Something in the Way(50)

If I hadn't been so concerned about Manning, I might've fainted with  shock. Somehow, at some point, Tiffany had been struck with an ounce of  patience. Though it made me happy to see her try, I needed her to focus.  "Tiff? What'd he say?"

Tiffany capped the lipstick, sat on the ground, and put it in the mesh pocket of her luggage. "Who?"

"Manning."

She blinked up to me. For the way she'd just screeched at Iris, her  voice was eerily even. "He's in trouble because he left camp last  night."

I scratched my elbow. I shouldn't feel guilty about lying. How many  times had Tiffany lied to me or omitted information to get her way? "Do  you know why?" I asked.

"Don't you? You talked to him."

My palms sweat. I didn't know what she was talking about. "When?"

"This morning. You were the one who told me to go to his cabin. Didn't he tell you all this?"

"No. He said it was . . . adult business."

Tiffany arched an eyebrow and laughed. "You're an adult, aren't you? You've been trying to act like one lately. To be like me."

My face reddened. "What do you mean?"

She looked away. "Manning doesn't think it's a big deal, whatever the  police want. But he wasn't sure how long they'd keep him, so he might  need me to come pick him up later."

"That's a long drive to get back here."

"Who else is going to do it? You? His family? He wants me there." She  sat on her overstuffed suitcase and tried to pull the zipper closed.  "All I know is it has to do with something that happened last night. He  wouldn't tell me more."

I knew it. Either he'd lied by saying it didn't involve me, or there was  something else going on. Manning wanted to protect me, he'd made that  clear since we'd met, but at what point was he making things worse? I  didn't exactly feel safe with him in custody, unable to talk me through  our next move.

"Can I come with you to pick him up?" I asked.

Tiffany yanked on the zipper so hard, her fingers slipped, and she flew  backward. "Fuck." She shook out her hand. "God, that hurt. And I broke a  goddamn nail."

"Tiff?"

"I'm so sick of this place," she said. "It's dirty and loud. I only came for him, and now he's . . ."

"What?" I asked, every hair on my body prickling.

"Never mind-"

"What else did he say?"

"Nothing, I already told you."

"But if there's anything else, anything-I need to know."

"What do you want from me, Lake?" she said, pounding her fist on the  suitcase. Surprised, I stepped back. "I have no idea what's going on. He  wouldn't tell me shit. I don't know what to do or if I should do  anything or just . . ."

Her body shook with the threat of a sob. I was so shocked by her tears  that I got on the floor next to her. She rarely cried if it wasn't to  get something out of my dad. I pulled her hands from her face to put my  arms around her. "It's okay."

She pulled away. "Don't."

"Why?"

She narrowed her eyes on me. "You're the reason we're in this mess."

It seemed to me Tiffany and Manning were adult enough to decide whether  or not they wanted to be here, but when had Tiffany ever taken  responsibility for her decisions? "Whatever, Tiffany. I came here to  check on you and Manning, not fight."                       
       
           



       

"What if he gets in real trouble?" she asked. "How will you feel then?"

"He won't."

"How do you know?" she asked.

"Innocent people don't go to jail."

She looked at me hard. "What if he's not innocent?"

"He is," Gary said from the doorway. "Manning's a good guy. Whatever happened, I'm sure it was just a misunderstanding."

"Take us to the station, Gary," I said. "Please."

"I can't. Not only would it not help, but Manning specifically asked me to keep you two out of it."

"But I'm his girlfriend," Tiffany said.

"He's trying to protect you." He sniffed at us, his eyes roaming over  our faces. We must've looked as bad as we felt, because he conceded, but  not without an eye-roll. "If it'll make you feel better, I'll come back  as soon as I can and check things out. Once everything at home is  sorted, I'll drive back up here on my own and make sure Manning's all  right."

It wasn't exactly what I wanted, but I could see it was all we were  going to get. It was better than Manning being alone. "Thanks," we said.

"But I have one condition-relax. You girls are too young to worry about  this sort of stuff. Actually, I have two conditions. Pack up your shit  and get over to the buses now." With a poor attempt at an angry-face, he  turned and walked off.

Tiffany looked exhausted. I could tell she was thinking about leaving  her stuff behind just so she could stop packing. Considering there were  designer purses in there, she must've been desperate.

"I'll sit on the bag, and you zip," I said. "I'm heavier than you." I  might've been, if I'd had the boobs and butt she did, but it was exactly  what she needed to hear. She inhaled a breath and stood so I could take  her place. After wrestling with the zipper, she got the bag closed. Her  face and eyes were red, her hairline sticky with sweat. I couldn't help  wondering what'd happened just now, before Gary'd interrupted us.  Tiffany was clearly distraught. Was it possible she actually cared about  Manning?

With that realization, a new fear settled over me. Not for Manning or  even myself. If Tiffany found out I'd snuck off with her boyfriend,  she'd be furious. Embarrassed. Hurt. What I'd done, I'd done without  considering how it might affect my own sister. It'd been easy to  convince myself it wouldn't matter to her because she didn't have real  feelings for Manning. But did she?

"I'm sorry this week was so bad," I said sincerely. "I'll go to the mall with you when we get home and buy you something."

She wiped her nose. "With what?"

"I have some allowance saved. Probably more than you."

She turned around and climbed onto her bed to remove pictures of her and  her friends she'd taped to the wall. "You know I can have almost  anyone. Manning's lucky I'm still around."

I wasn't sure where that was coming from, but there was only one way to  answer that if I wanted to get out of here alive. "I know." I waited for  her to continue, but she just picked tape off the corners of the  photographs. "Did something happen with him?" I asked.

"I don't know."

"Are you thinking of breaking up with him?"

"Maybe."

So many things ran through my mind at once. If they broke up, Manning  would be out of her life. But would he then be out of mine, too? No. He  and I had to find a way. We knew it'd come to this. It wasn't as if I'd  expected her to stay with Manning for two whole years until I turned  eighteen.

"We'll see how it goes if I pick him up," she said.

I didn't know which way to encourage her. It was a very real possibility  that without Tiffany, Manning and I would be separated until I turned  eighteen. That was two excruciating years away from him. But the thought  of them together felt like having a piece of glass lodged in my chest-I  couldn't go very long without being reminded it was there.

Manning and I needed Tiffany, but at the same time, there was no denying-she was also something in the way.





25





Lake





By Tuesday morning, three long days since they'd taken Manning away, I  could no longer handle doing nothing. This time next week, I'd be back  in school, even more helpless than I already was.

I went through the bathroom, knocked on Tiffany's door, and entered.

"Rude much?" she asked. Tiffany lay on her stomach, reading  Cosmopolitan, blowing on her nails. A bottle of purple polish sat  precariously on her white comforter. "I could've been naked."                       
       
           



       

"I've seen you naked."

"What do you want?"

Tiffany's room was the personification of a rundown childhood. In  elementary school, Mom had redecorated it with white wicker furniture,  ruffled bedding, and pastel walls. She'd helped Tiffany and I paint  tulips along the bottom. But as Tiffany had gotten older, she'd tacked  concert posters around her bed. Paint chipped off the wicker desk where  she'd thrown her phone at it. She'd glued pictures of celebrities to her  vanity mirror. One tulip head had been covered with a glittery sticker  that said "Goddess" and another with Daria's face. Her shoe collection  had overflown from the closet, floral Doc Martens sprouting from her  plush, white carpet.