Page 100 of The Cheerleader

“What did you think of the game?” I ask, needing to change the subject.

“That young man who ran with the ball and scored a touchdown is very good,” she says. “Do you know him? I thought I recognized you talking to him.”

I nod.

“Well, tell us all about him,” Aunt Mabel says with the smile on her mouth ready for gossip.

“What do you want to know?” I half-laugh, uncomfortable with the topic and hoping they didn’t see too much, like the hug and the way he whispered in my ear.

“What are his prospects? What will he do after college? Will he play football?” Mom asks like she’s sizing him up for husband material.

“He’s Liz’s friend,” I blurt to stop her from interrogating me about Bryan as if he could be mine. “He’s a farmer,” I add, to dash her dreams into dust.

Mom raises her brows.

“Lucky Liz,” Aunt Mabel says. “He looked like a handsome one, all big and muscly like he could carry a lady over the threshold very easily.” She winks at me, and I laugh.

“You’re both incorrigible,” I say. “I’m here for an education and to get a degree for a career.”

Mom lifts one brow, compressing her mouth. “Is that why you became a cheerleader?”

She has a point.

The waitress comes by then, saving me and turning the conversation to food.

But at the back of my mind, I’m giving far too much thought to Mom’s very good question. I was a serious student at Smith, spending my time in study groups when I wasn’t tutoring.

Grades were everything then, but I was lonely.

Now I’m not. I belong on the cheerleading squad. It may have started out as a lark, but now it’s part of my life. The travel, the performing, and togetherness of the squad fills a need I didn’t realize I had.

And if I’m totally honest, sharing the football connection with Bryan means something to me.

I wonder how much I mean to him.

Chapter Twenty-Six

Bryan

By the time I get back to the apartment, hitching a ride with a freshman on the defensive line after walking half the way, I’m not surprised to find the party already started. I stayed for some ice and extra PT at Al’s recommendation.

“Man, there’s nowhere to park,” the freshman says. “You want to get out here and I’ll drive down the street to find a space?” He pulls up at the end of the driveway and stops, waiting for me to get out.

I look at him, surprised and feeling a little uncomfortable that he feels obligated to be my chauffeur. It’s true there’s a hierarchy on college football teams. In spite of all the team-bonding and all-for-one bullshit, the freshmen are still at the bottom, and seniors are still in charge. Add to that, the acknowledged star performers rise above everyone.

It’s not something I like or subscribe to, not something I take advantage of, but it’s ingrained in the nature of competitive sports. When we’re not competing against other teams, we’re competing against each other, but less obviously.

None of that makes it okay to take advantage of this freshman whose name I don’t know, but the sense of urgency to get inside when I spot Liz’s car trumps my sense of fairness and decency because it means Susie is here. And my obsession with her drives me like nothing else, except football.

“Thanks. That’s decent of you. What’s your name?”

“Zed.”

“I owe you, Zed. See you inside.”

He grins, pleased and surprised. “Sure. No problem. Happy to help.”

I’m already out of the car before he finishes gushing, feeling ashamed for the small violation of my integrity, but only for a split second as I trot past several people and push inside the front door. There’s already a wall of people to get through, but as they recognize me, I get a pass and glide through the claps on my back, the smiles, the cheers and whistles of congratulations on the way to my room.