21

If humans were meant to be in water,
we would have been born with fins.

“Amy, wake up.”

I squint to the sound of my cousin’s voice and the early morning sun.

“I’m sleeping,” I say, then shut my eyes and turn over.

“You can sleep later,” Snotty says. “We’re leaving in five minutes.”

I moan, because as I stated earlier I’m not a morning person. Heck, sometimes I’m not even a day person. I turn back around and squint my eyes open again as I look at her.

“I thought this camping thing was supposed to be a vacation.”

“Yeah. So?”

“Yeah, so . . . why wake up before you have to?” I say.

Snotty crouches down and whips the pillow out from under my head. Which, by the way, slams down on the rock beneath it.

“Ouch!” I yell. “Give that back!”

But she’s not listening to me because my dear cousin’s back is facing me as she walks away. With, I might add, my pillow under her smelly armpit.

Okay, so it’s not exactly my pillow. But it was last night and it was really fluffy and soft and smelled really comforting. I know that’s probably not possible. That’s just how it felt to me.

Reluctantly, I get up and head over to the Jeep where the rest of the gang is hanging out.

“It’s too early,” I say in a moaning, groggy voice.

Nobody answers me, they’re all packing up their stuff. And they’re all dressed. What is it with these people, getting up and dressed at the crack of dawn?

“Ready to go,” Avi says to me.

I open my arms wide, showing him my pajamas. “Do I look ready?”

“Maybe there’s miscommunication. I didn’t ask you if you were ready to go. I’m saying we’re going. Now. It’s not always about you, Amy.”

I give him my famous sneer. “I do not always think it’s about me,” I say.

I watch as one of his eyebrows rises up in amused contempt. Then he has the audacity to fetch my backpack and shove it at me.

“I’d advise you to wear a bathing suit,” he says.

“Why, where are we going?” I ask.

“Kayaking. Down the Jordan River.”

When should I break the news to him I’m not going to kayak down the Jordan River, or any other river for that matter? I don’t kayak. I don’t canoe. I don’t even swim well.

But just to show him I don’t think it’s all about me, I stalk off to change behind some bushes.

When I come back, everything is packed up and in the flatbed truck. O’dead is driving and next to him in the front is O’snot. Of course Ofra is cuddling up next to Doo-Doo. So that means I have to sit next to Avi.

Great, just what I need first thing in the morning. I park myself next to him and make sure I don’t make eye contact. It’s starting to get warm outside so I have shorts on and a bikini top.

But as we start moving, I realize my choice in tops is not the best. Damn, I forgot the rocky road we’re driving on does not bode well for my boobs.

The bikini top I’m wearing is not a support bra, not even close. And when O’dead starts driving faster, I have no choice but to hold on to the railing. Which means my boobs are bouncing around like buoys on a windy day. Maybe I will have a boob reduction after all, detached pinky parts or not.

I guess Avi realizes I’m uncomfortable because he shifts closer to me and puts his arm around my shoulders. He holds me so strongly I don’t have to hold on to anything and my boobs are shmushed so tightly they aren’t moving, either.

I should pull away from him. I should slap him for holding me like I’m his. But I feel so . . . stable against him. Nothing’s bouncing out of control and that’s a good thing. So I stay where I am.

Until, minutes later, we finally turn onto a paved road. I yank myself out of his embrace and push my shoulders back in a dignified manner. Or as dignified as I can while wearing a bikini top.

Luckily, as I look at Ofra and Doo-Doo, they’re too involved in gazing into each other’s eyes to notice what’s going on. Good.

Before long, we’ve turned into a large parking lot. Everyone gets out of the Jeep and heads to the entrance of the place. Except me.

“Come on,” Snotty says as she puts on her backpack.

“I’m not going.”

“Why?”

“I’ll just wait until you get back.”

“You’ll be waiting a long time, Amy. Moron is meeting us at the end of the river. We’re not coming back here for a couple of days.”

My heart starts pounding fast.

“Did you say a couple of days?”

“Yeah. Don’t be scared. Kayaking is fun.”

I give a little huff as I think of white-water rapids and all the different ways I could die in the water.

“I’m not scared. I just . . . well, I don’t like water all that much. Maybe there’s a phone around here and I can . . .”

She puts her hands on her hips and interrupts me, saying, “You’re scared, but you won’t admit it. If you’re such a baby, I’ll ride with you.”

I pick up my backpack and jump out of the truck, my feet landing on the gravel parking lot with a loud thud. I put on my sunglasses and look up at her. “You don’t know anything.”

“I know you think you’re tough, but you’re really not.”

I start walking toward the entrance to the kayak place and say, “And I know O’dead likes you way more than a friend.”

She runs to catch up with me. “What did you say?”

“O’dead likes you.”

“Only as a friend.”

I throw my backpack over my shoulder. “I see the way he looks at you. It’s definitely more than friendship.”

“Can you find out for sure?” she asks with hope in her voice.

I shrug. “You’re Israeli,” I say. “Why don’t you go straight up to him and ask him? You keep reminding me how Israelis don’t bullshit or beat around the bush.”

“I . . . I can’t.”

I huff loudly, mocking her like she mocks me all the time. “Okay, I’ll ask him for you.” We start walking toward the river together. “By the way, I don’t think I’m tough,” I say. “I am tough.”