Something in the Way (Something in the Way 1)

“And the campfire skits,” Hannah said. “We have to come up with some ideas. Should we do that now?”

“Better to brainstorm with the girls,” I said absentmindedly and stood. I had no idea what I wanted to do or say. With a sideways glance at Hannah, I said, “I’ll be right back.”

I crossed the aisle to Manning. It took him a moment to turn and look at me, but when he did, he gestured for me to sit. “Hey, Birdy.”

Birdy. I wished I hadn’t been so self-conscious about bringing a stuffed animal to camp, because I already missed it. It made me feel close to him when we were apart. I turned my shoulder into the seatback, angling away from Hannah and the rest of the bus. “Hi.”

“What can I do for you?” he asked lightly.

“Nothing.” I tucked some hair behind my ear. He smelled faintly of cigarette smoke mixed with aftershave. The bus driver turned the music up a little for Aerosmith’s “Crazy.” “What do you think so far?” I asked.

“Lots of things.”

“Good things?”

“Good things.” He glanced at my knees and then away. “Are you cold? You have goosebumps.”

I did, but not because the air conditioning was too high. They were from being close to him, from having a secret nickname, from Steven Tyler’s “C’mere, baby.” I shook my head. “I’m fine.”

He looked back out the window. Our beloved beach had been replaced with desertscape and rundown towns. Soon it’d be mountains, pine trees, curvy roads.

“Do you want to be alone?” I asked.

He didn’t respond right away. He had a hard profile, darkened against the bright window. Always brooding, with his pitch-black hair and heavy eyebrows. Would he tell me what he was thinking about if I got up the courage to ask? I didn’t think so. I’d never met anyone so private, and it only fueled my curiosity.

If he wanted me to go, I figured he was too polite to say so. I went to get up, but he said, “No.”

He had a funny way of acting like he wanted me around since he didn’t look at or speak to me. But I hadn’t been alone with him in weeks, and I had questions—about nothing and everything.

I chose a safe topic. “Are you finished at the house?”

He turned to me. “Not yet. We’re waiting for some permits to come through.”

“Then what?”

“We’ll be there another couple weeks or so.”

Hearing he’d be around a little longer wasn’t much of relief because summer would be over in two weeks anyway—and I had no idea what would happen next. “Then what?” I pressed.

“I graduate in December, and I start training to be a police officer.”

“Where?”

“Wherever there’s a place for me.”

My face flushed, my blood suddenly rushing. The idea of him leaving made my heart thump painfully hard. I was stuck in every sense of the word. I had two years left of high school. After that, I’d be in Los Angeles for at least four years for college. What if he didn’t want to go back to L.A.? I couldn’t even get in a car and drive anywhere until I got my license. Manning could leave at any moment without even telling me. No warning, no way for me to follow him.

I gripped the edge of his seat cushion in a fist, as if that’d keep him here. “You’d move?”

He must’ve heard the panic in my voice, because he studied me. His expression smoothed. “Only if I had to. I like Orange County, and I don’t plan to leave. But I have to go where the work is.”

“Will you tell me if you do?” I asked.

He wrinkled his nose. “Of course.”

“Can I have your phone number just in case?”

He laughed a little and rested his head against the back of the seat. “You make me smile, Lake. Nobody else does. How could I walk away from you?” His joy, if you could call it that, eased as he stared up at the ceiling. He kept his voice down. “I’ll promise you something better. Wherever I go, I won’t abandon you.”

“What does that mean? I can come with you?”

“It just means we’ll always be friends. As long as you want that.”

I held onto his seat even more tightly. I believed him, because it was the same for me. If I had to be away from him a few years, if I had to make long distance phone calls or write letters—no cost would be too high to keep him in my life. And maybe down the line, that would pay off. One day, he’d look at me and see a beautiful, sexy woman instead of the awkward, inexperienced teen I was now.

“Where would you go?” I asked.

“I honestly don’t know.”

“Home?”

He shook his head, still looking up. “I don’t have a home.”

I refrained from transferring my death grip from the cushion to his hand. I could give him whatever it was he was missing. I knew I could. “How is that possible?” I asked softly.