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He and his family learned of his triumph in the living room where, as a 6-year-old, he put on his first plays. The way she smiled at Manning as she came toward us, I couldn’t shake the feeling that even though I’d met him first, for some reason, Tiffany thought he belonged to her.AP correspondent Margie Szaroleta reports on Tony Nominations.Ĭooper learned he’s been nominated twice - as best playwright and as lead actor - while visiting his childhood home in Texas. She had way more experience than me when it came to anything boy-related. As if she knew something I didn’t-and she definitely did, she knew lots that I didn’t. For all the time and effort it took her to get ready, she looked breezy. Her denim shorts were a few inches shorter than mine, her ponytail and hoop earrings swinging. In the porch light, my sister’s blonde hair yellowed. Sawdust and cigarette smoke lingered in the air, but standing close to him, I mostly smelled men’s deodorant and soap.

With a grunt, he tilted his head toward the sky, but quickly looked back at the house.

Not that I planned to stay out all night with my sister and him, but it bothered me that Manning might think I was childish. “If you’re scared, it’s okay to admit it.” Big, dark Manning would’ve blended right in with the night if not for his bleach-white t-shirt. The ashes of his cigarette were like silver confetti on the concrete. I nudged the curb with the toe of my sneaker. I didn’t want to admit I was scared, though. Something like that, you could fall off at any moment, I was sure. To spend an evening with you, I wanted to say. “But you pushed through? Just to go ride a Ferris wheel?” I didn’t have the guts to try it, but that didn’t stop me from being curious. I nodded as if I hadn’t been told so a thousand times by teachers, parents, PSAs on TV. All it takes is that first time, and you’re hooked. I didn’t like lying, but it was the only way to spend time with Manning. Already, my sister was breaking the rules by telling Dad we were getting a ride to the fair with her friend Sarah, not Manning. I was worried they’d look out and see me standing with Manning, but not so much that I wasn’t going to do it. The glare of my parents’ TV flashed in the window. The little orange tip flared before he dropped the butt on the street and stamped it out. Because it was long, it got tangled easily. I smelled smoke before I saw the cigarette.

In the dark, he leaned against the driver’s side, large and shadowed, all black hair, dark eyes. Manning had parked his truck one house over, by the construction site, to pick up Tiffany and me for the fair.

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