Light Years Read Online Free Page A

sauce. My parents disliked it when I fed her at the table, but this time they pretended not to notice. They kept looking at me and sighing.
    “Come on, guys,” I said. “You’re making me crazy.”
    “Yeah,” Adam said. “It’s not like she’s going to a combat unit. They’ll probably have her answering phones in a week.”
    I leaned over to smack him on the back of the head.
    “You’re going to be a secretary,” he taunted, leaping back from his seat as I lunged after him. “Maya’s a secretary, Maya’s a secretary,” he sang.
    I took off and chased him around the apartment. Kipi ran after us, barking and jumping to nip my heels.
    Before I went to sleep that night, my parents came to my room to say good night.
    “I can’t believe you won’t be here tomorrow night,” my mother said. “My little
pashoshi
, my baby chick is all grown up.”
    “You’re going to have a great time,” my father said. “Some things will be really awful, like the food. But you’ll make great friends and you’ll grow up.”
    I had heard this speech before.
    “The military is a great experience,” he continued. “It teaches you about discipline and order. Focus. Teamwork.”
    “
Abba
, I know. You’ve told me.”
    “Have I?” he asked. “Well that’s good advice I gave you.”
    “I’ll be fine.”
    “Of course you will,” my mother said briskly. “Look at us here, acting like something awful’s about to happen. Maya, you’ll do great, you’ll have fun. I had a great time during my basic training. I’ll have you know I was a crack shot.”
    I burst out laughing.
    “What? What’s funny about that?”
    “Oh,
Ima,
” I said, snorting. “A crack shot?”
    My mother was round, like an apple, and would shriek like a car alarm at the sight of a cockroach.
    “That’s right,” she said with dignity. “I always hit my mark.”
    “
Leila tov,
” my father said. “Good night.”
    “Good night,” I called out. I could hear my mother protesting as they walked away. “What’s so funny about being a crack shot? You know I was.”
    I lay in bed that night, memorizing my room, wondering how much I might miss it. I couldn’t stop thinking about how I’d look wearing a uniform. Some girls looked so awful in them, and there was nothing you could do about it.
    I went over my packing list again, trying to think if I forgot anything. My mom and I had gone out and bought several packages of white T-shirts and white socks, and I could only wear brown or black hair bands and barrettes. I packed workout clothes, running shoes, shampoo and conditioner, a hairbrush, nail clippers, tampons, but there was that nagging feeling that maybe I’d forgotten something and I’d be stuck without it. I didn’t sleep well that night. I kept waking up, thinking it was morning already.
    In the morning my mom drove me to the central pickup point for Haifa, where all the girls leaving for boot camp assembled. With so many families seeing their girls off, it was hard to get to where I needed to go. At first I wasn’t even sure where I was supposed to be; it almost felt like a party. Parents took pictures, kissed and hugged, and tucked in extra sandwiches for their girls to eat or to share. I looked at my mom and she smiled and hugged me.
    The buses drove us to Tel Hashomer, where everyone started out on the first day of their military service. Buses with girls from all the other pick-up centers kept arriving, one after another. It was amazing the number of girls, like me, milling around, chatting, trying to look like they knew what was happening, but failing. After we got off the bus, there were soldiers with clipboards, reading names off a list. Within an hour, we were separated into squads and formed the “soldier necklace.” We followed one another, like beads strung on a necklace, each picking up an empty kit bag and then walking from stationto station, collecting equipment. You entered the necklace a civilian and you left it a