Standing under the Ferris wheel, watching it go round and round, made me ill. I did it until I lost track of Manning and Tiffany, then crossed the pathway and sat on a step eating tufts of cotton candy while I waited.

A pair of ripped blue jeans stepped in front of me. “Hey.”

I looked up into sharp, crystal blue eyes that were a trademark of the very good-looking, very popular Swenson brothers, Cane, Corey, and the one blocking my view, Corbin. Blond hair curled out from under a Billabong hat that sat low on his head, its rigid bill almost shadowing his face.

Corbin was closest to my age. He stood with a skateboard behind his head, propped lengthwise on his shoulders, wheels out. He’d covered the underbelly in stickers. “Don’t you go to my high school?” he asked.

Even though I was fairly sure he thought I was someone else, I nodded.

He tapped his chin. “You have, uh, stuff . . .”

Quickly, I wiped my face with my sleeve. “Thanks.”

“And your tongue is blue.” He grinned. “Why aren’t you at that party on Marigold?”

I sat up a little. “Why aren’t you? I’m sure all your friends are there.”

“I was. It’s no big deal.” Absentmindedly, he spun one of the skateboard’s wheels with a long finger. A cartoon sticker of a naked woman peeled at one corner. “So you know who I am?”

I blinked back to his face. “Corbin.”

“What’s your name?”

“Lake.”

“Cool. You skate?”

I ate more of my cotton candy. “No.”

“Surf?”

Tiffany and I had gone to a few surf camps over the years. I could barely stand. Tiffany was better, but she preferred dry land for sunbathing with her Walkman and magazines.

I figured I’d surfed more than the average teenager, so I shrugged. “Kind of.”

“You should come out with me and my brothers sometime. We could use some chicks in the lineup.”

“Maybe.”

“You here by yourself?”

I still wasn’t sure if he thought he was talking to someone else. I hadn’t seen Corbin with any specific girl I could remember, but guys like him always had a girlfriend. “With my sister.”

“Who’s your sister?”

“Tiffany.”

“Kaplan?” He swung his skateboard in front of his legs and laughed. “Yeah. Makes sense. I see the resemblance now.”

I had no idea why that was funny. It happened a lot, people finding out we were sisters and mentioning “the resemblance.” Whether or not it was just something people said, I usually took it as a compliment. With Corbin, I wasn’t so sure. “How do you know Tiffany?”

“From school. And she’s friends with my older brother.”

“I’m a year below you.”

“I know.”

Only then did my heart skip a beat, once I realized the most popular guy in school really was talking to me. Corbin had noticed me. Our high school wasn’t that big, but there were hundreds of students.

“I’ve seen you around,” he added with a smile. It was a nice smile, too—since he was so tan, his teeth looked unnaturally white. Everyone knew who the Swensons were. Their dad worked with mine, so the name even came up a time or two at the dinner table. I could see why girls liked the brothers with their perpetual surfer tans, their tall and lean muscular bodies. If I’d thought much about talking to Corbin, I would’ve guessed it’d be a bumbling, muttering, stomach-butterflies kind of thing, but it wasn’t. I liked him, and I liked that he didn’t make nervous.

The Ferris wheel stopped. I tried to see around Corbin, then through his legs, past his skinned knees, but he blocked my view with the skateboard.

“We went to camp together when we were kids.”

“What?”

“Young Cubs,” he said. “You know? Camp?”

I looked up at him again. I remembered, but it seemed so long ago. We were different people then. Kids. “I’m going back this year as a junior counselor,” I said.

“Cool. I’ll be there for a day to coach a baseball game, show them how it’s done.” He winked. “I’d stay longer, but I have baseball camp that week.”

“Sounds fun,” I said, leaning so far to the side I almost toppled over.

“Looking for Tiffany?” he asked.

“She’s on the Ferris wheel.”

“Alone?”

Manning’s height gave them away. He was at least a head taller than any adult, and in a crowd of kids, he verged on giant status. “She’s with a friend.”

“Who? Sarah?”

Manning’s eyes locked on Corbin’s back, and he came over, Tiffany on his heels.

The cotton candy made my mouth tacky. I ran my tongue over my teeth, worried they might be blue. I was suddenly aware of my breathing, of the fact that my shorts had ridden up when I sat.

“Hello?” Corbin asked.

“Huh?” I asked without looking away from Manning.

Corbin checked over his shoulder just as Tiffany spotted us.

“Hey, Corbin,” Tiffany said, looking a bit off balance in her platforms. “Looking for me?”

“Nope.” Corbin turned back to me. “Just saying what’s up to your sister.”

Tiffany grabbed Corbin’s forearm, pulling him away. “Have you met Manning?” she asked. “He’s in college.”

“Cool.” Corbin dropped the skateboard on the ground and planted a big, fat Airwalk sneaker on it to stop it from rolling away. “I should get back to my friends. We’ll be surfing Huntington Pier all next week, Lake. South side, in the mornings. If you want to come watch.”

I waved. “See ya.”

Manning watched Corbin skate off, his eyes narrowed. “Who was that?”

“Corbin Swenson,” Tiffany and I answered at the same time.

“What’d he want?” Manning asked.

I shrugged. “Just saying hi.”

Tiffany tightened her ponytail. “Are you friends?”

Both Tiffany and Manning towered over me. For just getting off a carnival ride, neither of them looked very happy. Had they fought? I could almost convince myself I’d heard something like jealousy in Manning’s questions just now.

I pulled my knees against my chest. “I wouldn’t say friends. More like acquaintances.”

“Oh.” Tiffany sat next to me on the stairs. “I went out with his brother once. I always thought Corbin had a crush on me.”

That was a typical thing for Tiffany to assume. “So?”

“So just keep in mind that some guys might look at you and see me.”

“Meaning?”

She brushed some of my hair off my neck, glancing up at Manning as if checking to see if she should proceed. “You and I are different. I cut class. Went to bonfires on the beach, drank, smoked weed.”

I wanted to relax into the feeling of Tiffany’s fingers in my hair, but I worried an insult was coming. “And?”

“And you do homework for fun.”

I made a face. “I do not.”

“Just don’t be naïve. Corbin’s a nice guy, but he can have any girl he wants, which means he probably does. He’s a heartbreaker.”

Maybe I did focus too much on school, and maybe I had no clue about boys like Tiffany thought. But I didn’t want Manning to know that. “I’m not as innocent as you think,” I said.

Tiffany laughed and hugged me from the side. “Yes, you are.”

Okay, so she was right. I’d experienced embarrassingly little—less, even, than my friends, and they were mild compared to most girls at my school.

“Innocence is good,” Manning said, sounding funny, as if his teeth were clenched. “She has the rest of her life for parties. For punks like that guy.”

Tiffany ruffled my hair as if I were her child, not her high school-aged sister. “What should we ride next, Manning?”

“You want that stuffed animal?” he asked.

Her eyes lit up. “Do you really think you can win it?”

I tasted metal. It was as if I wasn’t even there. They acted like they were my babysitters. I should’ve paid more attention to the guys Tiffany had dated in the past. How long did it take for her to lose interest and move on to the next? To me, Manning seemed as untouchable as the glossy celebrities taped to Tiffany’s wall, so why did she get to touch him?

Manning and Tiffany turned to the booth with the stuffed animals, ignoring me. As long as I sat there being my quiet, innocent self, they could carry on with their lives.

I stood, brushing dirt off the seat of my shorts. “I’m going to see if Corbin wants to ride the Ferris wheel with me.”

Manning turned around first. “What?”

“I said—”

“I heard you.” He glanced at the ride and back at me. “I thought you were scared.”

“I was, but you said I could do it, so I think I’m ready.” I wasn’t ready. Not to go it alone, and if I wasn’t riding with Manning, I might as well be by myself.

Manning’s expression didn’t change, but he cracked a knuckle. “Maybe it’s better to wait.”

I crossed my arms over myself. When Manning ignored me, everything hurt, but when he looked right at me, like now, the contents of my stomach turned upside down, as if my insides were doing acrobatics. “I’m going to do it now. With Corbin.”

“You like him,” Tiffany teased. “I don’t blame you. All the Swensons are totally gorgeous.”

Manning put a firm hand on my shoulder, physically keeping me where I stood. “I’ll go with you.”

I cocked my head. I had no intention of hunting down Corbin—maybe he wasn’t as intimidating as I thought, but I wasn’t about to approach one of the most popular guys in school for a kiddie ride. Manning didn’t want me to do it, though, and fighting with him was better than being ignored by him. “You already went. With Tiffany. Remember?”

His hand warmed the entire left side of my body. By the look on his face, the sarcasm in my comment didn’t amuse him. “Do you want to ride it or not?”

“Yes. With Corbin.”

Manning shook his head. “You’re too young to be alone with someone his age—”

I opened my mouth to protest, but Tiffany beat me to it. “It’s a Ferris wheel, not Seven Minutes in Heaven. Don’t you remember being sixteen?”

“Too well. That’s why I’m saying no.”

“You can’t tell me no.” I scoffed. “I’m not a kid, and even if I were, you still couldn’t tell me no.”

He looked at me a moment, then pulled me to his side with one strong, heavy arm around my shoulders. It wasn’t an intimate gesture. I wouldn’t be surprised if he took a page out of Tiffany’s book and rumpled my hair. Still, I was pressed against him, surrounded in his soapy scent, his hip against my side, his enormous hand squeezing my shoulder.

“I’m going to win you a prize,” he said. “Anything you want. Pick it, and I’ll get it for you. No matter how big it is.”

He no longer sounded angry or jealous or even cautious, and that was a first. Was this how Tiffany always got what she wanted from men—by doing what they told her not to? “Really?” I asked.

“What’s your favorite animal? Frogs?”

I couldn’t help my laugh. As kids, my friends and I used to catch and release toads in the street—but I wasn’t a kid anymore. “Whose favorite animal is a frog? They’re slimy.”

He shrugged one shoulder and pulled me along with him toward a hit-the-target game. “So, nothing slimy then.”

Manning paid the carnie, received three baseballs and missed the target three times.

I smiled at his effort. Just that alone was worth being happy over. “It’s okay if—”

“No it’s not. I promised you.” Manning called the man over again. “Another round.”

I almost missed Tiffany’s glare, but when I caught it, I just about told her to take a hike. To go find Corbin Swenson, her number one admirer. Being the center of Manning’s attention was as heady as I thought it would be, and I didn’t want to share the spotlight.

Tiffany turned away on her own, though, leaving us to go talk to the man operating the booth.

Right as I turned back, Manning reared back and pitched the ball in a perfect line. It bounced off the cardboard around the target.

“These games are rigged,” he muttered.

“Don’t worry about it,” I said.

“I am worried,” he teased. At least, I thought he was kidding. He spoke lightly but also focused intensely on the target. Maybe something did have him worried.

Gearing up for his second throw, his t-shirt sleeve rode up his bicep. The skin there was whiter than the rest of his arm, smoother. His muscles strained the fabric.

Tiffany glanced over at us.

Manning missed. “God d—” His neck reddened and after a deep breath, he snatched the third baseball. He threw it so hard, everyone jumped when it smacked the target. Manning wiped his hairline with his sleeve and nodded. “There we go.”

The attendant barely looked away from Tiffany. “Pick any from this side,” he said, gesturing toward a wall with small stuffed animals and toys.

“What if I want a bigger one?” Manning asked.

“You have to hit the target twice.”

“I don’t want a bigger one,” I said immediately, taking a step closer to Manning. I looked up at him, proud. I’d never seen anyone hit the target directly, not even my dad, and he’d played this game before.

“You sure?” he asked. “Because I’ll—”

“I’m sure.” I pointed to the first thing I saw, a white-and-blue pelican. “That one.”

Manning leaned over the counter to wrestle the toy off the wall. “It needs a name,” he said.

My cheeks flushed. “I don’t name my stuffed animals.”

He passed it to me. “I think you should.”

I hugged it to my chest. Put on the spot, I couldn’t think of anything clever. “Well, it’s a bird, so . . . Birdy?”

“Birdy,” he repeated, looking me in the eyes. He ran a thumb over the head of the stuffed toy, his knuckles brushing the neckline of my shirt, the top curve of my breast. He didn’t seem to notice, but I shivered. “You cold, Birdy?”

It fit perfectly in my arms, the first thing a boy had ever given me—and not just a boy. Manning. “Birdy’s warm.” I nodded. “Birdy’s perfect. Thank you.”

“Welcome.”

“Look what I won.” Tiffany strutted over, her arms barely meeting around the middle of a giraffe as tall as her. She grinned. “And I didn’t even have to throw a single ball.”

“You going to carry that thing around the whole park?” Manning asked. “We’ll have to buy it its own ticket.”

She laughed. “Of course not. It’s as big as me. You are.” She shoved it at Manning, who tucked it under his arm, looking much less annoyed than I felt.

When I glanced over at the Ferris wheel, Manning noticed. “Still want me to take you?”

I curled my fingers into Birdy’s soft, velvety fur. I couldn’t have been happier. “No, it’s okay.”

Tiffany took Manning’s free arm and guided him away, leaving me to follow behind them. “Thank you for taking care of her,” she whispered loudly. “My dad will love you for it.”

“Dad?” I asked. “You’re going to introduce them?”

“No.” Tiffany looked back at me, and then up at Manning. “Well, maybe. Would you, Manning?”

“Would I what?”

“Meet my parents.” She squeezed his elbow. “You could come over for dinner.”

Manning, at the dinner table? With Dad? Tiffany had brought home two guys before—an older man who owned a tanning booth and a guy with dreadlocks. Neither had lasted a week past dinner. Dad didn’t even like Tiffany’s friends, much less her boyfriends. He went out of his way to make them feel small, and Tiffany knew it.

“I don’t think he should,” I said.

“Don’t be rude,” Tiffany said.

“But you know how Dad is.”

“How?” Manning asked.

I recited my mom’s excuse for Dad whenever he insulted someone. “People just don’t get his sense of humor.”

“Manning can handle it,” Tiffany said, trailing her fingers over the giraffe’s neck. “Can’t you?”

Tiffany’s words from the other night came back to me. The construction workers pissed Dad off, and she liked that. Maybe she even wanted it.

“Is it all right with you?” Manning asked me.

“Why should she care?” Tiffany asked.

“Because I’ll be eating dinner with your family, and she’s an entire quarter of it.”

“You want to come?” I asked.

He looked back at me. “Might be a good idea to meet your parents.”

He said it to me, not Tiffany. He wanted to meet my parents. And while I should’ve felt uneasy about it, the idea that Manning had any interest in my life had the opposite effect.

It made my heart soar.