How to Ruin My Teenage Life (25 page)

“Don't look all serious, Amy,” Avi tells me as he guides my chin down so I'm face to face with him.

Avi and I are in our little imaginary cocoon looking into each other's eyes as if no one else in the world matters.

A loud “Ahem” interrupts us.

Looking up, I'm shocked at the person standing in front of me. Okay, I knew Nathan was going to be playing tonight at the bar. But I didn't know that Nathan was going to transform into a rock star look-alike. His hair is spiked up, he's got eyeliner on, ripped faded jeans with a faded gray vintage T-shirt, and a black leather necklace hanging from his neck. I might add that he's not wearing glasses, either.

“Nathan?” I ask, not really sure if the guy in front of us is a Nathan look-alike or the real deal.

Nathan leans in and says to me, “The guys in the band call me Nate. And … well, this is
me
. You said to be
me
, right?”

Wow. Talk about going from geek to … wow. “Yeah.”

When he leans back, I'm aware that Avi's grip has gotten tighter around my waist. I look down at my boyfriend, whose eyes are a little darker and intense like he's ready to fight for me.

“Avi?” I say.

He's still glaring at Nathan when he says, “What?”

“Look at me.”

He does.

“Nathan's my friend, like a brother. Stop glaring at him like he's the enemy.”

“I can't help it. Besides, if he's going to be your friend I liked it better when he wore glasses and the pants that were too short.”

“Dude, don't be so lame,” Nathan says. “The girl is in love with you. Or are you really all muscles and lack in the brain department?”

I feel Avi's muscles tense up, but before he can respond, I wrap my arms around his neck and hold him back. Luckily, the announcer starts introducing the band and Nathan is all too happy to jump up on stage and avoid another confrontation with Avi. I notice Nathan still has a cut and bruise from yesterday when Avi decked him.

“Nathan looks
so
hot, doesn't he?” Miranda says as Nathan, now the lead singer for Lickity Split, takes the mic. Okay, so he's the substitute singer for Lickity Split. It's not permanent, but it's still super cool.

Avi pulls me closer. “I never want you to look at him the way you look at me, Amy.”

Nathan aka Nate Greyson puts the mic to his mouth, points to me, and says, “Amy, this one's for you.”

What?

Did he just dedicate a song to me?

My arms are still around my boyfriend, and his arm is still holding me tight while Lickity Split starts the loud music. Nathan belts out lyrics I've never heard before:

She'll freak you out, she'll screw with your head

She'll kiss you once, then leave you for dead

I stop listening after the word
dead
. Nathan and I are going to have a long talk about this song. It's too angry. Is Nathan angry? I'm sure with his past there's a lot of anger built up inside, but I can help him with that. Isn't that what friends are for? And to set the record straight I kissed Nathan twice, not once. And I did not leave him for dead. I knew after Avi kicked his ass last night he was alive … and left in very good care.

I shake my head and listen to the rest of the song. I can tell the crowd is getting into the lyrics and the fast beat. Nathan is a hit. The song tells the story about a guy falling for a girl who he thinks is playing games with him but in the end is just being herself. He realizes that the friendship is the real deal; the attraction was just a façade.

The mass of people in the bar are jumping up and down, shaking their heads to the song, and waving their hands in the air like crazy people. Or more like people who are totally engrossed in the beat and lyrics. Nathan aka Nate is jumping on stage like the rest of the crowd, getting totally into the song.

“Let's dance,” Avi says loudly so I can hear over the speakers right near our table.

Me? Jumping around and head-banging? Yeah, I might do that in my room with nobody watching, but there's a bunch of kids from school here and I'm not used to losing control in front of an audience. “You go,” I say, standing so Avi can mingle with the crowd. “I'm not the getting-sweaty-in-front-of-other-people kind of person.” I'd rather he stay with me, but I'm not going to be the loser girlfriend who tells him what he can and can't do. If he's not afraid of people staring at him . . .

Avi stands and pulls me into the middle of the dance floor, which has become a pit of sweaty people drowning themselves in the music. Nathan is on his second song. This one is about rough times and even tougher times ahead. Very depressing, if I say so myself … and I'm a pessimist.

Avi starts getting into the music. The music is so loud I think my brain is rattling and we're all going to suffer brain damage and wake up deaf tomorrow morning. I can't stop watching Avi and how masculine and cool he looks while he's waving his fist in the air and moving to the pounding bass.

“Come on,” he says. “Lose control with me.”

Me, lose control? Not my style. Besides, if I jump around then my boobs are going to bob up and down like a buoy in the middle of a tsunami. I shake my head, refusing to make a spectacle of myself.

Scanning the people around me, though, makes me realize that I'm making a spectacle of myself by being the only one in the crowd right now standing still. Even Miranda is jumping around, waving her hands in the air like she's about to take flight. And she's got bigger and saggier boobs than me.

I start by bending my knees up and down. Looking over at Avi, his hair wet from sweat, inspires me. I take a tentative jump to test my new bra to see how bounce-resistant my boobs really are when they're strapped in tight. I look down as I take another test jump. The bounce rate is acceptable. But when I look up and see Avi's eyebrows furrowed as he watches me, I bite my bottom lip.

“People will stare at me,” I try to explain over the loud music.

Avi shakes his head in frustration. “Let go, Amy. I want to see you without your inhibitions. If people stare, they're just jealous they're not having as much fun as you are.”

I look down at my boobs.

His eyebrows go up. “Just try it,” he says. “I dare you.”

I do not take dares lightly, and he probably knows it. With a deep breath and determination I never knew was in me, I start jumping to the music and shaking my head around like Mutt after he takes a swim in Lake Michigan. Surprisingly, it feels good to let go and lose control for once.

The pit of people has gotten more crowded, I'm being pushed and pulled around by the mass of dancing maniacs. When I look up at the stage, Nathan is into his third song … or maybe his fourth. The words are seeping into my body:

Fight the fight worth fighting

Fight it to the death

Fight the fight worth fighting

And give up all the rest

As the words enter my consciousness, I wonder how many fights I've fought that weren't worth fighting. Nathan is totally into the performance. His face is fierce as he sings the words into the microphone. He's still trying to figure out where he fits in this world and why his parents gave him up.

When Nathan opens his eyes, he catches me watching him and winks at me before bending down and singing to some girl in the front row.

Soon the music stops and the band takes a break. While my ears adjust to the absence of blaring music, I head back to our table and plop myself down on an empty chair.

“You should let go more often,” Avi says from behind me.

“I looked stupid,” I say, which pretty much sums it up. Yes, I admit I had fun looking like a dork having my arms flailing and my boobs bopping around without caring what anyone thought. But in the end, I did look stupid. And in the end, I still do care what people think.

Avi bends down and kisses my neck. “You looked sexy, Amy.”

“Will you two ever stop?” Nathan says as he joins our table.

I push Nathan away, but he's not paying attention to me. Something or someone at the other end of the bar is occupying him. I follow where his attention is focused.

“Bicky,” Nathan whispers in shock.

The girl is even prettier in person and I hate her instantly. She has short, blonde hair pulled back with a headband and a half shirt showing off her amazing abs and bellybutton ring. And I swear her jeans must be painted on, they're hugging her body so tight. When I wear tight jeans I have to lie on my bed while I'm zipping them up. Bicky must have taken a dip in oil or grease in order to cram into her size zeros.

She sashays up to Nathan and puts her arms around his neck. “Aren't you going to introduce me to your friends?” she asks in a high, singsong voice.

Nathan is still in shock. His arms go slowly around her waist but he's looking at her like something isn't right. “What are you doing here? Did you break out of rehab?”

“You betcha.” Bicky leans into him, almost tripping over her feet. “I heard you were performing. And besides, I wanted to meet the girl you kissed and wrote a song about.” She looks me up and down. “You're her, aren't you?”

Oh, boy, am I busted. But before I can deny anything, Nathan says, “You're wasted, Bic.”

“That I am, baby,” she purrs, looking up at him. “You used to like getting wasted with me, until you turned all geek on me.” She eyes his spiked hair and faded jeans. “Glad to see you're back to normal.”

He grabs her wrists and pries her arms off him. “What we did wasn't normal, Bic. It was crazy and stupid.”

Bicky is getting mad; her cheeks are red and splotchy and her eyes narrow into tiny slits making her look like an evil little pixie. “You used to like crazy and stupid, Nate. Or are you still going by Nathan? I can't keep up with all your personalities. Can she?” she says, pointing to me.

Everyone's eyes are on me now, analyzing my relationship with Nathan which is not good considering I just got back together with Avi.

“We're just friends,” I blurt out, then hook my finger into Avi's belt loop making it obvious we're a couple. I hold my breath and peek at Avi's reaction to all of this.

Avi takes his hands off me, saying, “You don't have to defend yourself to me, Amy. I'll be at the bar while you work this out.”

Is he serious? He doesn't have any doubts or insecurities about my friendship with Nathan? “You sure?”

“Yeah.” He smiles and gives me a reassuring nod.

I watch his retreating back as he weaves his way through the crowd.

Wes, the guy from the Jewish youth group who helped me get Nathan in the band, weaves his way through the crowd. “Nate rocks, Amy. Thanks for bringing him by the other night. We're thinking of making him a permanent sub for Lickity Split.”

“Cool,” I say, but I'm not really paying attention to Wes or Bicky. Or Miranda, for that matter, even though she's in a deep conversation with a guy who I remember seeing at the youth group.

“Nathan … ” I say, wanting to apologize for kissing him. I also want to tell him I'm sorry he has to deal with a screwed-up girlfriend on his first night singing with the band.

“It's cool, Amy.”

“I can stay and help if you want.”

“You've helped enough, bitch, don't you think?” Bicky slurs. I seriously think she wants to fight me, like in a physical fight. As I'm contemplating who would win in a fight between me and Bicky, I wonder if they teach tae kwon do in rehab. Because the only physical fight I've ever been in was with the sheep on the
moshav
last summer in Israel. And in the disco in Israel, but that was only because of the ear-licker—long story.

Bicky holds her hands out wide, “You want some of this?”

“Not really,” I say. Is she joking?

Obviously not. My response really pisses her off, because now Nathan is trying to hold her back from charging me. I swear I'm living in the Twilight Zone. This girl seriously wants to deck me.

Not knowing what else to do, I close my fingers tightly into fists and hold them up by my face. The crowd around me starts moving backward. I think they're chanting “Chick Fight!” but I'm not sure. Whatever they're chanting, though, is fueling my bravery. Getting into the role, I start hopping around like boxers do. Maybe Bicky is too wasted and she'll fall to the ground on the first swing. It's wishful thinking, right?

If I break a nail I swear the chick is paying for a new manicure.

“You want some of this? Come and get me!” I say, playing the role while psyching myself up. I can seriously get into this, acting all tough and crazy.
Be afraid, everyone. Here comes the champion girl fighter of our time, Amy Nelson-Barak!

From behind me, an arm snakes around my side and pulls me backward.

“What the … ?”