"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."