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Have you ever been the new kid in school? Pretty scary, right?

Well, try being the new kid in school in a completely different country with classes in a completely different language. I realized quickly that it was time to sink or swim! The first day was absolutely hellacious — by the end of it I needed a life jacket.

My homeroom was a nightmare — nobody said a word to me except for the teacher, but even that was only during roll call. In between classes, I walked the halls like a geek, staring at my shoes and clutching the straps of my backpack for dear life. Call me paranoid, but I could feel their eyes on me, the freaky new girl with the pasty white skin.

Thank God Marla was there with me. Even though she was one grade ahead, at least we got to meet up at lunchtime. Honestly, if I had to spend lunch sitting by myself I would probably throw up!

The first day she introduced me to some of her friends.

“This is Mackenzie Hill,” she said, putting a protective arm around my shoulder as we joined them in the cafeteria. “She just moved here from Canada and she’s going to sit with us from now on. Okay?” She spoke in English. I had already figured out that all the kids at my school spoke English outside of class. Thank God for small favours!

“Um, hi.” I smiled, hoping to look friendly … but not overly friendly like I was trying too hard. One thing I learned from my old high school is that nobody likes a desperato.

The three girls looked up from their cellphones, waved hello, and made room for us at the table. There was Ronit, a short girl with curly brown hair who seemed kind of shy. I wasn’t sure if I liked her or not. Even though she didn’t say much, I got a creepy feeling from her, like she was judging me or something.

And there was Yael, who I did like right away. She was bubbly and cute and always seemed to be smiling with her dimples and gap-toothed grin.

And there was Noa with the smoky grey eyes. She was curvaceous, beautiful, and radiated confidence. I could tell right away that she was the kind of girl other girls watched and tried to copy.

For the entire first week, they were the only kids in school who spoke to me. The five of us sat together every day for lunch. On the rare rainy day we stayed in the cafeteria, but most of the time we would take our food outside and sit under the shade of the giant olive tree and talk.

Well actually, they would talk and I would listen.

Holy cow! The kids in Israel might look and dress the same as the kids back home, but they sure didn’t act the same. Yeah, they were interested in dating and clothes and movies, but the things that really got them excited were politics, social matters, world affairs, and religion. They were so ultra-intense it was almost frightening.

Every day there were heated discussions and sometimes even arguments. And it wasn’t just Marla and her friends. Walking down the hallway was like elbowing your way through a debate club meeting.

Right wing … left wing … conservative … liberal … moderate … Orthodox … reform. Everybody, and I mean everybody here had an opinion about something. Everybody, that is, except me.

I watched and listened, but I honestly didn’t know what to think. One side would say something and it would make sense, but then the other side always had some good points and, in the end, I was just confused. They all wanted to know where I stood, but I’d never even considered most of this stuff before.

Back in Canada, I used to catch the occasional news story and sometimes even Larry King when I was flipping channels on TV. I had been vaguely aware of what was going on, but to tell you the truth, the troubles of the world had just been like background noise. Sure, it looked bad when I took the time to watch, but it was almost always happening on the other side of the globe. Now it was here in my own backyard … and I was quickly learning that staying neutral was not an option.

I confided my feelings to Marla on the way home from school one day.

“It’s like it’s a crime not to have an opinion around here!” I complained.

“Yeah, well, that’s the way it is in this country. I was the same as you when I first moved to Israel.”

“Really?” That surprised me. She seemed so out-spoken and sure of herself.

“Absolutely. It’s like, why concern yourself with the problems of the world when your life is so far removed from it, right? But here in Israel, you’re in the middle of it all. You’re involved because of your address, whether you like it or not.”

“I don’t know,” I mumbled. “I guess I’m just not an in-your-face kind of person.”

She smiled and patted me on the shoulder. “That won’t last long here. It’s good to have your own opinions. You can’t always let other people tell you what to think.”

We walked in silence for a minute.

“Anyway, I wouldn’t worry about changing right away,” she added, her voice a sing-song of secrets.

“Why not?”

“Well, for now, what you’re doing seems to be working for you in the guy department.”

“What do you mean?” I stopped walking and grabbed her arm. “What guy department?”

“I mean,” she explained, turning to me with a funny little smirk, “that from what I hear, the guys at school are fascinated by you. They all want to know why you don’t talk.”

I couldn’t believe my ears!

“I don’t talk because I don’t know what to say!” I said defensively.

“Maybe so, but they think you’re hiding a deep secret or something. You’re getting a reputation around school as, I think the words I heard were, ‘some kind of mysterious, exotic beauty.’”

“What? Me? Exotic? A beauty?” I almost choked on the words.

“Yes you!” she laughed. “Is that so hard to believe? Haven’t you noticed guys staring at you?”

“Yeah … but … but I thought it was because they thought I was a geek.”

“Well, Mack, think again! You’re a really pretty girl — don’t you realize that?”

I didn’t. So I have to admit, I was very flattered to be thought of as exotic. Back in Toronto I had always felt like such a plain Jane.

Later that night I stared at myself in the mirror for a long time, examining my features. Was I pretty? Had I changed at all since the move? It was hard to tell.

I wondered about the boys at school and which ones had noticed me. The short guy who was always asking to borrow my pencil in math class? The cute one with the baseball cap whose locker was right next to mine? The one with the glasses who’d smiled at me on my way into the cafeteria earlier that day?

After a while I stopped trying to figure it out and went to bed. Because in the end, it didn’t really matter. There was only one boy I wanted to impress.