The Cheerleader

Chapter Eighteen

Susie

After classes on Friday afternoon, I’m at my desk in the room when Liz blows in, looking upset.

“We need to drive our own cars to UNH tomorrow for the game,”

she says as she falls back onto her bed. “I stopped in to talk to Pete to find out when the buses were leaving, and he told me they were only taking one bus and the coaches were taking a van, so there won’t be room for us.”

“He doesn’t expect us to go to the game, does he?”

“No, but we are.”

She sits up, and I abandon my Differential Equations homework. She goes to the phone, pulls the receiver from the wall, dials, and stretches the long cord back to the bed.

“Keith can drive, and Nick has a car. Of course, I’ll drive. There’ll be enough room for all twelve of us plus our equipment in three cars.”

I nod, and she starts talking to Keith, explaining the situation. It sounds reasonable to me, except for where we’re going to get the money for gas. I suspect it’s coming from our pockets. If we all chip in, it shouldn’t be more than two dollars each, I think, even with gas up to almost sixty cents a gallon.

We head down to the dining room for Friday night pizza at five thirty.

“I have a meeting for a class project at eight tomorrow, so I can’t leave for the game until about nine thirty, but Nick and Keith will be leaving at eight to get there in plenty of time for pregame. They’ll call us before we leave to check in and let us know if there’s any traffic or problems.”

“It’s a three-hour drive, so we should be fine,”

I say, thinking maybe she should skip her meeting.

“I’m in charge of the project, so I have to be there, but I’ll make sure it goes fast.”

The smell of fresh-baked pizza erases my concerns, and we line up for the buffet.

Shoving the lipstick back in the drawer, I grab my pom-poms and megaphone and lift my bag over my shoulder, ready to go. Liz is right behind me as I step into the hall, and I check my watch. It’s nine forty, but we can still make it.

The phone rings. “Shit,”

Liz says, lifting the receiver from the hook on her way to the door.

“Oh no—I’m so sorry about that, Keith. Where are you exactly?”

She gets a piece of paper from her desk and starts scribbling as my stomach tenses up.

I’m thinking maybe we shouldn’t bother going to this game since the school’s athletic department doesn’t care if we miss it, but I know better than to suggest that to Liz.

She hangs up and faces me. I know that determined look.

“What happened?”

“Keith’s car broke down, and he’s at a gas station in New Hampshire on Route 125. We’re going to pick him up on our way. We should still be able to make it for kickoff if we hurry.”

“Let’s go then.”

Forgetting my previous thought to abandon the game, I decide it’s more exciting and daring to overcome our obstacles and fight on, to get there and show up for the team, unexpected.

She passes me in the hallway, and with our pom-poms and megaphones in hand, we break out in a run to the parking lot.

“They can’t accuse us of not being dedicated,”

I say, breathless.

We drive toward UNH and follow Keith’s direction to where they towed his car. I can’t help watching the clock.

“We’ll never make it,”

I say like it’s become as important to me as it is to Liz. Maybe it has.

“That’s okay. We’ll be there for the first quarter.”

“I know we have to pick them up because we can’t leave them stranded for who knows how long, but how are we going to get them to the game?” I ask.

Carol says, “I was thinking the same thing. There’ll be eight of us.”

“I know, and it’s not exactly within the rules, but I’m making an executive decision,”

Liz says. “We’re stuffing all eight of us into my car and then we’re driving like mad to UNH. Even if we miss the first quarter of the game, at least there are the four cheerleaders in the first car who can represent us until we get there.”

I nod. “It’ll work out.”

When we reach Keith’s car, the four of them pile into Liz’s car, relieved and without complaint. I’m in the front next to Liz, and Keith is on my other side. The other five cram into the back, and poor Josh is buried under two girls.

“Pedal to the metal time,”

Liz says. “We can make it.”

Keith lets out a whoop from the other side of me, and everyone in the back seat joins in the cheer. I feel the positive energy, and it gives me a lift, making the mishap feel more like an adventure than a problem.

Liz wasn’t kidding when she said she would drive fast. I’m watching the speedometer, and my heart starts pounding. Sixty. Sixty-five. Seventy. Seventy-five. Eighty. Within five minutes, I see flashing lights in the rearview mirror and clutch Liz’s leg next to me.

“Shit.”

“Oh no.”

Liz lets off the gas. She whispers, “I can’t get caught speeding again.”

She sounds truly alarmed. “Even worse, they’ll throw the book at me with so many people in this car.”

As we come to a stop at the side of the road, she faces me, upset to the point of panic.

“Susie,”

she says under her breath, “this is bad. This would be my third speeding ticket and… I have a drunk driving charge. I’ll lose my license.”

She takes a deep breath, and I know something big is coming. “Can you trade places with me?”

The instant her words are out, I know what I have to do.

“Slide under me.”

She slides under, and I slide over her, trying not to make a scene while the girls in the back block the view of the police car behind us.

“Okay, ladies, two of you stay low,”

I say. “We can still get to the game if we play it cool. Tuck down the best you can. I’m getting out to talk to the police officer at his car.”

I open the door, as everyone wishes me good luck. Smoothing down my cheerleading skirt, I hope that being a UConn cheerleader might make a positive impression as I quickly walk to the police car. Then I realize we’re making a terrible impression as representatives of UConn. Shit. I go for a contrite smile.

The officer rolls down his window, immediately yelling at me. “Do you know how fast you were driving?”

Maybe it’s the fact that I didn’t actually do the speeding that keeps me calm when I speak. “I’m so sorry, officer. I really am. We’re heading to UNH for the game, and I didn’t mean to speed.”

As he writes up the ticket, I feel like he’s taking his time.

“Will this take much longer? I really would like to make it to the game on time.”

He glares at me, and I give him my most beseeching expression, willing him to take mercy for all I’m worth.

He looks down at his paperwork and keeps writing. If he doesn’t hurry up, we’re not going to make the first quarter. When he finally finishes, I’m sure I’m not going to like what he’s going to tell me. At least he hasn’t gotten out of his car and gone over to ours.

Finally, he looks up at me and hands me the ticket. “Not only will you have a four-hundred-dollar fine, little lady, but for six months, you are not allowed to drive in New Hampshire.”

“What?”

I stutter, unsure what to think or do about that.

I hesitatingly and then ask about the most immediate problem his edict is causing. “Can I go to the game at UNH?”

He takes in a very slow breath and says, “You have until midnight to leave New Hampshire.”

I apologize again for speeding, tell him to have a good afternoon, and walk as casually as possible back to the car when all I want to do is run. I get in, start it up, and pull onto the road before he has a chance to see all of us stuffed in here.

Liz, Keith, and the others are peppering me with questions, but I block them out and concentrate on driving until the police car is out of sight.

* * *

Finally, I take a deep breath and ease up on my grip on the steering wheel. I explain about the four-hundred-dollar fine, and Liz turns pale. Everyone groans. None of us can afford that kind of extra expense.

“We’ll have the money to pay it, Liz,”

Josh says. “I’m working on setting up a movie fundraiser. Carol and I registered the cheerleaders as a student activity—the pep club—so we can do fundraising through the student activity office.”

“That’s fantastic,”

Liz reaches over the seat to try and hug him, but ends up squeezing his hand while I try to keep the car on the road.

“When do you think we can arrange it?”

I ask. I’m nervous about paying the fine and keeping it from my parents. If they find out, I’m in big trouble, especially if they find out I was covering for Liz. Mom will want me to quit cheerleading.

“I’m trying to get the movie The Cheerleaders, but I’m having trouble finding it.”

“That would be perfect,”

I say in a chorus of cheers from the others.

Except Judy. “You know that movie is X-rated?”

“That’s why we’ll make a lot of money,”

Josh says.

“Maybe if you can’t get The Cheerleader, you can get another X-rated movie,” Liz says.

“I’ll work on it,”

Josh says.

“There’s another fundraising opportunity that could make us a lot of money,”

Carol says.

“What is it?”

Liz and I both say at the same time and laugh. That relieves some of my tension. I guess we’re both worried about the $400. I should have known she wouldn’t leave me holding the bag, though I know she doesn’t have any more money than I do.

“It would be a lot of work, but there’s an opportunity to sponsor a beer fest at the ROTC hangar with two other groups. It requires a lot of labor, I hear, but I told the guy at the activities office we could handle it. He penciled us in for the spot. It’s in two weeks on a Friday night. We have a home game the next day.”

“What would we need to do?”

Judy asks.

“They already got the band and ordered the beer, so we would be selling tickets, pouring beer, and cleaning up afterwards.”

“Sounds like a late night, and we’d have to stay sober,”

Judy says.

I can’t help glancing at Liz to see her reaction, but she’s all on board.

“We should put it to a vote since everyone would need to participate,”

Liz says, “but I’m in. What’s the potential amount we could make?”

Carol grins big. “Between five hundred and a thousand dollars.”

Everyone shrieks, and I beep the horn by accident.

“I’m in too,”

I say. “I don’t care how much spilled beer I have to mop up.”

Josh blows out a whistle. “Let’s make sure we get record-breaking attendance at this one. We should put up flyers advertising that the cheerleaders are sponsoring the event.”

“You think that will matter?”

I say, appropriately skeptical.

“You bet your ass—sorry—I mean sweet ass.”

We laugh and I finally see the signs for UNH.

We jump from the car with our things and run, arriving at the game about halfway through the second quarter. Thank god at least we’re winning.

The four cheerleaders who managed without us greet us with open arms, concern, and a million questions. Liz gives them a quick version of what happened.

“Some UConn alumni who were impressed with our mini tramp stunt last week came up to us and asked why there were only a few of us. I told them you were on the way and must have had car trouble or something.”

At halftime, after we do our routine, several people ask what happened, and Judy tells the whole story about the police while Liz glares at her, and I want to hide. At least she didn’t mention that we switched places.

I’m mortified at the number of people who now know about the speeding ticket. But we put our hearts and souls into cheering the second half of the game as I try to set aside my worry about the fine.

As the game ends, perfect strangers, mostly older alumni, come up to us, saying how they heard about our car problems and let us know how sorry they are about what happened and are glad we’re okay.

Carol flags down her roommate and a friend who drove to the game and explains the situation. They agree to give her, Judy, and Sherry a ride back to campus.

Glancing at the team’s bench where the players mingle with fans, family, and media, smiling and happy, I look for Bryan. He played even better today than he did last week since his ribs have healed, according to Liz. Josh tells me running for over 120 yards is remarkable, even though he got only one touchdown.

I spot Bryan drinking water and stare a few seconds for no good reason. His uniform is stained with grass and dirt, his hair disheveled, and he has those black marks smeared across his cheeks. But he looks like a powerful dark-haired Adonis to me, statuesque with bulging muscles as he turns toward the reporter who approaches him.

“There’s Bryan,”

Liz smiles when she sees me looking his way. My face heats up, and I glance away. “I’m going to see what he’s up to after the game.”

Before I say anything, she trots in his direction but stops to talk to a couple of other guys on the way.

Beat, with every last ounce of adrenaline I had used up on the events of this day, I turn and pick up my pom-poms and megaphone and walk with Josh toward the parking lot. Sherry joins us, and finally, Liz catches up to us as we reach the car for the drive home.

“I promise I’ll take it slow,” Liz says.

When we finally get home, the last thing I want to do is go out and celebrate. After my shower, I dress in PJs and a robe and flop onto my bed. When Liz comes in from her shower and sees me, her eyes pop.

“What are you doing? Aren’t you going to the party at Fletcher’s place?”

“No parties for me tonight. I’m exhausted.”

“I know what you mean.”

She sits on the side of my bed. “You know how much I appreciate what you did for me today. I owe you so much for that. You’re such a wonderful friend, Susie. I love you.”

She leans forward and gives me a hug, and I see the brightness of tears in her eyes and feel a little prick of sentiment in mine, but I shake it off as I hug her back.

“I know, Liz. You’ve always been a good friend to me, so it’s the least I can do.”

I smile, and she rolls her eyes, unconvinced as she sniffles. “Hey, if it wasn’t for you, I wouldn’t be a cheerleader having all these fun experiences right now.”

She snorts a laugh and stands, seeming to shake it off.

“Are you sure you’re not coming? You might get a second wind.”

“I’m sure.”

I bite my tongue before I ask her if Bryan’s going to be there. He probably won’t be. But so what if he is?

I’ll see him Tuesday in class and after dinner for our tutoring session anyway.

“I hope Bryan will go. He wouldn’t commit when I asked him. But I’m thinking maybe I’ll go visit him—check up on him later—if he doesn’t show up.”

I bite my tongue again before I ask her if that’s wise after the last time she dropped in for an unannounced visit and he sent her home.

“Have fun and drive safe,”

I say instead.

“I’m not driving. I’m not tempting fate after today. Carol’s roommate is picking me up… right about now. You have sweet dreams.”

She goes to the door and blows me a kiss. “I love you, Susie.”

I know she’s not saying that to make me feel guilty—and I shouldn’t because I did her a gigantic favor today—but the way my mind—and my eyes—keep turning to Bryan, while she clearly still wants him for her boyfriend, doesn’t sit well with my conscience.

Not even when I remind myself that Bryan doesn’t feel the same way about her.

On Monday, the phone rings as I get in from class, and I answer.

“Susie, this is Robert Morse, the athletic director. I’d like you to come to my office for a meeting this afternoon with your cheerleading advisor, Pete Chenerski, and the president of UConn, Dr. Perry.”

I knew word got out about why eight of the twelve cheerleaders were late to the game, though I’m not sure how or who talked about it. My gut sinks as my heart speeds up, and I tell him I’ll be there. Shit. I should have been prepared for some major consequences, but I was hoping we could pay the fine and the incident would fade away.

Now, with shaky hands, I change into the most studious outfit I own—a navy wool skirt, white blouse, and Fair Isle cardigan sweater with knee socks and penny loafers. I’ll look out of place walking to the Field House where the offices are, but I think the university officials I’m about to meet with will appreciate the conservative clothes.

Liz comes in from class and puts her books on her desk. I’m waiting for her to notice me all dressed up, holding my breath about telling her the news about my appointment, and on the fence about asking her to come with me.

She’s taking off her jacket and stops mid-motion as she sees me, her eyes widening.

“What’s going on, Susie?”

It’s like she knows something is wrong. Probably it’s the seriously panicked look I must have on my face that clues her in.

I tell her about the call and the meeting, rushing my words because I need to leave in the next two minutes.

“I’m coming with you.”

She reaches for her jacket and pulls it on as she walks back to the door. She’s dressed in jeans and a flannel shirt, but I don’t care because I need the moral support, especially from someone who knows what really happened, not that I’m going to let her confess. I don’t want her to lose her license.

I nod, and we leave.

We’re about to go inside the field house when Liz stops short and grabs my arm to stop me.

“I’m going to tell them what really happened, that I was the one driving and asked you to switch places.”

“Don’t. What good would that do? As long as we can raise the money to cover the cost of the ticket, I’ll be fine.”

“What if they…”

She trails off and bites her lip, her brow furrowed, and I know she’s thinking they could expel me or put me on probation or something. They wouldn’t do that, would they? Not for a speeding ticket. But who knows? We’re supposed to represent the university with impeccable behavior.

“We’ll cross that bridge when we get to it.”

I’m hoping and praying like hell that they have some mercy. And I’m not much into praying, but Mr. Morse didn’t sound mean on the phone. “As my mother would say, there’s no need to borrow trouble.”

I’m already worried enough about the consequences I’m facing with the ticket and what it might do to my parents’ insurance bill, but maybe it won’t matter since it’s a New Hampshire ticket.

We go inside and find our way to the corridor where the athletic offices are.

When we find the athletic director’s office, Bryan appears from a doorway marked Exit. Shit. Liz immediately abandons me and rushes to him.

“What are you doing here?”

she asks, grasping his arm and holding on as if she’s about to fall down.

“I’m on my way to meet with the football coach.”

“What about?”

Liz brazenly questions him while I fight jitters in my stomach.

He shrugs. She whispers, but I hear her ask about his grades. “You know how it is,”

he says. They exchange one of those looks that tells me there’s still something between them in spite of what Bryan has said more than once.

“What are you doing here?”

he finally asks. I knew it was coming, but I stiffen, hoping Liz won’t say much.

“We have a meeting with the athletic director.”

I breathe a sigh of relief when she smiles, and I think that’s all she’s going to say.

But then she goes on, “We’re in some hot water for a speeding ticket.”

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.

“One more thing,”

Dr. Perry says, and I listen hard, overwhelmed by this response, emotions churning and my heart beating fast. “The alumni director said they got a request to have the cheerleaders fly to the Navy game in two weeks. He was given a sizable check by someone who is very impressed with your dedication.”

“That’s amazing,” Liz says.

“Thank you,”

I say. “I can’t believe how generous you all are, and we all appreciate it very much. I’ll have to call the alumni director and thank him too.”

“You’ve all earned it,”

Pete says. “Liz has the squad doing fantastic things. Really excellent.”

“Thank you, sir.”

Liz smiles. I don’t think I’ve ever seen her so restrained. Not in years, anyway.

We shake each of the men’s hands. “I’m grateful to you for understanding what a difficult situation we were in. I appreciate that instead of chastising me, you have been generous and kind to forgive my mistake. I promise that you can depend on the UConn cheerleaders to represent the university with pride in the future.”

As Liz and I walk out of the office, the weight of anxiety lifts, and in spite of the fact that it’s replaced by a new weight, that of responsibility, I’m smiling like a lunatic.

“Oh my god, Susie!”

Liz shouts as soon as we’re outside. She starts bouncing like we’re at a game and the team just scored a touchdown. “We’re going to the Navy game—to Annapolis, Maryland. In two weeks. I’ve never flown on a plane before!”

Her voice reaches such a high pitch that I feel her excitement like my own.