Page 17 of The Cheerleader

“Have you heard from Todd?” She whispers the question like she’s afraid of the answer.

“No. He doesn’t have my phone number.” That’s not why I haven’t heard from him, and I’m hesitant to tell her I don’t want to.

“Well, I’m sure there are plenty of nice boys at UConn. Have you met any yet?” And this is why I didn’t want to tell her Todd and I are over.

“The only boys on campus so far are on sports teams like football and soccer,” I say, skating around the question of whether I’ve met any boys like a champion. It’s useless telling her boys are the last thing I’m worried about right now.

“Don’t worry; once classes get going and the campus fills up with all the students, you’ll find somebody nice. I’m certain of it.”

“You’re probably right, Mom. I have to go to dinner now. I’ll call again next week after classes start.”

Hanging the receiver in the cradle of the wall next to the door, I turn to our shared dresser and pull out a tube top and cutoffs since I imagine Rapp’s Deli is not a particularly formal place. Then I slide on my Dr. Scholl’s sandals, and I’m almost ready to go.

My hair is still damp, so I stand in front of the fan to dry it, long and as straight as it’ll go. It’s unfashionably thick with a slight wave to it, but I don’t care. I should care. I was raised my whole life to care about my appearance at all times, but tonight doesn’t feel like my real life.

Somehow being at UConn—and especially running into Liz and becoming a cheerleader, of all things—doesn’t feel real. It feels more like I’m in an episode of the Twilight Zone, like this is a temporary suspension of reality.

Truthfully, I’ve felt like this since Dad was laid off from his job. Things changed then, the effect of his job loss rippling through my life in waves, on and on, from leaving Smith to working a summer job at the tobacco farm—something I never expected to do—to my parents talking to a real estate agent.

I was too chicken to ask Dad about his job hunt today because I don’t want to hear about his interviews on the West Coast. When he gets a job, he’ll tell me. Or Mom will.

And when they sell the house, they’ll tell me. They’ll sit me down in the never-used formal living room for one of those life-altering talks. Shit. I swipe at my eyes as I stare at myself in the mirror, then try to look busy rummaging through my makeup when Liz saunters into the room in her towel.

She carries on a monologue about Rapp’s as she dresses in fast motion, putting on old Levi’s and a red halter top that sets off her dark hair. She doesn’t need makeup—not that I’m wearing much myself besides a little eyeliner and mascara. The sunshine took care of adding a touch of pink to my face whether I wanted it or not.

“I hope Bryan is there tonight.” She sits down to put on her strappy sandals. They’re a few years out of fashion, and I wonder if she got them at Goodwill. It’s where she used to get her clothes. But I don’t ask.

“Why wouldn’t he be there?”

“He’s a loner sometimes. A real party pooper.” She makes a comically disapproving face.

“You would make an odd couple then. Why do you like him?”

“Besides the fact that he’s the ultimate fox?” She grins and sighs. “He’s my guy, my person, the one I count on, I unload on. The one person in the world I need.”

Sounds more like a father substitute or a brother more than a boyfriend—except for the fox part because I agree that he has a lot of sex appeal. But I nod because it’s her call who to crush on, and maybe connecting doesn’t need an explanation.

“Sounds like you know him really well, like you have quite a past with him.”

“We do. I’ve known him longer than I’ve known you.”

“You never mentioned him.”

“No. He was my secret friend—or the friend I shared all my secrets with. And now I need to win him back. I need a plan because he’s so dug in and won’t listen to reason. I need to appeal to his baser needs—if you know what I mean.”

“You mean you’re going to throw yourself at him?” I’m half kidding.

“Not exactly… well, maybe. If that doesn’t work, I’m thinking I’ll have to make him jealous. Jealousy always works.”

I shake my head. “I don’t know, Liz. It might not. It’s risky. You’ll have to involve another guy⁠—”

“That’s the beauty of it.” She laughs. “I’m always up for flirting and maybe making out with a cute guy.”

“That’s what I’m worried about,” I say, half laughing. I’m not sure if she’s serious.

“Let’s go.” Liz flips her hair over her shoulder. It’s the same length as mine, only straighter and finer, parted down the middle, the most in-vogue, effortless style. “We should get there early since I’m in charge.” Liz checks her watch, a basic black-banded Timex.

My watch is a slick Seiko with a gold satin-finish band and an emerald green face. I reach for the latch, automatically self-conscious enough to want to remove it. She flashes her friendly smile with a what are you waiting for question in her eyes.