Free Next Year in Israel by Sarah Bridgeton Page B

love the lazy schedule here?” Jake asked. “Teachers late and all.”
    My school at home didn’t allow teachers to mosey into class five minutes late. “It must be an unwritten rule. An Israeli thing.”
    He took a pencil out of his backpack. “Will you help me with my English homework? Mia said you’re good at English.”
    What else had Mia said? “Yeah. I always get A’s.”
    He bent his head closer. “I’ll help you with calculus if you tell me who you want as a boyfriend.”
    I was thankful I had a cover. “I don’t need help with calculus.”
    Leah walked into our classroom. “All right, class. Your teacher’s ill. I’m subbing today. Get out your history books.”
    I moved my face away from Jake’s and reached for my backpack. He kicked my foot. “Better idea. Let’s do homework together and hook up.”
    My stomach rumbled. Jake usually stopped flirting after the first brush-off. It had to be a joke—charming guy embarrasses gawky girl. I stared at Leah’s black skirt and beige blouse. “Nah.”
    “Jake and Rebecca, stop talking unless you want to share with the class,” Leah said.
    Jordyn quickly ripped out a piece of notebook paper.
    “Get out your textbook and read chapter eleven.”
    Jake kicked my foot again. “C’mon. Let’s do homework together.”
    “Jake and Rebecca, stop talking.”
    I opened my book and checked Jake’s. He highlighted his book with a blue marker. He sensed my stare, looked up, and mouthed, “Let’s study.”
    I looked down. Why did I have to stare at him? What happened at home proved I couldn’t trust anybody. Just like with Jordyn and Mia, I had to be extremely careful around him and not let myself get attached.
    Jordyn tapped my shoulder lightly and slipped a note on my desk.
    I smiled. She had passed me a note earlier with the words strawberry daiquiri underlined. I lifted the top of the paper slowly as if it were a prized certificate. Jordyn’s loopy handwriting listed three Israeli guys and slutty Mia’s done them .
    Leah stood up from her desk. “I’ll pass out a worksheet in a moment.”
    My hand trembled. After three years of being called Pugly, I’d hoped my nickname would be dropped once middle school began. It was sixth grade, and we were at a new school, but Derrick’s locker was ten away from mine, and he yelled Pugly or barked at me every day. I did my best to pretend I didn’t care, even if it felt like sharp pieces of glass were cutting me on the inside. Lunch had been tricky because Derrick was there, we didn’t have assigned seats anymore, and I was unsure where to sit. With Derrick and his entourage laughing at me, nobody was going out of their way to save me a seat.
    But Grace had the same lunch, and we sat together. I was so grateful to have a friend to sit with. It made school somewhat bearable until I started to get anonymous “Pugly’s a slut” notes. I found the notes in my locker, written on notebook paper that had been folded into fat squares, thin rectangles, and my personal favorite, uneven triangles. That stupid nickname! It had turned school into Hell. I had a stack of notes that proved other people hated me. Who was writing them? How many people hated me?
    Jake kicked me again. “You spaced out. Are you okay?”
    “Yeah,” I mouthed. I could either hide the note and stay loyal to Mia, or pass it and switch my alliance to Jordyn. Being in Jordyn’s camp was like an extra coat of protection; it would give me short-term immunity. But did I want to backstab Mia? Somebody would give her the note or leave it in a place where she would see it, like the slut notes I found in my locker.
    Jake’s hand swooped down and snatched the note. My heart dropped to the floor. How many kids at home had passed those notes about me? I was being the type of person who had let me down.
    “Cruel,” he whispered and tore it up.

Chapter 8
    GRANDMA INSISTED I CALL HER Israeli friend Tova, once I got settled at the kfar . As promised, I