Page 59 of The Cheerleader

I hear her whisper his name. She didn’t close the door behind her, so I glance inside to see her leaning over him. He’s lying on a mattress on the floor, not a bed. A barrage of emotions hits me as I look around his moonlit room, at the starkness, the lack of comfort. There are no curtains, not even a shade or blinds on the window. A battered wood chair and small table stacked with books are all he has.

Liz leans over him, but I don’t hear him respond to her. I let out a sigh of relief because I don’t want to witness a confrontation.

“Bryan, wake up.” She puts a hand on his shoulder, and I stop breathing.

I should, but I don’t stop watching, don’t turn the other way or pull the door closed. Maybe I want to make sure she doesn’t do anything rash.

Who am I kidding? Would I actually go in there and stop her, interfere so boldly in their personal business? No.

Bryan stirs and moans. The sound rips my heart out. He looks up at Liz and lets out a string of expletives that would make me run the other way if I were her, but not Liz. Shit. I stand frozen, hating myself for wanting to stop her, to save him from her obsession—because that’s what I think it is—hating myself for having disloyal thoughts about my best friend.

She whispers to him, putting a hand on his face as she sits on the floor next to his mattress.

“Get out of here. Leave me alone, Liz.” His pained words are loud and clear, and I close my eyes.

She says something, but I don’t hear it, don’t want to hear it as I finally muster the self-respect to pull the door closed, muffling their voices.

They’re not muffled enough for me to not hear the rising tone of anger in their indistinct words. They’re arguing. I step back and lean against the opposite wall, waiting, because I know this will end badly for Liz. And I can’t make myself not care about that, even as I tell myself she’s the one behaving badly, forcing herself on him.

Great, now I feel disloyal to Bryan. The young version of him I found in the ditch that day.

I don’t know what kind of relationship Bryan and Liz have, but I know it’s more than Bryan admits to and less than Liz thinks it is. Their relationship seems to exist somewhere in a vague, compelling purgatory that’s impossible to navigate safely.

They’re irrevocably connected somehow, and it’s not a comfortable bond for either of them.

The door flies open, startling me, and Liz rushes from the room almost crying. I go to her, and she leans on me as I instinctively hug her. I glance into the room. He’s standing, silhouetted by the window, wearing only his underwear. Shit. Why do I feel like I’ve been caught doing something bad, like I’m picking sides with Liz, betraying him?

He looks straight at me with a fierce expression filled with all kinds of pain.

I pull the door closed and walk with an arm around Liz. She swipes at her face, then breaks away from me and runs back down the hall. I don’t think I’ve ever seen her this upset, not even when she should have been. Not even that awful night in eighth grade that made my parents re-think our friendship.

Now she is crying. A pinch of panic hits me because I’ve never seen her cry in all the time I’ve known her.

Though I always suspected she was more fragile than she appears, it’s unsettling to see. Maybe the two nips she shot down on the ride over have made her more prone to tears.

“Liz, wait.” I catch up with her as she turns the corner into the kitchen.

“Where’s the keg?” she shouts into the crowd of people. A couple of guys point out the open back door.

I follow her outside where the crowd is bigger and the air is fresh and cool, a welcome change from the sweltering weather two weeks ago. Dane is there and grabs a plastic cup from a table, already filled with beer, and hands it to her.

“How is he?”

She downs her beer. “He’s an ass.”

Dane laughs. “Don’t worry. That’s the pain getting to his normal good nature.”

Liz laughs, and I smile, but I’m unsure how I feel about him and Liz laughing. Not that it’s any of my business. Or it shouldn’t be, and wouldn’t be if Liz didn’t keep dragging me into it like I’m her crutch, like she needs moral support to have a relationship with a boy she’s known forever, a boy who considers her an important friend, someone he takes care of. He treats her almost like a relative. And that’s the problem.

I keep this all to myself, and when Dane hands me a cup of foamy beer, I take it to be polite.

A tall guy who we met at Huskies—I think his name is Chuck Wayne—shoves his way to the knot of us standing at the keg and waves to get Dane’s attention.

“Hey, we got everyone outside, and I’m starting to get worried about the neighbors. Maybe we should bring the kegs inside.”

Lenny Dobbins answers for Dane, “Never mind that. Invite the neighbors over to party. That takes care of the problem.”

“They’re old and have kids, nitwit,” Chuck says. “They’re not coming over for a keg party.”