Something in the Way (Something in the Way #1)(14)

“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?”

“No.”

“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.”