Page 93 of The Cheerleader

“Naturally—”

“Would you sell the house? Maybe you could rent it.”

“I don’t know if we’d be able to afford that. Houses in California cost a lot more than in Connecticut… and we’ve spent most of our savings. But don’t tell your dad I told you.”

“I won’t,” I say as my head spins until I feel nausea rise like I’m on one of those dizzying twirly rides at the amusement park that always made me sick as a child.

“We’ve gone through most of our savings.” Mom volunteers more financial information than I asked for, almost like she needs to share it with someone. I hear the anxiety in her voice, so tight and fast. I wish she wasn’t sharing so much, but if she needs to talk about it, the least I can do is listen. No matter how sick it makes me to hear about it. I’m not a child anymore.

Mom is worried and afraid under her sunny exterior, and I need to do my best to comfort her.

“I bet the houses are nicer, and they all have pools,” I say. “And you know Dad—it won’t take him long to move up the ladder to get a raise and a promotion.”

She laughs, and it sounds genuine. “Oh Susie, I love you. And you’re right—though he doesn’t have the job yet, so we can’t count on anything.”

Before I can think of what to say to that mixed warning, her sunny exterior returns.

“I’m looking forward to seeing you tomorrow and going to the homecoming game. It’s been ages since I’ve been to a football game.”

I bite my lip, wondering if I’m a bad daughter because a part of me doesn’t want her to come. I don’t want her to see Liz, to find out that we’re best friends again. I don’t want to have to defend Liz to her. I don’t want to be disloyal and not defend Liz.

I’ve been hiding too many things from too many people, being dishonest with Mom in the name of privacy. Pretending things are fine when they’re not in the name of being optimistic. Most of all, hiding that I have feelings for Bryan from Liz. Shit.

“Are you sure you want to come without Dad? I’ll come home one day next week after class for a visit and skip my morning classes the next day.”

“Nonsense. Of course I’m coming. Your Aunt Mabel is very excited about the whole thing. I haven’t seen you in forever, and she’s looking forward to getting out for a change and seeing you.”

“I’m… not sure what kind of tickets I can get for you. Everyone on the squad wants tickets for this game.” Not a complete lie. I haven’t even asked Pete for the tickets yet, so I have no idea where the seats will be. One more thing for my guilt to pile up until I feel like a terrible daughter.

“Don’t worry, Susie. We’ll be fine wherever we sit. The main thing is that I get to see my daughter cheer.”

A rush of longing rises against my crushing guilt, and the part of me is glad I’ll be seeing my mother in spite of my misgivings. Ignoring the worries about Liz and my dad’s new job and California, I resign myself to make the best of it and embrace my mom and dad and everything that goes with our financial circumstances and to embrace who Liz really is.

“Here’s Dad,” Mom says. “Let me put him on the phone. He only has a few minutes. Love you, Susie.”

Liz comes in the door as Dad gets on the phone, ending my privacy. I stiffen my back.

She mouths, Who is it?

Instead of answering her, I say into the phone, “Hi, Dad.”

Liz smiles and says loud enough for him to hear her, “Hi, Professor. How are you doing? I miss your tutoring. Big hug.”

Dad laughs in my ear as Liz goes to her bed, opening a fat notebook with a pen in hand to work on whatever she needs to do to keep all the balls in the air above her head.

“Is that Liz McNeil?”

“Yes. Mom says you have a promising interview in California,” I keep my voice quiet and turn away from Liz, letting the phone cord curl as I step to where the phone hangs on the wall.

“Yes, my second one for this job. I feel good about my chances.” His voice is bright, and I don’t detect any cracks in his cautious optimism, so I smile.

“Of course you’ll get it. They’d be crazy not to hire you.”

“I think you’re right. But enough about me. What about you, Susie Q? How are your engineering classes going?”

My insides swirl around with nerves about telling him. I met with my advisor this week and officially made the changed from the School of Engineering to education. I know engineering would get me a better paying job, and I know Dad’s not going to like this. But I’m prepared for the consequences. Or at least that’s what I’m telling myself as I take some deep breaths. Because I’m committed to being a teacher. It’s who I am, what I’ll be happiest doing.

On some level, I know how impractical it is. My advisor said there aren’t a lot of teaching jobs, and I’d need to go to grad school to be competitive. But the more she tried to discourage me, the more I dug in my heels. In the end, she signed off on the change from engineering to education, and I felt happy accomplishing that, about making my own decision.