Page 3 of The Cheerleader

“Don’t lie to me. You must have gotten a scholarship at least partly because you’re smart—the smartest one in the class.”

“I’m so glad you’re here now.”

I’m surprised to see the twinkle of unshed tears in her eyes, and whatever trepidation I had about rekindling our friendship disappears. A deep gnawing longing to have our friendship back tugs at me. Liz might still be troubled, but I’m an adult now, and whatever trouble she has, I can handle.

Liz seems stronger than ever and looks like she’s doing fine on her own. Away from her father. At least on the surface.

The idea that I owe her something sneaks into my head. But I’m not going back there, not going to examine the whys and hows and worries of our adolescent past.

We start walking again, and she loops an arm through mine. “How are your parents? How’s the professor?”

I laugh at her old nickname for my dad from when he used to help us with algebra homework in seventh grade.

“He’s good.” My insides tighten up because my answer to her perfectly innocent question is a lie. Does it make me a terrible friend to hold back on baring my family’s problems?

No. Family first, right?

“Dad’s his usual wonderful self. Same with Mom.” I deliver the incomplete story, the one that barely skims the surface of reality and is usually reserved for acquaintances, not close friends. Not that I have any close friends.

It hits me that Liz was the last really close, secret-sharing friend I had. Not even my ex-boyfriend Todd was good for soul-baring talks.

No wonder I’ve felt so detached, almost forlorn. Especially since I left Smith. My friends there weren’t close, but at least we shopped and talked about school and the world.

It’s a good thing I’m close to my mom and Aunt Mabel, or I’d be certifiable. Though I can only talk to them about so much.

Liz tilts her head and gives me a funny smile, then she stops walking and says, “I heard your dad was laid off from Hamilton Standard.” Her voice is quiet and full of empathy.

Surprise and a touch of embarrassment makes me stumble. “He… yes. He was. But⁠—”

She pats my arm. “I know he’ll get another great engineering job before you know it. If I were you, I wouldn’t worry at all. He’s a wonderful man with a lot to offer.”

Her words give me an instant boost because they’re true, and I give her a grateful smile for the reminder. With her usual good humor, Liz walks with energy as we approach an ancient-looking brick building with high windows and oversized double wooden doors.

“Why did you transfer to UConn?” Her expression holds a smile, but there’s a crease of curiosity in her forehead, and maybe something more in her eyes—maybe concern.

Holding off the bubble of panic, I shrug. This is Liz. “Money. The tuition is a lot cheaper at UConn.”

Her face brightens. “Plus, UConn is bigger and has a lot more going on than Smith. What are you majoring in?”

Bad subject. This is the sore spot, the one thing truly bothering me, my biggest dilemma. “I’m registered as an Engineering major. Dad insisted. He wants to make sure I can get a decent job when I graduate.” He said he wanted to make sure the investment of tuition was worthwhile, but those words are too painful to repeat because they made me feel like a burden. Still, it feels good to share some things with Liz.

“That’s very smart. Good choice.”

“Practically speaking, it is.”

“But?”

“I don’t know. I’d much rather be a teacher.” I take a breath and face her, looking for support from her for my renegade attitude.

She laughs. “You always had a soft spot for helping other kids with math. But your dad’s right. You need to look out for yourself. Engineering pays way better.”

Disappointment comes and goes as I brush off her comment. “You’re no help.”

Liz laughs. “It’s not the worst thing to be an engineer like your dad.” She smiles. She’s always idolized him. I can’t blame her because her own dad was no role model.

“Maybe.” But even as I say the word, my soul rebels and determination to be a teacher surfaces. The air in my metaphoric balloon presses hard for escape, making my head ache.

“You know what the best part of being at UConn over Smith is?” she says. “More guys.” She elbows me, grinning, and I laugh, releasing some pressure. She’s exactly what I need to escape all the pressure and disruption that brought me here.