How to Ruin My Teenage Life (How to Ruin #2)

How to Ruin My Teenage Life (How to Ruin #2) Page 29

Dinner with my mom and Marc was nice. Since we couldn't have sushi because of my mom's pregnancy, we ordered Thai instead. Marc tried to engage Avi in conversation, but Marc isn't the most interesting person to chat with. Get him on a subject he knows, though, and he's a maniac. Like real estate. He could talk about prime Chicago real estate for hours. It's too bad nobody wants to listen.

After dinner Avi and I get in the car and cruise back to the city.

"Are we going back to the beach?" he asks. "Because I think another late night like yesterday and your dad really will pull out the Uzi."

"What's an Uzi?"

"An Israeli-made machine gun. Very popular during your dad's time in the military."

Yeah, I can see it. My dad waiting at the door sitting in the dining room chair with an Israeli machine gun strapped to his shoulder instead of just an angry stare.

"Nope. I'm taking you to a club. You took me to a club in Israel. It's time for me to show you what clubs are like here."

"I thought you had to be twenty-one to get into clubs in the States."

"Yeah, well, this one is lenient. Besides, I know the guy playing in the band."

30

Abraham had such faith and fear in God he almost sacrificed his son Isaac because God commanded it (Genesis 22:2). Abraham knew God would make everything okay in the end. I have faith that God will make everything okay in the end too.

We wait in line to get into Durty Nevin's until Jess pulls us out of line and leads us to the front door. She mumbles something about her uncle being part owner of the security company responsible for the bouncers. We walk straight up to the burly bouncer, he takes one look at Jess, and waves the three of us in.

I hold Avi's hand as we weave through the sea of people.

Miranda is sitting at a table up front. She's wearing her hair up in a ponytail and has actual makeup on. "Wow, Miranda, you look great!" I say to her.

The girl smiles as if I just told her she won a million-dollar lottery. "Jess did it for me."

I give Jess a thumbs-up sign, then join the others to snatch chairs for the three of us.

As soon as we sit, I reach for Avi's hand. His hand is already reaching for mine. Looking up, I swallow hard when he flashes me a private knowing wink.

"I'm glad you two worked it out, but if you start any major PDA I swear I'm banning you from this table," Jess says, eyeing our hands.

"What's PDA?" Avi says in my ear. Jess rolls her eyes, thinking he's whispering about how much he loves me and adores me and can't live without me.

I lean toward him, my hand braced on his chest as I whisper back, "Public display of affection. You know, making out in front of everyone."

Jess is pulling me off him. "I need to talk to you, Amy. It's important. If you could separate yourself from your man for one second, that is."

Tossing Avi an apologetic expression, I pry myself away and let Jessica pull me by my elbow into the hallway by the bathrooms. Music is blaring and pounding in my ears, but it sounds good. Anything would sound good to me right now. I'm happy.

Jess is flushed as she stops and faces me. This is serious. I can tell by the way her mouth and stance get all intense and stiff. "I'm in love, Amy. And I know it sounds weird and I don't want to get all dorky and googly-eyed like you and Avi, but I know he's 'The One.' And my parents are going to have a complete meltdown when they meet him because he's everything they've ever wanted for me. He's Jewish, he's Israeli, he's gorgeous, intelligent, he's sweeter than a cinnamon bun...he's every Jewish parent's wet dream--"

I put a hand up, wondering what this is all about. Cinnamon bun? Israeli? Wet dream? "Jess, the only Israeli you've been in contact with lately is Avi and my dad. Avi is taken and my dad..." I scrunch up my face in full gross-out mode.

"I'm not in love with your dad, Amy," Jess says, her hands on her hips.

"Phew," I say, physically and mentally relieved. I just saved myself years of therapy.

"I'm in love with Tarik. You know, Avi's friend at Northwestern. After your kidnapping fiasco, he drove Miranda and Nathan home. Then we talked in the car for over an hour in front of my building." I can't stop the girl or get a word in. She's like a train that won't stop. More like a train wreck, because she's totally clueless. I listen to the rest of her rant before breaking the bad news. "He's the smartest guy, Amy. I can't believe you've known him since the summer, knew he was coming to Northwestern, but didn't introduce him to me. I would question your loyalty to me, but I'm so ridiculously in love. Did you ever think I would believe in love at first sight? I swear, I couldn't sleep last night thinking about him and this morning I had the biggest urge to go visit him and surprise him at the dorm. You know the way you feel about Avi? I feel the same way."

"Do you think I could talk now, Jess?" I ask her. She laughs, this crazy I-am-in-love-and-can't-be-normal laugh. Gee, I hope I'm not like that around Avi. Someone slap me please if I ever go over the deep end like that. "What did you guys talk about for an hour?"

"Everything. Life, family, friends."

"Jess, I hate to break it to you, but..." How do I tell her that 1: Love at first sight is a bunch of bull. And 2: He's--

"Wait. Before you tell me I'm crazy and go off on me that I'm supposed to be the friend who is realistic and sane, I need to know his last name. I don't even know my future husband's name."

"Muslim."

Jess cocks her head to the side in confusion. "Tarik Muslim? That's not a Jewish name, that's a religion. Amy, stop making fun of me and tell me his last name before I start getting pissed."

"He's Muslim, Jess," I say slowly with a serious expression on my face. It's really a pity expression, because I'm about to tell her that her cinnamon bun has raisins in it when she expected it to be plain.

"Amy, you said he was Israeli."

"No, I said he was Avi's friend from Israel. So as much as you like him, your parents would freak. Especially your dad. Isn't he the president of the men's club at the synagogue? I admit Tarik is awesome, Jess. But your parents want you to find a nice Jewish boy and I'm sure his parents want him to find a nice Muslim girl."

I shouldn't have put it like that. Just by looking at Jessica I can tell she's gone from elation to confusion to sorrow to defiance all in a matter of seconds. Defiance in my best friend is scary.

"He asked me out on Saturday night," she says matter-of-factly.

Oh, man. "And?"

"And of course I said yes. Crap," she says, as tears start filling her eyes. She turns and hurries into the restroom, leaving me to either go after her like a good friend or pay attention to my boyfriend who probably thinks I ditched him.

I peek around the corner to check out what my boyfriend is doing. He's abandoned the table and is talking to a couple of guys at the bar.

I decide to be a good friend and hope Avi can amuse himself for another five minutes.

In the restroom, Jess has some other girls from our school gathered around her, asking what's wrong. Mitch cruelly dumped her and now the guy of her dreams turns out to be a guy she's probably forbidden to date. Jessica goes to Hebrew school twice a week, Sunday school, and in the summers Jess rides a bus all the way to the middle of Wisconsin to spend four weeks at a Jewish overnight camp.

Needless to say it's been ingrained in Jessica's head since she was born that she has to marry a Jewish boy. Her kids have to be Jewish, and it's her responsibility to carry on the Jewish traditions and religion.

But I never lose hope. There must be some loophole, some way Tarik and Jess can date without causing her Grandma Pearl to go into a nursing home prematurely.

Jessica waves the crowd away. "I'm fine. Really." She's trying to convince them. It's not working. First of all, her mascara is running down her face like streaks of ash with tears leading the way.

I push everyone else out of the way. Picking her chin up with my fingers, I say quietly, "Jess, don't cry. I'm sure once you explain the situation to your parents, it won't be such a big deal. You'll see."

Leading me to the side, away from everyone else, she says, "No, I won't. My mom's family was killed in the Holocaust, Amy. My great-grandfather has a number tattooed on his arm from when he was in a concentration camp. A reminder you can't wash away with soap and water. If I even mention a non-Jewish boy's name in his presence I feel guilty."

I still think God will take care of Jessica and look after her. I have complete faith. And there's always the guilt offering of a burnt animal...

Jess wipes her eyes, trying to compose herself. Grabbing paper towels and looking into the mirror, she witnesses the streaky mess her face is. "Take a look at me, Amy," she says. "I can't go out there looking like this."

"You have to. Nathan's counting on us being here."

New tears start streaming down her face and she turns to me. "Tarik said he'd be honored to go to the Valentine's Dance with me, Amy. Honored. When I spilled the beans about how I didn't have a date, he asked me. Right there in his car in front of my condo. And we had a moment. I know it sounds crazy and stupid, but we did."

A moment? Is she kidding me? A moment of lust, perhaps, but not love.

Oh, man. I know how much she wants to go to the Valentine's Dance. It's not about the dance. It's not about love. It's about being wanted and accepted.

I wish I could stop her from looking in the mirror again, but it's no use. One more wipe of the running mascara and I can see the defeat in her eyes. "I'm going home. Tell Nathan and Miranda I'll see them at school."

She moves past me and out the door. I don't even try and stop her because I've been best friends with Jessica long enough to know I can't convince her to stay. Besides, what more can I say? I can't tell her Tarik isn't awesome, because he is.

Speaking of awesome guys, I've left mine alone enough tonight. Heading back to the big crowd, I scan the area and find Avi sitting at the table with Miranda. They're surrounded by a bunch of people, talking and laughing. Two girls who I've never seen before are standing right near Avi. I can tell they're flirting by the way one is flipping her hair and the other girl is licking her lips. My protective radar goes off (okay, my jealousy radar goes off, too) and I weave through the mass of people with my chest held high, and steer toward my boyfriend like a paper clip to a magnet.

The hair-flipping girl is telling a story about her trip to Israel two summers ago and how she's dying to go back. It's hard to hear the details of her adventures because music is blaring in the background and I'm stuck standing behind Miranda. There's no room next to my boyfriend.

The lip-licker is laughing while lip-licking, which I think she's practiced in the mirror before. She does it frighteningly well. Avi is so intrigued with her conversation he doesn't know I'm standing here.

Miranda looks up at me. "Maya is telling us about her trip to Israel," Miranda tells me. "She went to Gadna for a week. It's a military training camp."

Oh, great. Flippy-haired Maya can talk guns with my commando boyfriend. I'm feeling sick and might just follow Jessica out the door so I can go home, too. "I went to Israel, too," I blurt out.

I have nothing else to say. I didn't go to an Israeli military training camp and I don't have hair I can flip over my shoulder and make it look like I just got it styled at a salon.