Something in the Way (Something in the Way 1)

“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?”

“I thought we’d be going on a school bus or something.”

“This is Orange County. Even camping can be made glamorous.”

“Okay then.” He looked down at me. “You’re not afraid of getting dirty, are you?”

“No way. I’ll be in the mud with the kids.”

“That’s my girl.”

I almost shivered with satisfaction. Manning’s girl—I hoped someday I would be. In his presence, my body loosened. I’d been anxious about this trip. I’d seen Manning four times in two weeks during the counselors training sessions, but between Tiffany, Gary, and everyone else, we hadn’t had more than a couple minutes alone. Did he notice? Did he care? He never gave any sign that he did, but I’d caught him staring at me during a meeting once . . . I’d tried to convince myself the longing in his face was my imagination, or that he was looking at Tiffany, who’d been next to me, but I didn’t really believe that. Some invisible tether existed between us. Nobody could see it, not even us, but I felt it. I was sure Manning did, too. As long as we both knew it, that was enough for me. For now, at least.

Manning got a clipboard from Gary and flipped through the pages. “You’re paired with Hannah Burke,” he told me. “Do you know her?”

“She’s new this year, but we talked a little at the meetings.” I pointed to a short brunette in a polo shirt and knee-length shorts. Hannah’s brown hair brushed as far down as her elbows as she gathered our girls and fielded questions from their parents. “I better get to work.”

“I’ll come with you,” Manning said, tucking the clipboard under his arm and falling into step beside me.

“Why?”

“Make sure it’s a good match.”

“She seems pretty nice,” I said, unsure what he was looking for.

He didn’t respond.

Hannah had one hand on a girl’s head as she spoke to a parent. She glanced over as we approached and smiled. “There’s Lake now. She’ll be my co-counselor for the week.”

I recognized some girls who’d attended last year. They squealed, some jumping up and down and some running over to hug me. I had hoped to get this age group. Everyone knew the nine-year-old girls’ cabin was easiest. They were old enough to know better and young enough that they still listened. Around age ten, one or two girls’ priorities began to change. They’d talk back or sneak around, which the others in the cabin picked up on quickly. At sixteen, it wasn’t as if I could really be in charge of twelve-year-olds like Tiffany could.

Katie, one of my girls from the year before, ran and hugged me, catapulting me backward into Manning.