How to Ruin Your Boyfriend's Reputation by Simone Elkeles Page B
Authors: Simone Elkeles
Tags: Fiction, General, People & Places, History, Juvenile Fiction, Children's Books - Young Adult Fiction, Children: Young Adult (Gr. 10-12), Social Issues, Man-Woman Relationships, Love & Romance, israel, School & Education, middle east, Soldiers, Social Issues - General, People & Places - Middle East, Military Bases, Basic training (Military education)
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never leaving me.
As he brushes the tips of his fingers across my abdomen, the tingles send wild sensations through my body. "Are you okay with this?" he asks, his face serious.
I nod and give him a small smile. "I'll let you know when I'm not."
As I lean down to press our bodies against each other, his hands reach around under my open shirt and pull me toward him. "Your body ...so warm."
His hands are like afire, consuming my body with his touch. I lean my head on his chest, hearing his heart beating the same erratic rhythm as my own while his hands move up and caress my hair, my bare back, and my breasts.
As I reclaim his lips, raw emotions and new wonderful feelings whirl in my consciousness. I'm fully aware I'm not ready to have sex, but I'm ready to experience more...
"You okay?" Avi asks me, bringing me back to the reality of my life called boot camp. I wish we were in my car right now instead of here.
"Uh, yeah. Are you?"
Avi wants to be a hardass in the IDF and not show
69
emotion. He once told me I'm the one person who makes him emotional, and that scares him.
I think of how I lured him to spend time alone with me yesterday. I guess deep down I knew if I begged him to go somewhere private with me he wouldn't refuse--even if it was against the rules. I have the power to make him forget the rules, and I abused that power.
Oh, no! I'm like Eve in the Garden of Eden, and he's poor Adam. Amy=The Dark Side.
My canteen is full, so I have to step aside. "Do you hate me?" I murmur.
He shakes his head and smiles. "No."
"I'm sorry you had to do pushups yesterday."
He examines his roughed-up palms. "I deserved it."
I feel a tension between us. I'm desperate for that tension to go away.
"Amy, I have to tell you something."
Good. I hope he says he loves me. I hope he says he's glad I'm here. I hope he says he wishes we were alone together. I gaze into his eyes and say in a hopeful voice, "What? What do you want to tell me?"
"Wear your hat."
"My hat?" Is he kidding me?
"Wear it. It's for your protection."
"I look dorky in hats, Avi. I'm not wearing it."
"You'll look worse with sunburn."
"Thanks for the tip," I say, kind of sarcastically, then head back into formation. I'm not wearing the hat, and
70
I'm sulking. I know I shouldn't expect Avi to say romantic stuff to me while we're here, but I want to hear those things coming out of his mouth nonetheless.
"When everyone's canteen is full, we get fifteen minutes to scarf down breakfast, then we head out the gates of the army base in perfect formation. We march to Avi's small-ydmean-smalls for a while. Every so often he orders all of us to drink from our canteens. It's no sparkling Perrier, and it's not cold, but it's wet and feels good going down my throat.
Avi and two other guys are standing in front of us, rifles cradled in their hands. The other SayeretTzefa trainees are flanking us on all sides.
You'd think I'd be freaked out with all the rifles and military precautions. But I'm not. I know the risks of being in Israel, and so do the Israelis. While they go on with their daily lives, refusing to give in to the fear of terrorism, they do what they can to protect themselves. I feel safe with these warriors protecting me.
We continue marching. This time Nimrod calls out the marching chant. The dawn chill disappears and the air grows warmer, a hint the sun will be up soon. The longer we march, the more the landscape looks like a barren desert. Mountains and rocks are our only scenery, and the uneven pebbly ground meets our shoes.
Some kids at school have asked me what's so special about Israel. It's not like there's a fun amusement park to go to or specific "wonders of the world" like the pyramids in Egypt. Israel is special just by being here--if you've
71
never been to Israel, you can't fully "get it." You can tell you're in Israel because of the people. Israeli citizens are determined and strong. They're harsh, but have a heart. They refuse to let
As he brushes the tips of his fingers across my abdomen, the tingles send wild sensations through my body. "Are you okay with this?" he asks, his face serious.
I nod and give him a small smile. "I'll let you know when I'm not."
As I lean down to press our bodies against each other, his hands reach around under my open shirt and pull me toward him. "Your body ...so warm."
His hands are like afire, consuming my body with his touch. I lean my head on his chest, hearing his heart beating the same erratic rhythm as my own while his hands move up and caress my hair, my bare back, and my breasts.
As I reclaim his lips, raw emotions and new wonderful feelings whirl in my consciousness. I'm fully aware I'm not ready to have sex, but I'm ready to experience more...
"You okay?" Avi asks me, bringing me back to the reality of my life called boot camp. I wish we were in my car right now instead of here.
"Uh, yeah. Are you?"
Avi wants to be a hardass in the IDF and not show
69
emotion. He once told me I'm the one person who makes him emotional, and that scares him.
I think of how I lured him to spend time alone with me yesterday. I guess deep down I knew if I begged him to go somewhere private with me he wouldn't refuse--even if it was against the rules. I have the power to make him forget the rules, and I abused that power.
Oh, no! I'm like Eve in the Garden of Eden, and he's poor Adam. Amy=The Dark Side.
My canteen is full, so I have to step aside. "Do you hate me?" I murmur.
He shakes his head and smiles. "No."
"I'm sorry you had to do pushups yesterday."
He examines his roughed-up palms. "I deserved it."
I feel a tension between us. I'm desperate for that tension to go away.
"Amy, I have to tell you something."
Good. I hope he says he loves me. I hope he says he's glad I'm here. I hope he says he wishes we were alone together. I gaze into his eyes and say in a hopeful voice, "What? What do you want to tell me?"
"Wear your hat."
"My hat?" Is he kidding me?
"Wear it. It's for your protection."
"I look dorky in hats, Avi. I'm not wearing it."
"You'll look worse with sunburn."
"Thanks for the tip," I say, kind of sarcastically, then head back into formation. I'm not wearing the hat, and
70
I'm sulking. I know I shouldn't expect Avi to say romantic stuff to me while we're here, but I want to hear those things coming out of his mouth nonetheless.
"When everyone's canteen is full, we get fifteen minutes to scarf down breakfast, then we head out the gates of the army base in perfect formation. We march to Avi's small-ydmean-smalls for a while. Every so often he orders all of us to drink from our canteens. It's no sparkling Perrier, and it's not cold, but it's wet and feels good going down my throat.
Avi and two other guys are standing in front of us, rifles cradled in their hands. The other SayeretTzefa trainees are flanking us on all sides.
You'd think I'd be freaked out with all the rifles and military precautions. But I'm not. I know the risks of being in Israel, and so do the Israelis. While they go on with their daily lives, refusing to give in to the fear of terrorism, they do what they can to protect themselves. I feel safe with these warriors protecting me.
We continue marching. This time Nimrod calls out the marching chant. The dawn chill disappears and the air grows warmer, a hint the sun will be up soon. The longer we march, the more the landscape looks like a barren desert. Mountains and rocks are our only scenery, and the uneven pebbly ground meets our shoes.
Some kids at school have asked me what's so special about Israel. It's not like there's a fun amusement park to go to or specific "wonders of the world" like the pyramids in Egypt. Israel is special just by being here--if you've
71
never been to Israel, you can't fully "get it." You can tell you're in Israel because of the people. Israeli citizens are determined and strong. They're harsh, but have a heart. They refuse to let
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