Was it dishonest not to volunteer information? People did it all the time. Tiffany’d sneak out in the middle of the night and pretend she hadn’t the next morning. Or Mom would take us shopping and hide the receipts from Dad. I looked away. Every time the Ferris wheel stopped, seats rocked.
“I’m honest.” I couldn’t think of many times in my life when I hadn’t been.
Manning tilted his head. He’d returned to looking at me like I was a science project. A very young one. “I know you are.”
“How?”
“I just do.”
“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.