnessed me hugging a picture. The only thing keeping me from telling him how important knocking on a teenager’s door is the revenge date I’m setting him up on. “You know what your problem is?” I tell him.
    â€œWhat.”
    â€œYou think work is more important than your personal life.”
    He takes life way too seriously, but I’m trying to help him loosen up and not be such a stiff. It’s the work part that worries me. I swear he’s gonna have a heart attack