My mouth wouldn't open. It was too weird to say out loud. I'm in love with a man my sister calls her boyfriend. If you hadn't lived the story like I had, it sounded awful. Val was as open-minded as anyone I knew, and even this was asking for a lot of understanding.
"Is it about a boy?" she asked.
"How'd you know?"
"It's always about a boy. Corbin?"
"No."
"So there's another boy." She tapped a light fingertip on my shoulder, studying me. "Why don't I know about him?"
I wriggled out of her grasp and went to my closet for running shoes. "Because he's not a boy."
She gasped. I could feel the delight coming off her in waves, even with my back turned. "He's older?"
"Yes."
"Older than Corbin?"
"Yes."
"I need to know more."
"I can't tell you." I sat on the edge of my bed to lace up my sneakers. "If I could, I would."
"Please. This is too juicy. Is he in college? Is he a teacher? Is it Mr. Caws?"
I made a gagging noise, then giggled. "I'm not going to tell you."
"I'll tell you all my secrets." She leaned back against my dresser. "Hmm. In sixth grade, I peed my pants at my desk and didn't tell anyone so the next person sat in it."
"Oh my God, how disgusting."
"I know." She laughed. "All right, here's a good one. It's not funny, though. I wasn't completely honest with you about the first guy I slept with at my old high school. I told you it was no big deal, but I actually really liked him."
"You said it was with a stranger."
"I was embarrassed. He stopped talking to me after and rumors spread."
Once in a while, Val reminded me of Tiffany. Mostly tough, but their weak spots were arguably more sensitive than other people's. Val also had issues about her dad, who'd left her mom when Val was entering high school. "I'm sorry."
She shrugged. "It's fine. It taught me some things about men."
"Like what?"
"Mostly that they're immature . . . which is why I'm excited about this older guy."
"It's not . . . we're not, like, together or anything."
"You have a crush. Who doesn't? Is it the good kind of crush? Like one you want to act on or one you don't? There's a difference."
"Definitely the first one."
She went over to my closet. "Well, you never dress sexy at school-your closet is sad-but I guess that's because he already graduated, huh?"
"How can a closet be sad?"
"Do you have anything red?"
"I don't think so. Maybe a sports bra. How come?"
"Hmm. Red makes men horny. It's, like, biology. Plus, it looks great on blondes." She held out a knee-length, maroon corduroy skirt. "This is kind of red, but it's also . . . hideous."
"It's from middle school. I meant to take it to Goodwill, but-"
"Perfect." She held it up to her waist. "Cut it and wear it next time you see him."
"Really?"
"Yeah. With a pair of Mary Janes or clogs or something, you'll be all legs. He'll forget his own name."
I took the skirt, examining the button-down front and plummy color. It never would've occurred to me to do anything other than donate it. "Okay. Thanks. Anything else?"
"Nope. Just be yourself."
I rolled my eyes. "Yeah, okay."
"What? I'm serious. You're smart and beautiful. You hold all the power-haven't you ever watched your sister?"
My mood dimmed. Val had only been around Tiffany a few times, but I guessed that was all it took to see her charm. I wasn't really in the habit of emulating her-if anything, I was genetically predisposed to do the opposite of whatever she did-but in this case, I could see Val's reasoning. Tiffany had spent the last year getting to know Manning while I'd stayed here, getting further away from him.
Val picked up her backpack. "I have to go record Wings for my mom or she'll flip. When are you seeing this guy next?"
I turned away so I wouldn't have to lie to her face. "Not sure. I'll let you know."
"'K. Later."
As Val's Beetle rumbled down the street, I picked up Birdy and held her to my chest. I could almost convince myself I smelled campfire in the woods, sweat and sawdust on Manning's skin, lingering smoke on his clothes. As comforting as Birdy was, she would never be the real thing, and in just a few hours, that's what I'd have. Manning-big, strong, and real, right in front of me.
8
Manning
Back against the wall, cigarette in hand, I watched the parking lot for Tiffany's car. I'd stood like this lots of times on the other side of these walls, but today I didn't see any orange jumpsuits, fried grass, or cracked concrete slabs. Just freedom.