Part One
When I was in fifth grade my baby
brother was born, and we had to move to a larger apartment to accommodate for
this third child. I adored the baby, and together with my parents and younger
sister celebrated his long-awaited arrival, but I hated everything about our
new neighbourhood on the other side of Rishon LeZion. The streets were dreary,
and the kids surly and condescending; especially after the stupid
little pooch that belonged to the nastiest boy next door chased my dad’s car,
got himself entangled in the wheels, and was crushed to death. Shelling that boy and his friends with improvised
water balloons didn’t increase my popularity, but who could resist such
delicious temptation?
My entire being screamed to join my friends
in the old neighbourhood: crawl into the thicket of the abandoned
guava orchard behind my house; climb the crazy old woman’s loquat tree, pushing
sweet fistfuls of that small, yolk-coloured fruit into our mouths and pockets
as we shinned up the branches; venture beyond our
school that marked the neighbourhood’s edge and step into the open fields brimming
with wild flowers and citrus groves.
My
new neighbourhood offered no children to play with, no fruit trees to climb,
and no fresh oranges to pick. While my old friends continued to frolic outdoors
each afternoon until their mothers called them home for supper, I sat in my new
room feeling sorry for myself.
By
then I already knew to avoid the company of girls; their mind games baffled and
frustrated me to no end. It was like trying to figure out a foreign language
without a dictionary. The girls in my new class were no different, but by
mid-year I found company in my classmate and upstairs neighbour Nitzan, who
invited me to join a small band of boys from our class. Although I was the only
girl among them, they accepted me as their equal, and I proved them right,
roaming far beyond our neighbourhood in search of adventures, keeping pace with
them climbing fences and trees, and soon becoming the group’s designated
goalie. I was happy with my new friends and no longer reminisced about the old
ones.
In
seventh grade my world turned upside down. My buddies, other than Nitzan, transformed
into creepy aliens almost overnight. They now ogled me as a different species,
eyes halting on parts of my body that seemed to have betrayed me. Twisting
myself around to examine my rear end, following one of the boys'
remarks, I was astonished to discover it somehow grew far wider than I
could recall. I was similarly flabbergasted when some classmates suggested I
consider getting myself a bra.
“A bra?” I replied, glancing at my bumpy
chest. “What on earth for?”
I
later dismissed such intrusions with a shrug, but I couldn’t ignore my shifting
emotions; I too was affected by mysterious changes and now blushed at the sight
of the group’s leader.
I
had no choice but withdraw from the gang.
