Page 73 of The Cheerleader

Horrified, I interrupt her before she says more. “Liz, we need to get going.”

She ignores me. “Will you come with us to the meeting?”

He stares at her for the longest breath, then he nods. “If that’s what you need.”

“Won’t that look odd?” I say, surprised by Liz’s poor judgment. “Besides, we have each other for moral support.”

“I’ll do whatever you want,” he says. He’s looking at me when he says it, though I’m sure his words are meant for Liz. They must be. His voice is the same gruff sound that causes a vibration low in my stomach and somehow makes my heart flip in my chest. What I wouldn’t give to have him—I mean any guy—to say those words to me. I’ll do whatever you want.

“Wait for us,” Liz says.

He nods.

“Don’t you have practice or something?”

“Weights. I can be late.”

I know that means he’ll throw off his schedule because he has all his time accounted for with very little wiggle room for spontaneity except on the weekends and after ten at night. It’s been hard enough for him to fit in tutoring sessions.

“Don’t wait,” I say. “We’ll be fine.” I stare him down, trying to convince him with my eyes to do what I ask and ignore Liz’s request. I know I’m interfering, but the urge to impose sanity on the situation is too strong.

He doesn’t respond.

Liz says, “We should go.”

Bryan walks away down the hall, and I knock on the office door.

When we enter, the somberness of the three distinguished-looking men, even Pete, makes my stomach knot up, and I almost stop. Liz squeezes my hand.

“Please have a seat. I’m Dr. Perry.”

I nod, and Pete speaks up. “This is Susie Bennett and Liz McNeil. Liz is the captain of the cheerleading squad.”

“I’m glad you both came. You know Pete, and this is Mr. Morse, the athletic director.”

Even Mr. Morse’s smile doesn’t loosen the grip of tension in my belly, like I’m waiting to walk the plank. I wish I were blindfolded and knocked out so I could get this over with without having to experience it.

But as I look around, I notice even Dr. Perry is smiling now, and I force myself to straighten my spine, metaphorically, since it’s already straight and stiff as a lightning rod.

“As I said on the phone, we heard about your plight getting to the UNH game⁠—

I interject, needing to get my guilt off my chest. “I am truly sorry⁠—”

Before I can finish, they stand in unison, and I gasp in surprise at the interruption. Liz, unusually quiet, squeezes my hand so hard that I think I can hear my bones crunching.

Dr. Perry speaks first. “No, please, we want you to know that we are truly sorry. You should never have been in the position of making decisions about how to get to out-of-town games with your own vehicles.” The others nod, and he goes on. “It was UConn alumni fans who informed us that a car carrying cheerleaders broke down on the way to UNH and that you were pulled over and fined after picking them up. With the alumni director’s encouragement, when the three of us met, we decided that from now on the cheerleaders will be assigned campus State of Connecticut cars for all away games, for both football and basketball.”

I let out a breath even as confusion has me knitting my brows, trying to adjust to the absolute opposite reaction I was expecting from these men. Liz doesn’t blink. Her smile pops immediately.

“Thank you,” she breathes out the words.

Pete says, “The UConn cheerleaders have shown their dedication and loyalty to UConn, and it’s time for UConn to be in solidarity with them.”

Mr. Morse says, “Susie, when we heard about the four-hundred-dollar speeding ticket and your banishment from New Hampshire for thirty days, we thought it was excessive and wanted to do something about it.”

I hold my breath, and in a measured and calm voice, Mr. Morse goes on, “We spoke with the governor of New Hampshire and informed him of our error in judgment regarding having our cheerleaders use their own automobiles for UConn events. He agreed to grant forgiveness of the speeding ticket and your thirty-day banishment, as if this had never happened. We were prepared to pay this ticket on your behalf if the New Hampshire governor did not agree to ask the court to drop the charges. Please accept our sincere apology.”

The men all murmur their regret, and to my surprise, they tell us to let them know of any future problems.