Something in the Way (Something in the Way #1)(42)

Manning followed Gary to the front of the room, and I sat next to Tiffany. “This is so dumb,” she said, pouting. “I don’t even want to go.”

“You said you did.”

“If Manning’s going, I want to. Obviously. A whole week away from Mom and Dad with him would be massive.”

My entire plan dissolved before my eyes. “That’s not really what camp is about,” I told her. “Most of the time, you’ll be so busy with kids, you won’t have time for anything else. And like you said, it’s dirty.”

“They have showers, right?”

“Um, yeah. There are kids there. Personal hygiene is important.”

“Well . . . I guess I don’t really have any big plans that week.” She flipped her hair over her shoulder and looked around the room. “I think I recognize some of these people.”

“Almost all of them go to our high school,” I said. “Some of them were in your class.”

“Oh. What about hair dryers?”

“No.”

“Makeup?”

“You’ll just want to wear a lot of sunscreen.”

“I didn’t even think about that,” she said. “I bet I’ll get a killer tan being outside eight hours a day.” She grabbed my hand. “Come on. Let’s go tell that guy I’ll do it.”

I didn’t have time to agree or protest. She pulled me up to the front. The year before, I’d asked Tiffany to come. She was fun, and I thought it might be good for her to be around kids. But now? All I could see was what I’d be missing. I wanted Tiffany to be happy, to find some direction. I just wished I could have Manning to myself again, like I had when we’d first met.





13





Lake





I hoisted my overnight bag out of the trunk. With only two weeks left of summer, Dad had insisted I bring four books along for the week I’d be at camp, but he wasn’t the one who had to carry them. Tiffany had no books—and somehow, more luggage than me, even though I’d tried to explain there’d be no occasion for a purse, let alone three.

Tiffany yanked her rolling suitcase from the car until it fell onto the street. “It’s too early to be lifting heavy things.”

“We’ll be up almost this early every day of camp,” I said.

“Are you serious? It’s practically dark.”

“It’ll be good for you girls,” Mom said. “I’m so glad you’re doing this together. Who knows? Maybe Tiffany will find that she—” She stopped and craned her neck, looking across the parking lot. “Is that Manning?”

“No,” Tiffany said, but she couldn’t hide her smile.

I followed Mom’s gaze and took in a small breath. Manning stood next to a black truck, a big, army-green duffel bag slung over one shoulder, the sleeves of his heather-gray hoodie pushed up to his elbows. Gary got out of the driver’s seat. Together, they walked over to the curb where kids and adults were congregating.

“You told your father he wouldn’t be here.”

Tiffany shrugged. “Manning must’ve changed his mind.”

“Damn it, Tiffany. What am I supposed to do? Keep this from him?”

“It’s not a big deal, but he’ll make it into one.”

They argued, and Manning looked over. I finally exhaled as our eyes met. He said something to Gary, dropped his things on the ground, and walked toward us. Even the gray clouds cast overhead couldn’t soften the angles of his face or the purpose in his gait. “That looks about twice your weight,” Manning said, reaching for my bag.

I readjusted it on my shoulder. “I’ve got it. Tiffany’s the one who needs help.”

“You’re leaning so far to the right, I’m afraid you’ll fall over.” He gestured impatiently, so I transferred the bag over to him, and he put it under his arm.

“Don’t you trust me?” Tiffany asked Mom.

“When have you ever given us reason to?” Mom replied.

“Excuse me,” Manning said.

They turned to him. “I’m sorry, Manning,” Mom said. “This might sound like it’s about you, but it’s really about—”

“It’s fine, Mrs. Kaplan. I just wanted to say that I take this position seriously. There are kids around. I’ll be on my best behavior. Also, we need all the counselors so we can start checking campers in.”

“I appreciate that.” Mom ran a hand over her hairline, smoothing some stray pieces back in place. “Tiffany’ll be over in a moment. I just need to make a few things clear.”

Manning signaled toward the grass with his head. I followed him over, staying quiet so he wouldn’t hear the giddiness in my voice. Not only had he not taken Tiffany’s bag, but he was going to be on his best behavior. No hugging, no kissing, no time alone with Tiffany. I trusted him to keep his word, unlike Tiffany. Mom would make things clear, but her lectures were harmless. Tiffany knew, had known coming here, that Mom would never rat her out to Dad.

When the buses pulled up, Manning raised his eyebrows. “They don’t spare any expense, do they?”

They wheezed as they rocked up over the inclined driveway into the parking lot. They were luxury liners, the kinds of buses that were always too hot or too cold with fabric seats that made you wonder who’d sat in them before you. “What do you mean?”