part0072

T iffany thought she had the better room between us and didn’t often let me forget it. That’s because she didn’t know what she was missing. My window opened to a flat part of the first floor’s roof. Saturday night, I crawled through, sat, and pulled my knees up to my chest to wait.

Already, Tiffany was breaking the rules. She’d told Dad we were getting a ride with her friend Sarah instead of Manning, who was on his way to pick us up. I didn’t like lying to my dad, but to spend time with Manning, I was willing to do it.

I set my chin on my knee. I’d been ready for hours, not that getting ready meant the same to me as it did to Tiffany. I’d put on shorts and Converse before running a brush through my hair. My fitted, pink-and-purple paisley tee came from Wet Seal. I never shopped there, but it was a hand-me-down from Tiffany. She’d been in our bathroom for an hour doing her hair and makeup, but that wasn’t unusual.

I’d been to Balboa Park lots growing up. It was a small amusement park on the water. It’d never sounded romantic until now. It was known for its Ferris wheel, games, and chocolate-covered ice cream bars with sprinkles. There were always young couples holding hands and making out. I’d always thought that was gross, two people French kissing against a wall where others could see. I wouldn’t have minded holding Manning’s hand, though.

Headlights appeared at the corner as a white truck pulled up outside. I got off the roof to knock on the bathroom separating Tiffany’s room from mine.

“What?” she asked.

I opened my door and leaned in. “I think he’s here.”

Her hair was coiled around a curling iron. The drawer between our sinks had been pulled all the way open, sagging as if it were about to fall out. It held countless lipsticks, all kinds of eye makeup, bobby pins, compacts, and more. Up until recently, the only interest I’d had in that drawer was the urge to organize it. I’d never wanted to play with makeup like Mom and Tiffany. They knew just how to apply lipstick, dab perfume, shop designer, balance in high heels. All that made their beauty rituals more intimidating than exciting.

Tiff looked at me in the reflection of the mirror. “Go tell him I’ll be right down.”

“What if Dad says something?”

“Like what?” she asked. “Just lie.”

He might stop me on my way out and ask if Sarah was out front. Or want to make sure she wasn’t drinking—he’d done that with Tiffany’s friends before. Then what? I’d omitted the truth so I could go tonight, but I wasn’t sure I could lie to his face. If I got caught scheming with Tiffany, I’d be grounded for good. Then again, these next few minutes might be the only time I got alone with Manning tonight.

I went downstairs. The foyer fed into the living room, where my parents sat on the couch watching some action movie. Their backs were to the windows overlooking the front yard. I tiptoed past.

“Lake?” Mom called, looking over.

“We’re leaving for the fair,” I blurted.

I couldn’t see my dad from where I stood. “Where’s Tiffany?” he asked.

“Finishing her makeup.”

“What’s Lake wearing?” I heard Dad ask.

Mom playfully rolled her eyes at me. “Shorts and sneakers, Charlie. Hardly party attire.”

She turned forward again. Every second I stood here was less time talking to Manning, but if I sounded too eager to leave, Dad might suspect something. The clock in the entryway ticked. A car exploded on the TV screen.

“Fine,” Dad said. “Home by ten, all right?”

I was relieved, but not off the hook until we were driving away. “Okay,” I said on my way out the door.

The truck was parked at the curb of the lot next to ours, the construction site. It looked like an older model, but it was clean. A large, shadowy figure leaned against the driver’s side.

I smelled smoke before I saw the cigarette. “Manning?”

He turned his head but didn’t speak.

I pushed some hair off my face. I should’ve brushed it one last time. Because it was long, it got tangled easily. “Tiffany will be ready soon.”

He took a long drag of his cigarette. The little orange tip flared before he dropped the butt on the street and stamped it out. “Come over here.”

I went to stand next to him. The glare of my parents’ TV flashed in the window. I still worried they’d look out and see me standing with Manning, but not so much that I wasn’t going to do it. “Is this your car?” I asked.

“Yeah.” He put his hands in his pockets. “Sorry about the smoke.”

I shrugged. “I don’t care.”

“You should. It’s bad for you. Anyone offers you one, say no. All it takes is that first time, and you’re hooked. For life. Got it?”

I nodded as if I hadn’t been told so a thousand times by teachers, parents, PSAs on TV. I knew I’d never try it, but that didn’t stop me from being curious. “I’ll say no,” I promised.

“Good. Did you finish the book?”

“I had to if I wanted to come tonight.”

“Yeah? How was it?”

“Depressing. I probably should’ve watched the movie.”

“But you pushed through? Just to go ride a Ferris wheel?”

To spend an evening with you , I wanted to say. I didn’t have the guts. “No. I don’t go on the Ferris wheel.”

Something like that, you could fall off at any time, I was sure. It probably happened all the time. I didn’t want to admit I was scared, though. “I get sick.”

“You throw up?” he asked.

I nudged the curb with the toe of my sneaker. The ashes of his cigarette were like silver confetti on the concrete. Big, dark Manning would’ve blended right in with the night if not for his bleach-white t-shirt.

“If you’re scared, it’s okay to admit it.”

Tiffany had snuck me onto a pendulum ride at a carnival when I was little and I’d peed my pants, terrified. My Dad had spanked her and we’d gone home early. “I don’t think scared is the right word . . . I just don’t trust it.”

He checked his watch. “What’s your curfew?”

“How do you know I have one?”

He raised his eyes to mine. “You don’t?”

I wished I didn’t. Not that I planned to stay out all night with my sister and him, but it bothered me that Manning might think I was childish. “Ten,” I said.

“Your parents know I’m taking you guys?”

With a grunt, he tilted his head toward the sky, but quickly looked back at the house. Sawdust and cigarette smoke lingered in the air, but standing close to him, I mostly smelled men’s deodorant and soap.

“How about the bumper cars?” he asked.

“Are you afraid of a little turbulence?”

Tiffany came outside. In the porch light, her blonde hair yellowed. Her denim shorts were a few inches shorter than mine, her ponytail and hoop earrings swinging. For all the time and effort it took her to get ready, she looked breezy. Confident.

Manning kept his eyes on the pavement as she approached.

“Why’re you guys standing in the dark?” She was chewing gum. “Hi, Manning.”

“Hey.” He pushed off the side of the car, rounding the hood to open the passenger’s side door. “Should we get going?”

Tiffany and I followed. There was no backseat in the truck, just one long bench. I didn’t even have a limb inside when Tiffany cut in to climb between Manning and me. Considering his size, I wasn’t even sure all three of us would fit, but that didn’t turn out to be a problem. Tiffany slid as close to Manning as she could get without sitting in his lap. “Oh, I want to make one stop,” Tiffany said when he started the car.

He sat back and looked over at her. “Where?”

“There’s this party—”

“We’re not going to a party,” he said.

“But Lake’s never been to one.” She looked over her shoulder at me. “It’s huge. I bet even your loser friends will be there.”

Mona and Vickie actually looked up to Tiffany. There was no reason to call them losers except that they were my friends, not hers. “Dad specifically told us not to,” I reminded her.

“Five minutes. I just want you to see what it’s like.”

Manning pulled away from the curb. “She doesn’t want to.”

“But she will. Soon. And it’s better if she goes with me her first time rather than her friends.” She pointed to an upcoming stop sign. “Take a right here. It’s on the way.”

Manning stuck his elbow on the window ledge and steered with one hand. Tiffany’s knee knocked against Manning’s every time the truck bounced. She murmured directions to him. With each turn, envy grew in me, unwelcome and unfamiliar. I couldn’t stop watching their legs. What would it feel like, to have Manning’s jeans scrape against my bare outer thigh? The hair on my legs prickled to life. I should’ve shaved all the way up my leg. I didn’t always, since the hair on my thighs was fine and blonde. But Tiffany’s smooth, tan skin made me realize mine was white and furry. I angled my offensive legs toward the car door, away from the cozy couple.

“I can’t shift,” Manning said.

“Oops.” Tiffany peeled her shoulder from his, but her knee stayed put.

Manning kept a strong grip on the steering wheel. His forearms were all dark, thick hair and corded veins, his skin brown from working in the sun.

“Turn here, on Marigold,” Tiffany said. “See?”

Parked cars lined the curb all the way up and down both sides of the block. People loitered on a lawn in an otherwise quiet neighborhood. Tiffany said my friends might be here, but what if they weren’t? What if Tiffany ditched me as we walked in the door? I’d never been to a party for reasons that had nothing to do with my strict dad—I had no desire to get drunk and stupid. It was dumb how Tiffany and her friends wore hangovers like gold medals. But that didn’t mean I wanted to stand alone in a corner drinking water.

Manning pulled in front of the driveway and put the car in park, looking past both of us into the party. A group of seniors stood by the mailbox with red cups in their hands.

I looked back at my sister. I didn’t want to go in. Even though everyone there would know Tiffany, they wouldn’t know me. They’d try to get me to drink. I’d be embarrassed in front of my classmates, in front of Manning.

A varsity water polo player leaned over and puked in the street, ten feet from the truck. His teammate picked up a cheerleader by her waist. She squealed and squirmed as he threatened to drop her in it.

Manning watched it all and finally said, “We’re not going in there.”

“Why not?” Tiffany asked, sounding genuinely confused.

He shifted out of park.

Tiffany grabbed his arm. “Lake needs this. She can’t study in her bedroom her whole life.”

“Let go of my arm.”

Tiffany pulled back. “But—”

“If you want to go inside so bad, I won’t stop you. Your sister and I will go to the fair. How’s that sound, Lake?”

“I don’t care about some lame high school party,” Tiffany said defensively. “I’m doing this for her.”

He drove away. “You don’t know what your sister wants.”

Manning was right. Either Tiffany didn’t know or care what I wanted. But he did.

Tiffany glared at Manning. I braced for an explosion. She didn’t respond well to being told no. It didn’t happen often, not since our father had learned she’d fight him tooth and nail to get what she wanted, and if she lost, find a way to do it anyway.

She sulked, but she stayed quiet. I almost couldn’t believe it. Since when did she give in so easily? Wasn’t she going to wear Manning down until he agreed to go back to the party?

Gently, she touched Manning’s bicep. “Are you mad?”

After a few tense seconds, Manning shook his head. “We can have fun without all that,” he said.

She relaxed against the back of the seat. We rode in relative silence the rest of the way, except for the low din of the radio. Manning turned it up slightly for one song. When it ended and the DJ said the name, I committed “Black” by Pearl Jam to memory.

Manning parked, and we walked across the street toward the entrance. The Fun Zone at Balboa Park was one long strip with an arcade, bumper cars, and the biggest draw—for some people—a Ferris wheel.

Tiffany stopped at the first carnival game we walked by and clasped both hands around Manning’s bicep, her fingers barely touching. “Win me a stuffed animal,” she pleaded. “I know you can.”

I responded before Manning could. “I thought you said stuffed toys were childish?”

Tiffany turned to me with a slight sneer. “Not when your boyfriend wins it for you. Come talk to me when you have one of those .”

The insult was so ridiculous, I couldn’t stop myself from laughing. “He’s not your boyfriend,” I said, glancing at Manning. “Just to warn you, sometimes you have to repeat yourself with Tiffany. She doesn’t always get it.”

Tiffany’s face paled. She’d certainly said worse to me in front of my friends, but as soon as the words were out, I regretted them. She wasn’t dumb, but Dad treated her that way sometimes.

“It’s so typical of you to act like you’re better than everyone,” Tiffany said, looking like she was about to lunge for me.

I didn’t think that about myself. Tiffany was the one who did what she wanted, breaking rules and hurting people but still getting everything handed to her. “I do not.”

“Do to. I did you a favor bringing you along tonight—”

“Hey.” Manning put his hands on her shoulders, drawing her backward. “Take a minute. Both of you.”

Tiffany balked. “She’s implying that I’m an idiot.”

He turned Tiffany around to face him. “So what?” he asked. “Is it true?”

“Then who cares?”

I just stood there while they looked at each other, having some kind of moment.

“Yeah,” she said finally, looking over her shoulder at me. “Who cares what you think?”

Manning sighed and ran his hand down his face. “Why don’t you go get us some ice cream, Tiffany? Give each other a second to cool off.”

“Ice cream?” she asked.

He arched an eyebrow. “You went on and on about it when you invited me.”

She took a step back and sniffed. “Oh. Okay. Will you come with me?”

He glanced briefly at me and back. “No. You can take care of yourself.”

Even with Tiffany’s back to me, I could sense her disappointment. If Manning kept telling her no , it could be good for her. Either she’d learn she couldn’t always get her way or she’d get bored and move on.

Tiffany left in pursuit of something sweet.

Once alone, Manning turned his full attention on me, putting us face to face.

“You’re good with her,” I said, looking up at him.

“Normally, she does the opposite of what people tell her.”

Manning ran a hand through his hair, left it sticking up. I could see him better now in the bright, colorful, blinking lights of the fair. He’d rolled up the sleeves of his white t-shirt, the cuffs hugging his muscles. He had a cigarette behind his ear again, stark against his soft black hair. He could’ve walked straight out of The Outsiders , which I only knew because it’d been on last summer’s reading list.

“She does it on purpose.” I was beginning to notice how Manning’s voice, always deep, seemed to get even lower when he was about to lecture me or impart wisdom. “Don’t let her goad you on. You’re young, and you’re better than what you just said to her. Aren’t you?”

I suddenly felt half my size. Although my dad was demanding, I didn’t often get scolded. Not like Tiffany. I was the good kid. “What does being young have to do with it?” I asked. “I don’t need a babysitter.”

“Your sister’s different from you. She’s impulsive. She says what pops into her head, but you think things through. I see you. I see you thinking.”

I had no idea what to make of Manning. He was hot and cold. Sometimes, I thought there was something between us, but then he went and treated me like a five-year-old. “Why do you care what I do?” I asked.

He laid a heavy hand on my shoulder and it spanned all the way to my neck. His fingertips brushed my skin, his palm warming me. He shook me gently, my entire body swaying. “I’m not attacking you. All I’m saying is be better than that. We’re at a fair. This is supposed to be fun.”

“For who? I feel like I’m tagging along on one of Tiffany’s dates.”

Manning took his hand back and crooked one corner of his mouth. “Trust me. If this was a real date, you wouldn’t be here. She asked if I wanted to go to a carnival with you guys, and it sounded like the kind of innocent fun I haven’t had in a while.” He nodded backward. “So let’s go on a ride. How about the Ferris wheel?”

I widened my eyes. “I told you I can’t.”

“Nah. You’re scared, but I’m going to go with you. You’ll see there’s nothing to be afraid of.”

My heart raced. Not just because Manning had touched me. Not just because he was looking out for me. Mostly because no part of me wanted to get on that ride, but I was considering it just to have some time alone with him. “What about Tiffany?”

“She’ll find us.”

He strolled away. I had to hurry to keep up. Two kids darted between us, nearly knocking me over. “We can do the bumper cars,” I said. “Those are way more fun.”

He looked sidelong at me. “What scares you about the wheel?” he asked. “You don’t like heights?”

It wasn’t that. I sat on the roof all the time. So what was holding me back? I glanced at the ground as we walked. “I don’t know. What if something happens up there and you can’t get out? How do you know it won’t break down or the seat won’t fall off?”

“You just have to trust it.”

“Trust what?” I asked, pointing to the operator. “That guy looks like he’s in high school. How can he be in charge of lives?”

Manning laughed. “I think I understand the issue.”

I furrowed my brows. “What issue?”

“You don’t like to feel out of control. I’m the same, but you have to know when to let go or you’ll drive yourself crazy.”

Sometimes, Tiffany called Dad a control freak. Nobody had ever referred to me that way, though. I was diligent about my schoolwork and when it came to my future. Did that mean I needed to be in control? I wasn’t sure.

We stopped at the ticket booth. Manning leaned into the window and said, “Two adults.” He looked back at me. “You are an adult, right?”

I frowned. “I don’t know—”

“Fourteen and over,” said the ticket taker.

He handed her a ten. “Then two adults.”

“I mean, I don’t know if I can do it,” I said. “I don’t want you to spend the money if—”

“Don’t worry about the money. But try to look younger next time. Save me a few bucks.”

Because his brows weren’t as low and heavy as usual, I was pretty sure he was teasing me. He didn’t do it often enough for me to know.

As we got in line, I tilted my head back to take in the behemoth of a ride—the creaks of the machinery, the gum-chewing, spaced-out attendant, the kids tilting their car in the sky to see how far forward they could make it swing. Adults just stood around, smiling at them. You had to be a certain height to ride. Manning was probably twice that. Unfortunately, I came in with plenty of room, too.

If I was going to get on this thing, I had to distract myself. Already, my stomach felt uneasy. There were a lot of people out tonight, waiting in line for corndogs, getting quarters for the arcade games, spinning postcard stands outside a souvenir shop. “What would you normally be doing tonight?” I asked Manning.

“Some nights I have class. Since it’s the weekend, I’d probably be at a bar.”

“Oh.” College and bars—that was a whole other world to me. “What’s your class for?”

“Criminal justice. I want to be a cop.”

Even though my mouth popped open, I hoped I didn’t look as shocked as I felt. I couldn’t picture him in uniform. “Like a police officer?” I asked.

“Yeah.” He scratched his chin. It might’ve been the first time he didn’t look at me like I was from a different planet. “Why?”

I wasn’t sure how to respond. He was mysterious. Rugged. Hard to pin down. To be honest, he seemed more like an outlaw than a peacekeeper. I didn’t want to insult him, though, so I tried to think of something else to say.

I blinked. The way he said my name brought me back to Earth. I thought I could be on a rocket to the moon and come crashing back in an instant when he called for me. “What?”

“You can tell me what you’re thinking. I don’t have a lot of friends, but the ones I do have, I like them to be honest.”

Was it dishonest not to volunteer information? People did it all the time. Tiffany’d sneak out in the middle of the night and pretend she hadn’t the next morning. Or Mom would take us shopping and hide the receipts from Dad. I looked away. Every time the Ferris wheel stopped, seats rocked.

“I’m honest.” I couldn’t think of many times in my life when I hadn’t been.

Manning tilted his head. He’d returned to looking at me like I was a science project. A very young one. “I know you are.”

“All right.” I fidgeted under his stare. “What was your question?”

“Why’d you look so surprised that I want to go into law?”

“You don’t really look like the type. I mean, physically, you definitely do.”

Almost imperceptibly, he raised one eyebrow. But it was true. He looked strong enough to take on criminals. Capable. “What other way is there?” he asked.

“Something about how you are. Inside.” When I realized I was staring him straight in the eye, I stopped. I’d forgotten, for a moment, how intimidating he was, how much his opinion was beginning to mean to me. “I’m sorry.”

“Never apologize for being honest.”

“Does that hurt your feelings?”

He laughed, and I relaxed a little. “No. It would take a lot more than that.”

“I don’t know anything,” I said. “I haven’t been around that many policemen in my life.”

“That’s a good thing.”

“Why do you want to be one?”

“Cops have a lot of power. They can abuse it, or they can make a difference in people’s lives. Not everyone has the resources to help themselves. They need someone on their side who does.”

“You want to help people?”

I felt bad if I’d implied he wasn’t the type to make a positive difference. It was obviously important to him if he planned to spend his life helping others.

“How about you? You thought about what you want to do yet?”

“A little.” I wished I knew with the same confidence he did. I studied hard to get into a good school because it was expected of me, and because top universities were bound to have students who cared about more than drinking, gossip, and sex like my sister and my friends. I just wasn’t sure what I’d do once I got there. “I’m going to college.”

“Well, that I guessed,” he said. “I bet you’ll like college. It’s different from high school. But what about after?”

“My dad says I can major in business, law, or medicine.”

He nodded at me. “Your dad says? What’s it to him?”

That answer was easy. “Everything.”

“I see. So he wants you to do something big.”

“And what do you want?”

“I guess I want to love what I do, I’m just not sure what that is yet. It doesn’t have to be for money as long as it’s worthwhile.”

Manning looked forward, squinting over everyone in line in front of us. Just when I thought he’d change the topic, he said, “That could be lots of different things. Things you never even thought of.” He scratched his chest. “How about if I get you some books from the library? You make me a list of your interests, and I’ll see what I can find.”

I smiled. If nothing else, it was a reason to see him again. “Okay.”

“Next,” the attendant said, holding his hand out for our tickets.

My stomach dropped. Manning had done a good job distracting me, but the ride loomed huge. A couple kids with windswept hair spilled out of their car, which swung back and forth long after they’d left. The ride had one seat for two people and a bar that came down. That was it. Not even seatbelts.

Manning handed the kid our tickets and climbed on the ride. He stood in the center of the carriage, hunched to keep from hitting his head on the roof. “See? It’s no big deal. It’s designed to be able to swing and move.” He gestured for me to get on. “I’ll be by your side the whole time.”

I took a step. Adrenaline jolted through me. He was going through a lot of trouble to make me feel safe. That meant he cared, didn’t it? And if he cared, he wouldn’t want me to get hurt. I repeated his words in my head: I’ll be by your side . With a shaky inhale, I wiped my palms on my shorts and walked toward the pile of metal parts that was supposed to carry me into the sky.

“Wait,” Tiffany cried. I looked back. She waved two colorful spools of cloud-like cotton candy at us. “I’m here. Wait.” She shoved one of the confections at me, pushed me out of the way, and jumped into the car with Manning. “How’s that for timing?”

I looked from her to the cotton candy. “What?” I asked.

She plopped onto the plastic bench. “The line for ice cream was too long.”

Manning looked at me. My hands began to shake with relief, but I couldn’t deny my disappointment. What could he say? What could I say? There wasn’t room for three people, and Tiffany would surely make a scene if she didn’t get her way. Some of the parents waiting for their kids looked over. “What am I supposed to do with this?” I asked.

“Eat it, silly.” Tiffany tried and failed to pull Manning onto the seat with her. “What are you doing?” she asked him. “She won’t get on. She’s afraid of heights. Come on.”

He sat and pulled the metal bar over their laps. As the wheel moved forward, hot tears pierced the backs of my eyes. Something about all of this was beginning to feel cruel and unfair, and that made me feel helpless. Maybe that was what Manning had been talking about earlier—injustice.

“You got a ticket?” the attendant asked me.

“Oh. No.” There was no way in hell I was getting on without Manning, I retreated and ran right into the person behind me. I whirled around, backing away. “Sorry. Go ahead.”