Don't Panic

PREVIOUSLY WRITTEN ON HIGH SCHOOL NORMALITY

"What's going on?"
"My father's dead."

"How--how did he die?"
"We assume it was suicide. We heard a gunshot and when we broke into his apartment he was just lying here, the gun next to his body, surrounded by blood."

"Mark? Is that you?"
"Yeah, it's me."
"And me."
"And me."
"Holy shit!"

"I thought you were going to save the jewelery box."

"Well, these watches and necklaces and rings don't belong to me, and they don't belong to that damn landlord. They belong to Cal, so I figured that if I bury them, then they'll be with their rightful owner."

"Wow, I can't believe you're breaking up with me."

"I just don't know if I can handle a relationship right now."

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"BROTHER!!!"

It was the warmest welcome I had ever received.

"Hey kiddo! Miss me?"

"Yeah!"

"I missed you too! Hey, why don't you go up and get the toy box out and I'll be up in a minute."

"Okay."

As my half-sister, Maya, ran upstairs to get the Hot Wheels going, my mom approached me in a slightly less warm way.

"Hi Mom."

"Hello, David."

There was no hug, not even a handshake. Just a look of disappointment.

"Now, I understand why you felt the need to go pay respect at your father's grave, but what I don't understand is why you went the entire trip without calling us."

Well, that's one way to be welcomed home.

"Mom, I--"

"Do you know how worried we were? We didn't know if you were hurt or sick or dead. We didn't have any idea when you would be home, and then you just show up and expect us all to forgive you?"

"Forgive me?"

"For walking out on this family just like your father did."

Okay, ouch.

"You know what, I just flew 8,000 miles to bury my father. I am tired, and my back is killing me because I sat in Coach for 17 hours. I'm going upstairs and playing with my sister who is actually happy to see me, and I will just see you later."

My mom said nothing as I walked up the stairs toward my room.

My name is David, and I'm a normal high school student.

And just like any normal person, I didn't like being bombarded after a long journey.

While Maya and I began building tracks for the Hot Wheels cars to speed through, Aaron Stanwick, Mark Adams, and Michael Florence all returned to their own homes. It had been nice to share some of my time in Israel with my three best friends, who used Mark's mom's boyfriend's credit card to surprise me. But, especially only being there for a couple of days, the time difference was taxing on them.

"Mom, I can't go to the youth activity tonight! I'm too tired!"

"How do you expect me to do the dishes when I can't even keep my eyes open?"

"Mal, I can't handle phone sex right now! I'll call you tomorrow!"

It had been a difficult trip for all of us, but for me, it was much more than the time difference. While I was away, not only did I bury my father, but I also got dumped, evicted, and sexually harrassed by my father's really hot neighbor (in retrospect, the sexual harrassment wasn't that bad, but it made me very uncomfortable). I was looking forward to coming home and just relxing, but I knew that there would be no relaxing, especially once I went back to school.

It was late March, and Spring Break was nearing its end. Senioritis was at its peak, and my recent loss would not make it any easier.

The drive to school on that Monday was silent; Coldplay's Viva la Vida album was faintly audible, but neither Jake nor I attempted conversation. My brother and I had drifted so far apart that sometimes I didn't even know who he was. He had begun wearing eyeliner as well as an array of really gaudy scarves from Hot Topic. I never saw him at school, so I had no idea who he hung out with, but they couldn't be good people if they were influencing him to act the way that he was.

I pulled into my usual parking space and as soon as he was out of the Prius, he slammed the door and stormed off. Aaron arrived shortly after I did and parked next to me.

"What's with him?"

"I don't know. He never talks to me. But it's okay, because next year when I'm at ASU I won't have to deal with him or anyone else in my house."

"Something happen?"

"Well, my mom decided it would be real fun to accuse me of walking out on the family by going to Israel."

"What?"

"Yeah. Apparently, because I took advantage of a plane ticket that Cal bought for me and because I didn't ask permission, I'm the antichrist! Like I need permission to go to my own father's funeral."

"Hey, calm down, it's fine. Let's just focus on school."

The day was a blur. I remember Mr. Hurt talking about logarithms, and I remember Mrs. Pepperdine mentioning anapestic tetrameter, and I remember Mr. Jackson changing his mind about whether aggregate demand shifted to the right or the left, but I could not even begin to tell you how to convert a logarithm to an exponent, or how many stressed syllables are in that particular meter, or why aggregate demand was shifting in the first place. Everything I learned that day went in one ear and out the other because all I could focus on was the image of dry blood on the floor where Cal had killed himself. I had taken notes, but when I looked at them at lunch to review them, I had no recollection of any of it. The only class I could somewhat focus on was choir, but even there I had some issues getting the dance steps down for our Showcase Concert.

"DON'T YOU ALL UNDERSTAND THAT WE HAVE A CONCERT IN A MONTH?"

It was a comfort to know, though, that I wasn't the only one that couldn't handle the choreography.

"I mean, seriously! It's just a step-touch leading into a three-point turn! NO QUESTIONS!"

Miss Connolly was really cool outside the classroom, but inside she could be a real pain.

"I know it's our last concert and everything, but I'm having a hard time focusing."

"Tell me about it."

"Mark and David, are you done talking?"

"Yes ma'am."

"Good. Let's take it from the top."

After choir, my mind was even more of a blur. I could tell that Aaron and Michael were having some sort of conversation about something while Mark made out with his girlfriend Mal Wales, but I was just trying to mull over everything that was going through my head--Cal's suicide, the entire trip to Israel, and behind everything, the idea that high school was nearing its end. There would be no breaks between now and the end of the year with the rigorous rehearsals for the Showcase Concert, prep for AP tests, and the final issue of The Summit Sentinel. The end of high school was a strange thought; it felt like I had been going to classes at Summit Peak High School for a million years and it never occurred to me that one day it would actually be over.

DING DONG DING DONG

I got up from our lunch spot without even saying anything. My mind was in a daze; I couldn't focus on anything. I faintly heard Michael shout "See you in Jazz Choir," but I said nothing in response.

I walked slowly toward the newsroom, taking one step at a time, feeling as though I was on the verge of a meltdown. Images of the closed casket and the hundreds of people that mourned him as his body was lowered into the grave clouded my mind. I suddenly yearned for the warm sands of Tel Aviv to be right beneath my toes, and I longed for the warm sun to embrace my face as I hopped into the Mediterranean Sea. I kept hoping I would turn around and see the clear waters before me, my best friends waiting for me to join them. But what I saw instead was nowhere near the paradise I wished for.

Standing outside the journalism room, as if she was waiting for me, was Callie Anderson, my ex-girlfriend who decided to break up with me while I was thousands of miles away.

"Hey."

"Hey."

My former girlfriend Joy Harris had gone to a different school, so I never had to worry about bumping into her in the halls after we broke up.

DING DONG DING DONG

"We should--uh--probably get in there before Mrs. Beasely has our heads."

I powerwalked past Callie to get into the room and forgot to hold the door for her. I don't know if it was because I was in a daze or because subconsciously I really didn't want to hold the door for her. Either way, the door almost slammed in her face as I headed toward the podium to start class.

"BUBBLE CHEEKS NOW! Welcome back, I hope you all had a great spring break, please turn your attention to David."

"Thanks Mrs. Beasely. So, we have a deadline coming up next week, and it's a pretty big one because it's our last issue before the big senior issue."

For some reason, sitting in front of the newspaper staff helped me focus more. Maybe it was that I didn't want to look bad in front of Callie, or just that I didn't want to look bad in front of the staff. But I suddenly felt confident and professional.

"I know we all got our assignments before spring break so hopefully you are all making good progress. Editors, we need to have a meeting right now, so everyone get to work."

The editors, which included Callie, came forward to the podium ready to hear my instruction. Callie looked nervous.

"Okay, so we need to start talking layout for the issue. We're doing a 32-pager this issue because there's a lot of articles. Alix, what's the status on copy?"

"I've gotten a few articles and they're looking pretty good, but the writers are still having a hard time grasping proper style."

"Are you coaching them on it when you give them back their pages?"

"No..."

"You need to make sure to do that. Um, Callie, have you started working on some layouts, fonts, etc?"

"Well, I've been focusing on my article."

"Well, you need to be focusing on layout too. We go to press in two weeks!"

"I've been on Spring Break."

"So have the rest of us, but the rest of us are on top of things. How do you expect to succeed in NYU's journalism program if you can't stay on top of things here?"

"Um, okay, I'll have some layouts drawn up by tomorrow."

"Great! That would be really helpful! Okay, so since our layout editor has been falling behind on her job, we all need to pitch in. Tonight, everyone needs to draw up the layouts for their sections, and then Callie will use those to help her create the final layout template. I think that's everything we need to discuss, so go work."

I headed over to a computer and started doing some research about my latest article about the Drama Department's production of Footloose and set up some interviews with cast members. After class, as I headed toward the choir room, Callie caught up with me.

"Hey Jackass!"

"Excuse me?"

"What the fuck was that in there?"

"What?"

"I'm sorry, but that little outburst in there was about a little more than my editor position."

"I'm just trying to make sure everyone's on top of things. That's what editor-in-chief does."

"My ass."

"What about it?"

"David, I know you're all about professionalism when it comes to that staff, but that in there was not professional, and I think we just need to talk."

"Okay, Callie. Talk."

"I didn't mean--"

"Oh, you meant when it's convenient for you. I see, some things just never change."

"You know what, I am under a lot of pressure right now and I do NOT need this!"

"YOU'RE under a lot of pressure? YOU? Don't make me laugh, you wouldn't know pressure if it went up behind you and bit you in the ass!"

"David--"

"No, I'm sick of hearing your excuses. You're just trying to make it all about--"

"DAVID!"

"WHAT?"

"Look over there."

I turned around and saw Jake shaking hands with Steve Weiss.

"What the hell?"

As Jake walked away toward his next class, I walked toward Steve with a few words to say.

"What the fuck just happened?"

"Oh hey Davey! Just servicing a new customer."

"Did you know that that new customer is my BROTHER?"

"Oh now it's a family affair! Excellent!"

"EXCELLENT? THAT'S ALL YOU CAN SAY?"

"What do you expect me to say, Dave? He wants some junk, I'm a junkyard. A guy's gotta eat."

"Steve you have plenty of loyal customers. My little brother doesn't need to be one of them!"

"Jake's a troubled boy, and I have something that can help him out from time to time. I like to think of it as me doing a civil service."

"Drug trafficking is not a civil service! It's ILLEGAL!"

DING DONG DING DONG

"You know what, you have a class to get to, and so do I. Why don't you talk to Jake about it? He's the one who's buying."

As Steve walked away, his last words rang in my ear. I could blame Steve all I wanted, but even he always said that he doesn't usually seek out customers; they find him.

My focus was gone by the time I got to Jazz Choir. I was sloppily reading rhythms, my pitch was off, and it was bringing down the quality of the entire song.

"David, what's the issue."

"Uh, nothing Miss Connolly. Just--tired."

"Well, you can take a nap when you get home. Right now we need your voice."

"Yes ma'am."

I attempted to focus a little more and found enough focus to get through the rest of the class period. After choir, Aaron, Michael, and I walked out to our cars and waited for the parking lot to clear a little bit.

"What do you mean he bought drugs?"

"Is there really anything else that that could mean?"

"Are you sure Steve's not pulling your leg?"

"About this? No. Steve Weiss is a lot of things, but he is not a liar."

"You should talk to Jake first at least, you know, before you jump to any conclusions."

"Too late."

Jake got to the Prius, opened the door, and slammed it shut.

"Well, good luck with that."

"Thanks."

We were silent at first, and then I eased into it.

"So, how was your day?"

"Fine."

"Anything exciting?"

"No."

"Nothing you want to talk about?"

"No."

"Jake--I know."

"What?"

"I know about you and Steve!"

"I don't know what you're talking about."

"Jake, I know that you bought drugs from him this afternoon before 7th period. I saw it, and Steve confirmed it."

"Oh."

"Did you learn NOTHING from my REHAB EXPERIENCE?"

Jake was silent.

"Do you want to spend the first six months of your summer detoxicating yourself and the next year of your life in therapy?"

"You just don't understand!"

"What don't I understand? Turning pain into addiction? I LIVED IT!"

"I'm not LIKE you, David! I'm different! I don't have any sort of escape from my problems! I NEED the stuff!"

"Jake, if there's one thing I learned above all else when I was in rehab, it was that no one needs drugs. It's desire. It's something that's available to you and easy for you to get a hold of. Steve won't deny a customer a drug ever. What do your friends think?"

"They all do it too!"

"You're hanging out with DRUG ADDICTS?"

"They're not addicts! They can quit anytime and so can I!"

"Jake, you have a problem, and hanging out with those people is not going to help you. I think it would be a good idea for you to go to rehab and get cleaned up."

"What do YOU know? YOU RELAPSED!"

"Yeah, once. But I got past that too, and I think that if you take my advice you can get past it too."

We were silent as we pulled into the garage. Jake slammed the door shut as soon as he got out of the car and stormed into the house. I rested my head on the steering wheel, feeling like a total and complete failure. I knew that Jake and I had drifted, but I thought that I could do something to help.

RING RING RING

"Hello?"

"David, we need to talk."

"Callie, I have had a difficult afternoon, and it's only 2:30. Can we please talk tomorrow?"

"No, because then you're going to push it back to the next day and the next day and the next day until we go off to college and never get a chance to talk about this."

She was right. It was bound to be an unpleasant conversation, but it was neccessary.

"When?"

"Is now a good time?"

I looked at the door leading from the garage to my house, knowing that Jake was alone in the house doing whatever drugs he bought from Steve.

"Now's as good a time as any. Meet you at the Coffee Plantation?"

"Sounds good. See you in a few."

So I drove off, leaving Jake to his own devices and trying despearately not to think about it. I had done what I could to try to help him, and he resisted it. I had done the right thing, and now it was his problem. Besides, I had enough problems of my own to deal with.

Sometimes, when helping others doesn't work too well, you really just have to think about yourself.

David Adler

Normal High School Student

Stand By Me

PREVIOUSLY WRITTEN ON HIGH SCHOOL NORMALITY

"This is a ticket for you. One day, when you do understand all of this, please come find me."

"What's going on?"
"My father's dead."

"We are now making our final descent into Ben Gurion International Airport."

"You are David?"
"Yes, and you are--"
"Ronit. I buzzed you in."
"Oh hi, it's so nice to meet you."
"I lived across ze hall from your fazer."

"Wow, I can't believe you're breaking up with me."

"I just don't know if I can handle a relationship right now."

"May I help you?"
"Calvin Adler is being evicted."
"Are you kidding me?"
"This is no kidding matter. Please tell Calvin Adler he has three days to get out."

"How--how did he die?"
"We assume it was suicide. We heard a gunshot and when we broke into his apartment he was just lying here, the gun next to his body, surrounded by blood."

"Are you sure that going to Israel is such a good idea?"

"David is our best friend. Whether he likes it or not, he needs us."

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BUZZ

"Who is it?"

I expected it to be the landlord with another friendly reminder to pack up all of Cal's shit.

"Guess who?"

But instead I got the three people I least expected.

"Mark? Is that you?"

"Yeah, it's me."

"And me."

"And me."

"Holy shit!"

I buzzed them in and about a minute later, Mark Adams, Aaron Stanwick, and Michael Florence were standing outside my dead father's door.

"HOLY SHIT! It IS true! Oh my fucking God!"

To say that I was surprised would be an understatement. To say that I was ecstatic would be even more of an understatement.

"What the hell are you guys doing here?"

"Well, Aaron told us about Cal, so my mom's new beau found us three seats on the next flight to Israel."

"That easily?"

"He's more loaded than my cock."

"Dang it, Mark! We almost went an entire 24 hours without you making some vulgar sex joke!"

"Sorry, that one actually was really unnecessary."

"You think?"

My name is David, and I'm a normal high school student.

And perhaps the biggest understatement of all was that now, more than ever, I needed my boys.

While the guys got settled in (meaning, while they slept like babies), I went across the hall to talk to Cal's very hot neighbor, Ronit.

"So she just dumped you?"

"Yeah. I mean, she wasn't planning on doing it right then and there, but she did."

"I am so sorry, David. You are dealing wiz so much right now. Zis was not a good time for zis."

"You're telling me."

"May I offer you some rebound sex?"

"No thanks. I'm not really in the mood."

"Okay. Just putting it out there."

Ronit was sexy, in her 20s, very easy to talk to, and seemingly even easier to get into bed, but between my grief over my father's death, my newfound singleness, and the fact that I needed to get all of Cal's stuff out of the apartment in the next couple of days, I had enough going on. At least the guys were there to help me out.

KNOCK KNOCK KNOCK

"I'll get it."

Ronit opened the door to find Michael standing in front of it. As soon as he saw Ronit standing there, the outlines of her nipples clearly visible underneath her tight pink t-shirt, his heart melted.

"Uh, hi."

"Hi."

"I'm--uh--looking for David."

"Hi Michael."

"Uh, hey. We're all awake."

"Cool."

Awkward silence.

"Michael, this is my neighbor, Ronit."

"Nice to meet you, Michael."

"Nice to meet you too."

"Michael I'll be there in a minute."

"Um--okay."

Ronit laughed weakly when the door closed.

"My three best friends flew in this morning to surprise me and have been sleeping for the past couple of hours. That one's usually a lot smoother."

"He's cute. Is he a virgin like you?"

"No, he's not a virgin...and neither am I!"

Ronit laughed hysterically.

"I'm only teasing. You should go to your friends. I will see you later."

That night, the guys and I went to Orna and Ella, a popular bistro. Over dinner, I brought them up to speed on my trip thus far.

"So then, after the funeral, I call Callie and she breaks up with me!"

"Seriously? Why?"

"She said she couldn't handle a relationship. I think it's about the whole Joy thing, but she'll never admit that because it would be showing a sign of weakness."

"What a ho."

"That's not even the best part! Right after the break-up, some douchebag comes to the door and hands me an eviction notice!"

"No!"

"Yeah, so I have to get all of Cal's crap out of the apartment in the next couple of days."

"Where are you going to put it?"

"Beats me! I mean, I guess I could ship it back home, but that's gonna cost a ton."

"Well, maybe tomorrow we could go through everything. You know, help you figure out what you want to ship and what you feel you can leave behind."

"Is that really my decision? I mean, it's Cal's stuff."

"But you're his son, and you're entitled to make these decisions."

"I guess you're right."

"So, what's the story with Ronit?"

"Ooo, you like her, huh?"

"Who's Ronit?"

"This beautiful woman that lives across the hall."

"DIBS!"

"You have a girlfriend."

"Oh yeah. Sorry, it's still kind of a new concept to me. I'm gonna call her right now. I'll be back."

His hand was already halfway down his pants as he headed toward the payphone.

"Anyway, what's the story?"

"Well, she lives alone, she wears very little clothing most of the time, and she has offered me sex twice."

"And you haven't taken her up on it?"

"Well, the first time I was in a committed relationship, and the second time I really didn't feel like it."

"God, if I were you I would have been in her before she even finished offering!"

"Who are you, Mark?"

"Seriously, this really isn't like you at all."

"Well, it's just that ever since me and Leslie broke up I have been hornier than a ram!"

"Nice."

"Well, if she's offered David sex, I'm sure she'd be more than willing to serve you as well."

"She did think you were cute."

"Oh my God! She talked to you? What did she say?"

"She asked if you were a virgin, and I said no. By the way, do I seem like a virgin to you guys?"

"I don't really know how to answer that."

After dinner, we went back to the apartment and sat on the floor in front of the fireplace.

"He killed himself. No warning signs, no note, just a pistol lying in a pool of blood."

"Damn. I'm so sorry."

"No one saw it coming?"

"No. Ronit said that they heard a gunshot and that was it."

"Shit."

"You know, he never called once while he was here. Never wrote, never e-mailed. Never cared."

"I'm sure he just wanted to give you your space."

"And you know, I never tried to contact him either. I guess I didn't really miss him. I don't even know why I'm here paying respect to a man who I obviously don't care about."

"If you didn't care about him, you wouldn't have come."

Michael was right. I did feel like I needed to bring some closure to the situation. Cal and I hadn't spoken since he left back in December, and to be honest I didn't really feel a need to contact him, but he was on my mind constantly, and the idea of rebuilding my relationship with him was always there. I just wished I'd had a chance to save our relationship before he was buried.

The next day I woke up before the other three, so I threw on a sweatshirt, a pair of gym shorts, and a hat, and headed toward the beach to take a walk.

The early morning tide crashed in as I walked along the sandy shore of the Tel Aviv beach. It was about 6 a.m., and there were very few people around. The sun had begun to rise and I couldn't help but smile at the beautiful sights around me. It was all so calm, so refreshing. For an instant, I felt that everything was right with the world and just breathed it in. What started out as a walk became a jog, and what became a jog transformed into a run. I felt free as I sprinted across the the sandy threshold. For the first time in a while, I was genuinely happy.

When I got back to the apartment, Aaron had begun making a large pan of eggs while Michael channel-surfed and Mark updated his Facebook status on his iTouch.

"Good morning. Where have you been?"

"Woke up really early so I went for a run on the beach."

"How was it?"

"Exhilarating. It was a good way for me to clear my head."

KNOCK KNOCK KNOCK

I opened the door to find Ronit, wearing a tight halter top and low-cut jeans.

"Boker Tov, David!"

"Good morning to you, too. Won't you come in?"

The guys' jaws dropped at the sight of her.

"Guys, this is Ronit. Ronit, this is Aaron and Mark, and you met Michael already."

"Nice to see you again, Michael."

Michael blushed.

"So, what are your plans for ze day, gentlemen?"

"Well, we were going to start going through Cal's things to see what we should ship back home."

"Zat sounds--boring."

"Well, unfortunately he's being evicted, so it's something that has to be done."

"Look, you are only going to be in Israel for a couple more days. Zere's so much to see. You can pack up his stuff later. Right now, we are going to Jerusalem."

"Jerusalem? Isn't that kind of far?"

"It's only an hour's drive to ze most beautiful city on Earth. Come on!"

And before I could argue the importance of getting our work done, Michael, Mark, and Aaron were out the door.

By the time we got to Jerusalem, I was glad we blew off going through Cal's stuff. It was more beautiful than I had ever imagined; the walls were covered in ivy and some of the buildings dated back so long ago that I couldn't even begin to estimate how old it was.

Finally, after walking around for a while, we approached the Western Wall in time for morning minyon. Ronit went to the other side of the mehitza (the curtain that divides the men and the women) and the four of us went closer to the wall. There were people of all walks of life; elderly men, college students, and even children were there writing notes and placing them within the cracks of the wall. When they took the Torah out, I was nearly brought to tears; it hit me that every Jew at some point in their lives had faced eastward toward the wall. Whether they were in America, England, or standing right in the spot that I was, their eyes were fixated on the same exact point. At the end I said the mourner's prayer for Cal and wrote a short note to stick in one of the cracks.

We met up with Ronit and headed back toward Tel Aviv for dinner. She treated us to lunch at Tazza D'oro, a delicious cafe in the neighborhood of Neve Tzedek. Afterward, we went back to the apartment and the four of us began going through Cal's stuff.

"First thing's first, are you going to want any of his clothes?"

"Well considering he was much shorter and fatter than I, I probably won't be wearing any of it."

"Okay, how about his sheets?"

"They're nice, but I'm not sure they're necessary."

"How about his furniture?"

"Well, we have furniture at home, so I don't think we need to ship it."

"How about the pans?"

"Nah."

"The dishrags?"

"No."

"Is there anything here that you do want?"

I didn't say a word. I just headed toward his room.

I looked around. The bedsheets and the floor were still stained with blood, and a chalk outline of his body had been drawn, but overlooking the crime scene was his jewelery box, sitting neatly on the dresser for him to grab a watch or a necklace or a ring. In looking at it, none of the other horrible sights in his room seemed to matter. Cal had died; I knew that. But I knew also that I didn't need every single thing he had in his possession to remember that although he was no longer living, and although I hadn't spoken to him in many months, I still loved him, and he still loved me.

"This is what I want," I said as I held the box for them to see. "It contains all of his jewelery, which he probably treasured most in his life. If anything should be saved, it should be this box and everything in it."

The next day we packed our bags and got ready to leave. I had gotten the closure I needed, and it was time to go home.

"Come on, guys. Our flight leaves at 3."

"It's only 9."

"But there's something I need to do before we go to the airport."

"What?"

"Get your swim trunks on, boys. We're going to the beach."

We brought our bags to Ronit's apartment in case the landlord came to lock up Cal's apartment and throw away the key. I took one last look at the apartment where my father had lived and died, and then we advanced toward the beach.

"David, you know I'm all for fun in the sun, but do we really have time?"

"This will only take a minute. Help me dig!"

With our feet we dug a small hole in the sand and when I thought it was deep enough, I placed the box inside.

"Are you sure about this, Dave?"

"More sure than I have ever been about anything."

"Wait--I don't get it. I thought you were going to save the jewelery box."

"Yeah--for Cal."

"What?"

"Well, these watches and necklaces and rings don't belong to me, and they don't belong to that damn landlord. They belong to Cal, so I figured that if I bury them, then they'll be with their rightful owner."

"That is potentially the most beautiful thing I have ever heard."

We kicked sand over the jewelery box and stood for a moment, staring at the sand.

"So...what now?"

We stood for a moment in silence before I broke the solemnity.

"First one to the water's a rotten egg!"

We raced to the warm waters of the Mediterranean Sea and just screwed around like teenagers are supposed to do. We dunked each other's heads and pushed each other around and laughed so hard that we cried. The sun was shining, the water was warm, and above all else, the four of us were together.

And once again, in the waters of Tel Aviv, Israel, everything was right with the world.

David Adler

Normal High School Student

Leaving on a Jet Plane

PREVIOUSLY WRITTEN ON HIGH SCHOOL NORMALITY
"What's going on?"

"My father's dead."

"TELL ME SHE'S LYING! TELL ME DADDY'S NOT DEAD!"

"I'm sorry sweetie. Daddy's gone."

"Callie and I got back together yesterday."
"You did? That's really great! I'm so happy for you guys."
"But this means you and I can't see each other anymore, okay?"
"You guys were seeing each other?"

"We don't have the money to go, so we don't even get to pay our respects to our dead father?"

"Who cares? He was an asshole, let him rot with no one to pay respects."

"How the fuck could you say that?"

"Because it's the truth."

"You didn't answer any of our calls, and you wouldn't talk to us yesterday, and you never cry. So, what the heck is going on?"

"You really want to know what's going on?"

"No, I've been waiting out here for you because I don't want to know."

"CAL DIED!"

"I almost forgot. This is a ticket for you. One day, when you do understand all of this, please come find me."

-------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------

"DAVID AARON ADLER!"

Louder please, I'm not sure the president of Indonesia heard you quite clearly.

"Uh, hi Mom. Did you...get my note?"

"Oh, you mean the tiny piece of paper that said 'Mom, Cal left me a ticket to Israel, going to the funeral'?!?! What the hell are you thinking?"

"That Cal left me a ticket to Israel and that I'm going to the funeral."

"No, you're wrong. You will get into that Prius RIGHT NOW and come HOME!"

"Someone has to be at Cal's funeral, Mom, and I can't let this ticket go to waste. I will be back in a few days, a week tops."

"Now you listen here, mister--"

"Love you, bye!"

"DAVID!"

I had never blatantly disobeyed my mother before, and I have to say that I really didn't like the feeling of being rebellious toward the one adult in my life who has consistently been there for me, but being rebellious was the only way to do what I needed to do.

My name is David, and I'm a normal high school student.

And while disobeying my parent was a totally normal high school activity, disobeying my parent in order to bury another was not.

Back at home, my mom, along with my brother Jake, my sister Libby, my half-sister Maya, and my--"stepmother" Lucy Greer, were all in a frenzy as they tried to figure out how to remedy the situation.

"He just--went to Israel?"

"Apparently. Here's the note."

"Mom, Cal left me a ticket to Israel. Going to the funeral. Be back in a few days. Love, David."

"At least he left a note."

"That's not the point! The point is that he is off to a foreign country--alone--without my permission and without any consideration for anyone else in this family!"

"What's consideration?"

"Thinking about other people."

"So David din't think of you?"

"Nope, he just up and left."

"To be with Daddy?"

"No, to--"

Mom stopped and think of what the three year-old socrates before her just said.

"Yes. To be with Daddy."

And suddenly she understood why I had made my decision.

But there was one group of people who still didn't know why I made the decision or even that I did...

"Guess who has two thumbs and got laid last night?"

"Does Mal mind that you share your sex life so freely?"

"It's locker room talk, she understands that."

"But we're not in the locker room. We're at the Coffee Plantation."

"Yes we are, and David's not. Has anyone heard from him? I texted him and he never responded."

Aaron Stanwick knew something that neither Mark Adams nor Michael Florence knew.

"He's starting to scare me. He hasn't been himself."

And he knew also that it wasn't his place to tell, that it was my business, and that under no circumstances should he open his mouth and say--

"Cal died."

My friends stared in amazement.

"What?"

"When?"

"How?"

"Look, I don't know any more than you do, but all I know is that David freaked out at me when I tried to be sympathetic, and that he probably needs some time."

"Well how much time is he going to need?"

"However much time he needs. His father died."

"His father that he never talks to."

"His father nonetheless. Now look, Spring Break starts tomorrow. A week of space should be good for him."

And back on the plane, my alone-time began. As I watched the flight attendant pointing to the emergency exits, I thought about the trip I was about to make. I had never even left the country, let alone taken a trip to Israel. The only reason I even had a passport was because Libby had this irrational fear of the military issuing a draft, and so we all got passports so that in the event of a draft, we could all flee to Canada. So legal, I know. But none of that mattered at the moment. All that mattered was that I was going to a place that generations of Jews had visited, a place that even Moses was not allowed into, and the place where my father wanted to be buried. It was, for all intents and purposes, the most important place in the world.

As the plane took off and headed toward Ben Gurion International Airport in Tel Aviv, I remembered being a little kid and listening to Cal tell me stories about going to Israel; how it was the most beautiful place in the entire world, how there was nowhere on Earth like it, how the girls were hotter than the sun itself. I remembered how I felt even at seven or eight years-old about the country, and more importantly about Cal. I thought he was the most amazing person on the face of the planet. He promised me always that we were going to go to Israel together someday, the entire family altogether. That would never happen. Not only was Cal dead, but we hadn't been a family in a very long time. No trip to Israel was ever going to fix that.

While I waited for Continental Airlines to begin its in-flight presentation of The Princess and the Frog, I turned on Coldplay's Viva la Vida album full blast on my iPod and drowned myself in the opening intervals of "Life in Technicolor."

17 hours later, I was in the Holy Land.

"We are now making our final descent into Ben Gurion International Airport. Please stay in your seat with your seatbelt fastened until we instruct you to remove it. Welcome to Tel Aviv and thank you for flying with us. עכשיו אנחנו עושים הירידה הסופית שלנו בנתב"ג. בבקשה להישאר במושב שלך עם חגורת הבטיחות שלך מהודק עד להנחות אותך להסיר אותו. שלום תל אביב מודה לך על טס איתנו."

The view of the city was breathtaking as we made our final descent. The water was as blue as the sky and against the beach backdrop were buildings and highways and cars and people, all with their own stories and many of them Jews like me.

I hurried off the plane, my luggage in hand, and took a deep breath. This, I thought to myself, must be what home feels like.

The first thing I did was find a phone book so I could look up Cal's address. Once I found it, I grabbed a cab.

"223 Nehemia Street please."

"Ok."

Thank God everyone in Israel speaks English!

And back in a primarily English-speaking country, my friends were becoming increasingly worried as none of them had heard from me in almost 21 hours. So, they decided to stop by my house to make sure I was okay.

KNOCK KNOCK KNOCK

My mom answered the door.

"Hi Mrs. A. Is David around?"

"He didn't tell you?"

"Tell us what?"

"Um, David's in Israel."

"What?"

"Well, his father is being buried there, and apparently he had a round-trip ticket, so he left and he'll be back in a few days. Anyway, I'm sure he'll give you all a call when he gets a chance. Goodbye now."

Mom closed the door, leaving everyone stunned.

"He just--went to Israel?"

"Without telling us?"

"I know, it's--bizarre."

"Do you think he told Callie?"

"I would assume so. They did get back together the other day."

"But she still doesn't know about J0y."

"He wasn't planning on saying anything."

"He's gotten pretty good at not saying anything, don't you think?"

"Aaron--"

"Don't 'Aaron' me. I'm tired of his distance. He never tells me anything anymore. It's like he doesn't trust me or realize that I will always be there for him no matter what."

"Except that there was that period of time last semester when you left all of us for that bitch."

"So now this is my fault?"

"Guys! There is nothing we can do about it while he's a million miles away. Let's just go get some pizza or something."

As they headed toward Michael's Jeep, Mark stopped dead in his tracks with a crazy idea in his head.

Meanwhile, as the cab came to a stop, I stared out the window at the apartment complex. In getting out of the cab, I would be going to a dead man's home; my dead father's home. I wasn't sure I was prepared for it.

"Longer you wait, more you pay."

I had only brought a couple hundred dollars, and I was in no mood to waste it all sitting in a cab pondering whether or not to go into my father's apartment. I paid the man, got out of the cab, and buzzed someone who was on his floor.

"Allo?"

"Uh, Shalom, uh, shem sheli David Adler, ben Calvin Adler."

"Oh, ze rabbi's son? He mentioned zat your Hebrew is no good."

Way to have some faith, Cal.

"Um, so I've come here to go to his funeral and all that, and I'm going to be staying in his apartment. Can you please buzz me in?"

"Okay."

BUZZ

"Thank you."

I headed up to the second floor and walked down the hall to Apartment 13, where Cal lived. Across the hall in Apartment 12 was a beautiful woman in her 20's with long black hair, tan skin, and large breasts tucked away in a silk robe. She was smoking a cigarette and leaning against her apartment door.

"You are David?"

"Yes, and you are--"

"Ronit. I buzzed you in."

"Oh hi, it's so nice to meet you."

"I lived across ze hall from your fazer. So sorry for your loss."

Again with the sorrow.

"Uh, thanks."

"Would you like a cigarette?"

"No thanks, I don't smoke."

"Oh, well at least join me for breakfast."

"Breakfast? It's almost 5."

"Not in Portugal it's not."

At first I didn't realize what Ronit was hinting at, and then I realized that she was talking about--

"Woah woah woah, look lady I hardly know you, and besides I have a girlfriend who I will not be cheating on. I am here to do one thing and one thing only--bury my father. I will be gone in a few days."

"Oh, I am so embarassed! I am so sorry David, I did not mean to offend you."

"It's alright. I'll just see you at the funeral then. It's tomorrow afternoon, right?"

"Right. See you."

Things like that NEVER happen to me stateside.

RING RING RING

A very tired Callie Anderson answered the phone.

"Hello?"

"Guess who?"

"David? Oh my God where are you and why are you calling me at 2 a.m.?"

"Oh shit, forgot about the time difference."

"What time is it where you are?"

"5 p.m."

"5 p.m.? Where are you, Australia?"

"Israel."

"WHAT?"

I could hear Callie's parents in the background asking her what the commotion was about.

"I can see that this is a bad time for you, so why don't you get some sleep and we'll talk tomorrow."

"Tomorrow for you or tomorrow for me?"

"It'll be soon, okay?"

"Okay. I love you."

"I love you, too."

As soon as I got off the phone, it occurred to me that if it was 2 a.m. Callie's time, it was 2 a.m. my time, so I crashed on Cal's couch.

The funeral commenced at 11:30 a.m. on a Tuesday morning. It was a closed casket, which was odd for Cal since he always wanted to be in full view of everyone, but it was better this way. From the curtained area reserved for immediate family I saw what looked like hundreds of people. Being that I was the only immediate family member present, I sat alone, I mourned alone, and I felt very, very alone.

We proceeded to the burial place and the rabbi tore a piece of black ribbon that I had pinned to my black jacket (it was customary to rip an article of clothing and wear it during the seven day period of shiva, or immediate mourning). As I watched them lower his casket and said the Mourner's Prayer I nearly broke down, with no one to catch me as I fell to my feet.

Ronit hosted a luncheon in honor of Rabbi Adler at her apartment. She wore a black, very conservative suit (much more comforting than what she had been wearing).

"Hello, Ronit."

"Allo David. How are you doing?"

"I guess I'm okay considering the circumstances. If you'll excuse me I have to make a call."

RING RING RING

"Hello?"

"Hi, I know that it's like 11:30 your time, but I figured that since it's Spring Break you'd be up."

"Yeah, I'm up. So what's up?"

"Well, the funeral was today."

"How was it?"

"It was a very nice service, and a ton of people were there. I think he would have enjoyed it."

"So when are you coming home?"

"Not completely sure yet. There are some things that I wanna see before I leave. I don't know when I'm gonna be in Israel again."

"Okay, just don't stay too much longer. There's some things we need to--talk about."

That couldn't be good.

"What do you mean there are things we need to talk about?"

"Let's not do this over the phone."

"What, are you breaking up with me?"

There was a pause on the other end of the line.

"Wow, I can't believe you're breaking up with me."

"I just feel like we need to spend some time--"

"Apart? We already did that, remember?"

"I just don't know if I can handle a relationship right now."

"What changed between Friday afternoon and now? Is this about me sleeping with Joy? Because if you ask me, whatever happened while we were on our break stays there and has nothing to do with us."

"David I have really gotta get to sleep."

"No, Callie, wait!"

"Call me when you're back in Arizona."

"Is everysing alright?"

"No. Thank you so much for everything, Ronit. I'll see you later."

I walked across the hall to Cal's apartment and I slammed the door. I couldn't believe that I buried my father AND got dumped on the same day. Could things have gotten any worse?

KNOCK KNOCK KNOCK

"May I help you?"

"יש לנו צו הפינוי של קלווין אדלר"

"IN ENGLISH PLEASE!"

"Calvin Adler is being evicted."

"Are you kidding me? Are you FUCKING KIDDING ME?"

"This is no kidding matter. Please tell Calvin Adler he has three days to get out."

"Three days? How am I supposed to get all of this shit out of here in three days?"

"As ze Americans say, when zere's a will, zere's a way."

"Because I am SO willing to do this. Okay, thank you for the notice. Bye bye."

And once again the door was slammed, and I screamed.

And somewhere over the Atlantic ocean, a baby was screaming next to Mark.

"SHUT UP!!! SHUT UP SHUT UP SHUT UP!!!"

"Is there a problem, sir?"

"Yes, I was seated next to this adorable baby, and he REFUSES to NAP!"

"Well I'm sorry, sir, but you are just going to have to endure it."

And across the aisle a few rows up, Micahel and Aaron sat.

"Are you sure that going to Israel is such a good idea? I mean you know David. He's very private about this kind of stuff."

"Aaron, David is our best friend. Whether he likes it or not, he needs us. And besides, Mark's new potential stepdad was able to score us these last-minute tickets. How could we resist?"

"Very true. I just hope he's not too overwhelmed when he sees us. I know how he can be."

"Well, when we get there we will be sleep deprived and we will have to crash for a few hours. By then he'll be hosed down and we'll just have another Fearsome Foursome adventure."

"Fearsome Foursome?"

"You're right. We'll work on the name later."

So while my friends commuted toward the land of milk and honey, I sat in the land of salt and vinegar. I was astounded. I couldn't even trust Cal to pay rent on a small Israeli apartment.

I ventured into the bedroom to see if I could find any boxes to start packing stuff up, but upon entry, I was greeted by the sight of dry blood on the edge of the bed and the floor next to it.

"Oh my God!"

"Sad, isn't it?"

Startled, I turned around to face Ronit.

"Shit, you scared me!"

"He was such a nice old man. No one saw it coming."

"Saw what coming? You're scaring me."

"Did anyone tell you how your fazer died?"

"No. How--how did he die?"

"We assume it was suicide. We heard a gunshot and when we broke into his apartment he was just lying here, the gun next to his body, surrounded by blood."

"Oh my God! Oh my God!"

And on the unspacious floor of the tiny bedroom in the small apartment in the minute country of Israel, I completely broke down. It was proof--physical proof--that Cal had died and that this was happening. And in my entire life, even in my darkest hours, I had never felt so devastated or alone.

David Adler

Normal High School Student