[Something in the Way 01.0] Something in the Way

by Jessica Hawkins

  The handler came out with a shiny, black horse, scanned the crowd, and started toward me. “You’re going to ride Betsy Junior,” he said.

  I looked around to make sure he wasn’t talking to someone else. “Me?”

  “She’s a little on the wild side, but she’s not as bad as her mom. Better if a counselor takes her.”

  I tried to back away, but my feet were suddenly made of lead. Betsy Junior had black eyes and didn’t blink, as if she were trying to send me a message—touch me and I’ll buck you into a tree. She neighed, a sinister laugh. “I can’t,” I said. I was too young to die. I’d never even been kissed or learned how to drive. “I’m going to sit this one out.”

  “What’s wrong?” Manning asked from behind me, and I jumped. Where had he come from?

  “I can’t do it.”

  “Why not?”

  “She’s scared,” the handler said. “I see it in her eyes. The horse gets the same look when I bring her around all these kids.”

  I gulped. “I’ll stay here and wait for you guys.”

  “You sure?” the instructor asked. “You could ride with me.”

  I’d only just met the guy. He might do this for a living, but what did that even mean? He could’ve been hired yesterday. Maybe he’d been an insurance salesman who’d gotten laid off and had decided owning a pair of cowboy boots qualified him for this job. “I’m sure.”

  “Suit yourself. Looks like Betsy Junior’s safe another day.” He led her back to the stable.

  I turned and found Manning looking at me as if he were waiting for something. “What?” I asked.

  “You know what.”

  “No I don’t.”

  “You got out of the Ferris wheel, but not this one. I’m going to make you get on a horse.”

  “But—”

  “Ride with me.”

  My breath caught in my throat. But that would mean being pressed up against him for an hour. An entire hour. I’d probably faint—and fall off the horse. And get trampled. “But you just said you’ve never done it.”

  “That guy gave me a quick lesson. I’m a natural sportsman.” He smiled crookedly. “I’ve got this, Lake.”

  “It’s okay. I really don’t even want to.”

  With the sun high in the sky, his dark eyes were nearly black. “You told me you weren’t afraid to get dirty.”

  “It’s not that. What if the horse goes crazy and bucks me off?”

  “Then you’ll fall, and we’ll get you up and dust you off.”

  “What if I break something?”

  “What if? You tell me.”

  I opened my mouth. I’d expected him to tell me that wouldn’t happen. That he’d protect me. If I fell off, I might hurt myself and have to go to the infirmary, maybe even the hospital. But that was true for all the girls and boys around me. Which meant now, it wasn’t just about riding a horse. It was about proving what I could handle. How much hurt I could take and keep going. “Okay,” I said without an ounce of confidence. “I’ll ride with you.”

  “Today,” he said. “And next time, you’ll do it yourself.”

  I didn’t believe I could, but he didn’t need to know that. I nodded. “Which horse?”

  “Betsy Senior. Come on.”

  My knees nearly gave out. Of course Manning’s first time on a horse would be on the wildest one. I supposed if I was going to ride a Betsy at all, it might as well be with Manning. I followed him.

  He tested the stirrup with his boot. “Put your foot in and get on.”

  I looked down and back up at him. “On the horse?”

  “Trust me, Birdy.” He gathered the reins. “I just did this with my own campers and a couple of yours.”

  My heart slowed a little hearing his nickname for me. As soon as I stuck my tennis shoe in the stirrup, Manning lifted me onto the horse by my waist. “Christ, Lake,” he said, adjusting my foot in the stirrup. His head came all the way to my shoulder. “You weigh the same as a ten-year-old.”

  It wasn’t true, but it probably felt that way to Manning, who could lift a horse without a struggle.

  Okay, maybe not a horse. But he was strong.

  Manning turned to walk away, and panic gripped me. I reached out and grabbed the first thing I could, nearly toppling over as I latched onto his t-shirt. “Where are you going?”

  He stopped in his tracks, mostly because I had him in a death grip. When he saw me lopsided in the saddle, he laughed. “You know animals can sense fear, right?”

  He wasn’t helping. “That’s a myth.”

  “Is it?” He engulfed my fisted hand with his, but didn’t pull me off. “I was just going to make sure everyone got on, but if you think you need me more . . .”

  I did. I needed him. Why didn’t I get to be selfish every now and then like everyone else? He would stay if I asked him to. Most of the girls had ridden horses before, some had even taken lessons. But I hadn’t come here to be with Manning—I’d come for them. I loosened my fist, and he held my hand until I’d righted myself on the horse.

  “Two minutes,” he said. “If she moves, pull on the reins and say ‘whoa.’”

  Manning checked in with each of his boys and my girls, too. The way he made eye contact with each one and listened to whatever they said made me wonder why my dad wasn’t like this with me when I got scared. He would’ve just told me to get on and quit whining. Did Manning get that from his dad? Where was Mr. Sutter? What did he do for a living? How often did Manning see him? After he’d shut down my questions about his sister, I wasn’t sure I could ask. But if Manning had become the man he was because of his dad, I wanted to meet and thank him.

  Betsy Senior neighed and took a few steps, jolting me back to reality. I tugged on the reins.

  Manning looked over and mouthed, Whoa.

  “Whoa,” I said. Betsy stamped a hoof and settled.

  It took longer than two minutes, but Manning returned once it was time to go. “You want to drive?”

  “No. Will you? Please.”

  He scratched his chin. “I didn’t think this through. You might need to get off so I can get on first. Can you do it?”

  If it meant I wouldn’t have to be in charge of this thing, then yes. He helped me down, hoisted himself onto the horse, and jerked his head for me to get on again. Tentatively, I put my foot in the stirrup again. I had no way of pulling myself up, so Manning offered his elbow. I used it to slide onto the saddle behind him.

  “See?” he said. “You’re a natural. “Ready?”

  But now, what was I supposed to do with my hands? His nearness robbed me of everything from sense to speech. His camp t-shirt, still creased, smelled like plastic and a hint of sweat.

  “You might want to hold on,” he said.

  There was only one way to hold on. He was asking me to put my arms around him—just like that? As if it wasn’t something I’d dreamed of a hundred times? It was impossible that he wouldn’t instantly know the depth of my feelings just by this simple hug. He’d feel the pounding of my heart against his back. My hairline began to sweat. I ached to do it, but I seriously couldn’t bring myself to move an inch. I was scared stiff.

  “I’m okay,” I said.

  “Suit yourself.” Manning clucked his tongue, squeezed Betsy’s sides with his feet, and she jolted forward. I seized onto his t-shirt to keep from falling. He pulled back on the reins, laughing. “Whoa, Betsy. Whoa,” he said. She steadied into a walk. “It might take a few tries.”

  My hands might as well be on him now. I had the fabric of his shirt in two fists, and if I released it, I might fall. Probably. It was likely. I didn’t want to fall. I didn’t want to let go of Manning when I finally had him. I eased my grip and slowly, with appreciation for every detail, slid my arms around his middle. I clasped my hands together and scooted closer, my inner thighs pressing against his legs. My pulse beat everywhere, especially the places we touched. And I felt his, too. I couldn’t tell if the fast, rhythmic ba-boom against my palms was
just the robust heartbeat of a healthy man or if he was feeling as euphoric and turned on and nervous as I was.

  As everyone started down the path, Manning and I pulled up the rear while one handler took the lead. Hannah and the other instructor rode alongside the kids.

  Manning cleared his throat and asked over his shoulder, “Are you comfortable?”

  My chest was mashed against him, my butt awkwardly pushed out to keep just a little distance between us so he wouldn’t think I was trying to get too cozy. Worst of all, I couldn’t see over him since he was so tall, and I didn’t know where to put my face. It didn’t matter. I sighed. “Yes.”

  “Did you fall off a horse as a kid or something?”

  “No. I never even got on one.”

  “So this is like the Ferris wheel?” he asked. “It’s not really a height thing.”

  “No. My friend had a treehouse growing up and I went in there sometimes. I get on the roof at home.”

  “The roof?”

  “From my room. I can climb out the window.”

  “Hmm.” His hum vibrated my body. “So it must be things that move. Not being able to control what could happen. Have you ever been on a plane?”

  Those were worst of all. Talk about having no control. You could die a million different ways on a plane and most of it wouldn’t be instant. If it started to fall out of the sky, you’d have to sit there, knowing you were going to die. Just waiting. I shuddered. “I had to as a kid when we took vacations. I didn’t have a choice. I think I cried through my entire first flight and after that, my parents just gave me something.”

  “That surprises me,” he said. “I know you’re brave.”

  Me, brave? I wasn’t so sure. “Why do you think that?”

  “Just little things. Like when we went to that party before the fair, and Tiffany pressured you to go in. You said no when most teenagers would’ve done the opposite.”

  “That wasn’t bravery,” I said. “I just don’t like those things—drinking, flirting, acting stupid because they think it’s cute or funny.”

  “A lot of people don’t like those things, but they do them anyway. Because people make them think it’s cool. They back down. They’re the cowards.” Manning placed his hand over mine as I held on. My throat went dry, my body tingling in places I didn’t know could tingle. “Take the reins a minute,” he said.

  “I can’t even see.” That was a lie. I saw Manning, and Manning was all I saw.

  “You don’t need to, because I can.” He removed my hand to place a rein in it, then did the same with the other. “There you go. You’re a pro.”

  I wasn’t doing a single thing but holding the reins. He could’ve been steering me into the lake, and I’d have no idea. For some reason, it was important to him that I do this on my own.

  “Hey, Jake,” Manning called out. “Mike. Stop screwing around. This isn’t a videogame. These are real animals.”

  “Sorry, Manning,” a couple boys said.

  “You’re good with them. I can tell they look up to you.” My back started to ache from keeping some distance between us. “Do you want kids?”

  He took the reins again. “Not really. No. Not right now.”

  I had nowhere to put my hands. “I do, one day.”

  “You’re still a kid yourself.”

  “Just because I’m younger than you doesn’t mean I’m a kid.” I wrapped my arms around him again, this time pulling myself forward until we were snug, hardly any space left between us. “And I’m getting older every day.”

  He straightened up, and I rested my cheek against his back, closing my eyes, inhaling the scent of the pine trees around us. We rocked together with the steady bump-and-grind of the horse’s hooves on the dirt path. The fresh morning air kept me cool, even while my body warmed where we touched. My jeans caught on his, but his t-shirt was soft under my bare arms. Based on what I’d heard from kids at school, this was the way I imagined it felt to be drunk or high, to reach a level of happiness and bliss that could only be achieved with help. Arms, chest, cheek. My entire self pressed against Manning’s solid body—that was my drug of choice.

  Was sixteen too young to fall in love? I might’ve thought so before Manning. Could he love me back, a man seven years older? I was sure if he did, he’d never admit it. But I would wait for him. Even I understood that for a while, ours ages mattered. There was no right now for us. Eighteen was a lifetime away. That was two more whole school years, another long summer. It was millions of breaths that would inevitably catch in my throat around him and thousands of pages read across so many books and hundreds of long, sun-soaked California days. But the wait would be, without a doubt, worth it.

  The horse slowed. I opened my eyes but didn’t lift my head. We were at the lake now. A couple cabins were canoeing. Because she was as familiar to me as my own reflection, but also because she was yelling across the water at some of her girls, my gaze went straight to Tiffany.

  Her canoe rocked, and for a second, I thought she might fall in. She grabbed the edges, steadied herself, and sat. Her campers pointed at the parade of horses, waving to us. Tiffany shielded her eyes.

  I turned my head away, resting my other cheek against Manning’s back as I tightened my hold on him. Tiffany didn’t know what she had, what she could have.

  As much as it frustrated me, I was thankful for that.

  16

  Manning

  Lake carried a bucket of water that looked half her size. She put it down in front of Betsy and with a tentative hand, stroked the horse’s nose. We were only halfway through the ride, and she was already overcoming her fear. It was what I wanted, except that when Betsy whinnied and Lake jumped back and looked at me, a part of me liked that. I craved that feeling of being needed again, of being held onto when she was scared. A hint of fear was good. It would keep her alert.

  The air up here was crisp. I could practically feel it move through my lungs. I wished my fears were as easily overcome, but I was fucked any way I turned. Lake was important to me in a way she shouldn’t be. Her naiveté about some things made me overprotective. Then, once in a while her girlish mannerisms or expressions reminded me of things Maddy did I’d forgotten about, like how she blinked a lot when processing something new. It drew me in. On a primal level, I wanted to keep bad things from happening to her. Was it more than that? I didn’t want to know the answer. In some ways, she was still sweet and open. In others, Lake was more mature than people my own age. She wanted to understand things rather than accept them as they were. She took an interest in me nobody else had in a long time, grilling me about the smoking, asking why I wanted to be a cop. Trusting me when she had no reason to.

  Lake returned to my side. She’d barely spent any time with Hannah or her girls since we’d left the stables. She was here to experience camp, not me. But I was greedy. When she looked up at me with her huge eyes, waiting for my direction, I knew peripherally that I was in too deep. I needed to pull back. But that look reminded me someone might depend on me again one day, and if things were different, Lake could’ve been that someone.

  She was still standing there. Even if I pushed my heels into my eye sockets and forced her image away, she’d still be here. Looking up at me. Waiting.

  “Why don’t you go check on the girls?” I asked.

  “I did. The boys, too. After I gave the horse water.”

  Time passed in a funny way around her. Maybe she had talked to the campers. Maybe she’d spent time with Hannah. I’d been the one standing in the same spot, watching her. Time could be slow like that with her, and then sometimes it went by in flashes. Sometimes I just wanted it to stop and others, I wished it’d go by faster.

  “We should head back,” she said. “There’s a group after us.”

  I wasn’t sure if it was the altitude or what. My head wasn’t clear. All I could think was that I’d spent twenty-four hours on a lake, underneath clear, endless skies, and yet I’d still never seen a blue the shade of her
eyes. I was sure the image of her looking up at me this way would be burned into my brain for as long as I walked this Earth.

  “Manning?”

  “Yeah.” I tore my gaze away. “Get on.”

  “I want to drive.”

  Half an hour ago, she could barely bring herself to get near the horse. Maybe she didn’t need me after all. “By yourself?”

  “No, with you.”

  I nodded. “You get on first.”

  “Will you help?”

  “You can do it,” I said.

  “I know. I want your help.”

  I ran a hand through my hair. The other instructors were helping campers on the horses. How was this different? I had no reason to feel weird. Lake was Tiffany’s little sister.

  She stuck her foot in the stirrup and looked back at me, waiting.

  As I took Lake by the waist and put her in the saddle, I tried not to notice how her shirt rode up. “All set?” I asked one of the handlers.

  “Got the back?” he replied.

  “Yeah.”

  One by one, the group lined up to head back for the campsite. I grabbed the knob at the front of the saddle, right between Lake’s legs, and pulled myself up behind her. She slid back into the “V” my thighs made, the two of us fitting together like puzzle pieces. I took the reins and waited until everyone had gone ahead of us. I could’ve rested my chin on Lake’s head, or closed my arms around her and engulfed her completely. Her hair smelled like sweet summer strawberries, as if she washed it in the produce section of a fucking supermarket.

  Distracted, I pulled on the reins without meaning to, and Betsy stopped.

  “What’s wrong?” Lake asked.

  “Nothing.” I squeezed Betsy’s middle to get her to go again. I tried to remember how Tiffany smelled. Nothing came to mind except that she smoked cigarettes and chewed a lot of minty gum.

  “I’m ready to try,” Lake said.