"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 do."
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 scratched his chin. "Your dad says? What's it to him?"
That answer was easy. "Everything."
"I see. So he wants you to do something big."
"Pretty much."
"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 nodded 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."
Manning and Tiffany rose into the night sky together. Neither of them looked back at me.
5
Manning
If someone'd asked me a week ago what a typical Saturday night looked like for me, it wouldn't've involved any of this. A Ferris wheel, pink cotton candy, and a pair of girls, one of which was only sixteen.
The wheel churned forward and stopped a few times. Tiffany tore off some cotton candy and put it in her mouth. I didn't know what I should expect during twenty minutes alone with her, but she'd become shyer without an audience.
"I don't know what my sister told you, but I'm not stupid," she said gently. "I can get a job, but nothing's really interested me so far."
"She didn't say that."
"She's annoying. Sometimes she doesn't even do anything and she still annoys me."
It wasn't a word I'd use to describe Lake, who was relatively quiet compared to Tiffany. "How come?"
"It's like she thinks she's better than me. Just the way she talks or the things she does."
"Yeah but what?" I asked. "What does she do?"
"She just, like, gets straight A's and it's all my parents can talk about for a month. It's lame. If I'd really wanted to be a nerd, I could've been, you know? I'd rather enjoy my life."
I looked Tiffany over. That might've been true to some degree, but I didn't buy all of it. "You don't think your sister enjoys life?"
"Everything she does has a purpose. She only takes piano lessons to be ‘well-rounded.' And so she doesn't disappoint my dad like I have."
Up until this moment, I'd only really seen Lake as smart, driven, and curious. Maybe because I'd only really seen Lake. I hadn't stopped to wonder how many dinners Tiffany must've sat through hearing about Lake's accomplishments. "I'm sure that's not true."
"It is." She shuffled her feet on the floor of the car. "Whatever."
The wheel jerked into motion, sending us higher. "I think Lake looks up to you," I said.
"Why would she?"
"You're her older sister." If I'd been better at expressing myself, I would've told her how much it bothered me to see siblings not getting along. But that wasn't something you thought about until you'd lost one, and then it was too late for that kind of lesson. "Cut her some slack. She probably just wants you to be nice to her."
Tiffany scowled. "Nice?"
"Yeah. Like inviting her to come here. That was nice."
Her expression eased as she twisted her lips. "I see. Okay. Maybe."
A girl in the car above us laughed loudly at something the man with her said. She launched forward to kiss him. Tiffany noticed and smiled.
I preferred Tiffany this way, without all the drama. It made me uncomfortable when she was forward, the way she'd been in the car on the way over. I wasn't sure how I felt about her. With long blonde hair and even longer legs, and blue eyes a shade icier than her sister's, she was attractive as hell. I just wasn't all that attracted to her. Her attitude'd put me off that first day.
I should've probably walked away. I would've by now if I hadn't felt so confused the past few days, and since I'd really only existed since Maddy's death, nothing more, feeling anything was a welcome change. Losing my little sister had brought on the kind of darkness you don't ever really come back from. Even day to day, there wasn't much to my life. I went to work. Construction was good for me, it kept my hands busy, but it was hard. The men I worked with had seen shit, too. Some of them were ex-convicts, and others probably should've been behind bars-I'd almost gotten into it with some of them on Friday when I'd warned them not to catcall the girls. Then, I either spent my nights at the community college with other overworked, tired classmates, at a bar drinking by myself, or at home. I preferred it that way, I guess. I wanted to focus on graduating so I could be in a position to help others the way they'd helped me when I'd needed it, even though I hadn't deserved it.