Page 124 of The Cheerleader

I arrive at class at the last possible minute and take my seat next to Bryan with awkward reluctance. It’s our last week, and that’s the good news and the bad news. He looks up as I open my notebook to a clean page.

He gives me a slight nod of acknowledgment before Professor Yardly starts talking. Class is all about prepping for the final exam. We have a blue book exam, which is going to be an essay on our choice of one of three topics.

Bryan has a lot riding on the final, although he’s quiet about it. He’s quiet about everything. Not even Liz or Eldy know what’s going on with his NFL prospects. If I put on my armchair analyst hat, that’s what I think is bothering him most right now.

Unless he has other things going on that I don’t know about, which is entirely possible.

He doesn’t say a word to me or communicate with more than a nod when I ask him a question, so when class ends, the need to reach him overwhelms my common sense.

I don’t want to let him go. I want to know if we have something worth risking our friendship with Liz for, even if it means losing my heart and a world of pain in the process.

“I hear Fletcher is having a party. Are you going?” I’m trailing him out the door when he turns to me and gives me a look that says you know the answer—or maybe he’s saying it’s beneath you to ask stupid questions. No, that’s what I’m telling myself.

We get outside, and he’s about to take off, so I put a hand on his arm. “Wait.”

He stops and turns to me, his eyes wary, and he waits while I watch the white puffs coming from our mouths as our breath hits the cold air.

“Are you in a hurry for a reason?” I ask.

He doesn’t answer me. He’s waiting for me to say what I have to say. But I’m coming up blank because everything on my mind is too much for a conversation in the middle of the quad with people coming and going. It’s the kind of conversation that might end up with me in tears. Not what I’m looking for.

I don’t know what I’m looking for, except to reconnect with him, and I seem to have lost the ability, or more like he’s erected a wall so high it’s impossible for me to scale without getting seriously hurt.

He looks away from me, and my nerves light up with urgency to say something, anything.

“There’s a Christmas party. Fletcher’s party. They’re having it the last day of finals, so everyone can go.”

“They live in a fucking summer cottage with no insulation and no heat. They’re throwing the party and inviting as many people as possible for the body heat.”

My eyebrows go up. “Congratulations. You win first prize in the Grinch contest.”

I see the tiniest reaction in the form of him compressing his lips like he’s holding in a snort or maybe even a laugh. My heart flutters because I care too much in spite of all the cold logic telling me I shouldn’t.

“You stopped me because you wanted to give me sass about a so-called Christmas party?” He dares me to tell him the real reason.

“I wanted to talk to you, to… clear the air⁠—”

“There’s no need. Class will be over in a week. The semester will be over. No more waitering, no more tutoring. No more football. No more us.”

My mouth opens and hangs there as my heart thuds in a heavy drum. His words are depressing and final, but they make no sense. And I’m not accepting whatever he’s trying to say.

“What the hell, Bryan? Is your life over too? Your life isn’t that bad that it deserves all this doom and gloom.” I scold him, almost shouting. One or two people turn and look as he takes me by the arm and pulls me aside, out of the path onto the frozen dirt and grass.

“You don’t⁠—”

“What? I don’t know about all your horrible problems? Or are you one of those people who hates Christmas on general principle? You⁠—”

“Shut up, Susie.” His voice is softer than his words. ‘None of the above.”

I heave out a sigh because he looks so sad, and I remember how broken he is and how I thought I could make a difference somehow, comfort him, save him from himself. But I can’t, and I hate feeling so helpless.

“I’m sorry I yelled at you. I have no right.”

“You know what my worst problem is?”

An inexplicable zap of nerves makes me vibrate, turning my tummy over.

“You are my worst problem.”