Chapter Twenty
Susie
“Hold my hand,”
Liz says, squeezing my fingers until they feel like they’re going to snap. I put my other hand over hers to get her to ease up.
“It’ll be okay.”
“Easy for you to say. This isn’t your virgin flight.”
I chuckle and then flinch as the plane suddenly gains speed on the runway, signaling that takeoff is imminent. I can’t believe we’re on our way to the Navy game on a chartered flight.
“No, but my tummy is tumbling around anyway, doing back flips you’d be proud of.”
She laughs, then hiccups and giggles as the plane lifts off and angles upward.
“Oh my god.”
She strangles my entire arm. “I think I might throw up.”
“You’ll be fine,”
I whisper, hoping she’ll lower her voice and hoping she’s exaggerating about her nausea. I pluck the white air-sickness bag from the seat back pocket in front of us and hand it to her in case.
Liz manages to hold onto her breakfast, and thank god the flight is only an hour and a half. We parade onto the waiting buses and then arrive at the hotel in Annapolis, MD, in no time while Liz regains her vitality.
We check in and meet in Liz’s room—which Carol, Sherry, and I share with her—where she deals out our spending money for the trip.
“We each get ten dollars for tonight and tomorrow. It has to cover dinner and breakfast.”
“Don’t forget to save some spending money for tonight,”
Carol says. “I saw the sign at the lounge advertising a band playing tonight. We should check that out.”
“Absolutely,”
Liz says, enthusiasm vibrating from her, telling me she’s back to normal.
“What do we do between now and dinner?”
Judy asks.
“How about if we find a package store and have some cocktails?” Liz says.
“The drinking age in Maryland is twenty-one,”
I say, “and we don’t have a car.”
Liz absorbs what I’ve said for a second and then grins. “Carol is twenty-one and… I’m sure we can find a ride if we go down to the valet area.”
Shock silences me, interrupting whatever else I was going to think, because this is bold even for Liz.
Keith, Carol, and Judy are particularly excited about the plan, and it works. Two hours later, in our room, which turns out to be the party room, unsurprisingly, we’re drinking dirty bananas—Crème de Banana, Crème de Cocoa, and vodka—and white Russians and eating peanuts and chips.
Judy opens the window. “Look, there’s Dane Eldridge,” she says.
I join her, Liz, and Sherry at the window, leaning enough to see him out front in the parking lot.
“Come on up for cocktails!”
Liz shouts.
To his credit, Dane laughs and waves, but doesn’t show signs of running up here.
Below us, a couple of heads appear out their window, turned up to look at us.
“Hey there.”
It’s Mack and another guy from the defensive line whose name I don’t know.
“Good luck tomorrow!” I shout.
“What are you girls up to?”
“We’re partying. Come on up and join us.”
Liz rattles off our room number for anyone within a mile to hear. I cringe at the way her voice carries.
“Liz,”
I whisper-shout. “Don’t blast our room number for everyone.”
She laughs. “Don’t worry. We have enough booze for a crowd.”
“Can’t do it,”
Mack yells. “We’re under lock and key.”
I notice Dane head back inside.
“What about Dane?” I ask.
“He left something in the bus. Even he’s not crazy enough to cheat on curfew.”
“Curfew already?”
I ask, then I check my watch and realize it’s already six thirty. Shit. We haven’t eaten dinner, and no one’s showing any signs of simmering down the party.
At least we’re drinking something other than beer. I take another sip of my dirty banana. It’s yummy, and I’m feeling buzzed, but not out of control.
The guys disappear from the window suddenly as if someone’s reeled them in.
“Hey, where’d they go?”
Liz says, then drains her glass. They have real glass glasses at this place—a Sheraton—as opposed to the motel I stayed at when I visited friends at Smith last semester. Smith seems so far away from my world now; it feels like the girl that went there was a different person. The old Susie Bennett.
“I hope they didn’t get in trouble,” I murmur.
“No,”
Judy says, frowning. “I bet it was Bryan Granger who yelled at them to get inside. He’s the team’s official party pooper—according to Fletcher.”
She stares at me as if I’m somehow an accomplice. Or maybe she’s daring me to disagree.
My first instinct is to stick up for him, but I bite my tongue, still sober enough not to be drawn into a disagreement and not to give away my feelings in front of Liz. I’m still worried that someone may have seen Bryan kiss me at the beer fest—besides Josh.
I know I can trust him to not gossip. But even though I’m friends with everyone else and feel a bond, a kinship of spirit and mission, I don’t know if I can trust anyone else when it comes to keeping things from Liz. Especially not Judy. We would stand up for each other when it comes to outsiders, but within our group, everyone seems to be very open. I feel like I’m holding out on them, but maybe Liz is too.
Keith gets us more snacks from the lobby shop because after paying for the liquor, it’s decided that we don’t have enough for dinner at the hotel restaurant, especially since everyone, including me, wants to go to the lounge for dancing later.
We change our clothes and go downstairs to the lounge together at around eight, which may be early, but Liz insists we need a good night’s sleep, so she’s imposing a ten o’clock curfew. I’m not so sure she’d normally be up to imposing it, except that none of us have enough money for more than one or two drinks.
The lounge is empty when we get there, so the band is happy to see us and they're happy to play whatever we ask for. We get to business dancing an impromptu routine to the Doobie Brothers' “Old Black Water”
with the entire dance floor to ourselves. It’s not super large, but there’s only twelve of us, and the dance floor might hold another dozen people if they were here.
After more songs than I can count, I take a break to get some ice water. A few of the others join me, including Liz, but they order drinks.
“Well, look who’s here,”
Liz says, grinning as she takes her tall glass of something strong-looking—definitely not a dirty banana.
I turn to see who she’s waving at, and my mouth falls open. The UConn football coaches parade into the lounge and take a seat at a table. Liz quickly goes over to say hello, and I trail behind her out of habit, with Carol and Judy.
They’re not as surprised to see us as we are to see them, and I’m relieved they seem to have no intentions of playing chaperone. I’m more than surprised, more than shocked, when Liz invites Coach Morse to dance—and he accepts. Dismay is too light a word.
Carol whispers to me. “That girl has more balls than a basketball team.”
She’s smiling, and I laugh, nodding in agreement.
“It seems to work for her,”
I say, not saying that I hope it keeps working because it feels like she’s walking a tightrope between acceptable and unacceptable behavior. And that’s a line that’s more than wobbly these days and very subject to differing opinions.
Carol rejoins the dancing, and I stay on the sidelines with Josh and a few others, sipping my ice water and waiting to get a second wind.
“Don’t look now,”
Josh says, “but we have some new guys joining the party.”
I turn and—holy shit—my heart goes boom, then stutters into overdrive. Bryan is standing in the doorway, flanked by several teammates including Dane, Mack, and Lenny.
Bryan meets my stare, and I feel it like his eyes are flamethrowers.
Which doesn’t explain why I feel compelled to go to him like he’s some kind of psychic drawing me in by mental telepathy.
“Why are you standing in the doorway? The party is inside.”
I’m teasing because he’s never inclined to party, and right now he looks more like he wants to punch someone.
“We have a curfew.”
“Then what are you doing here?”
Dane stands behind him, grinning over his shoulder. “Yeah, Bryan. What are we doing here?”
Bryan elbows him in the gut, and Dane punches his shoulder, and the other guys snicker.
“The coaches weren’t around, so we came to find them.”
“You found them.”
I turn and notice Coach Morse glaring in our direction from the dance floor. “Coach doesn’t look happy.”
“Go back up to your rooms,”
Bryan says to his teammates.
“What about you?”
Dane says.
“Someone’s got to answer to Coach.”
That wipes away Dane’s smile. He grunts, and he and the others disappear back down the hallway to the elevators.
“What are you really doing here?”
“Checking up on Liz.”
He nods a chin in her direction, where she’s still dancing with Coach. I’d swear she’s trying to keep him distracted, to keep him from coming over to scold Bryan.
“She’s good.”
A small part of me deflates in disappointment as if I’d hoped he was here to see me, but even if he was, I doubt he’d admit it. I’m not sure how long Liz is good for since she switched to straight vodka, but if no one lends her money or buys one for her, she can’t afford another.
“How drunk is she?”
“You’re blunt.”
He waits me out.
“I don’t know. She was buzzed but okay when we came down?—”
“You were drinking in your rooms.”
I nod and smile. “We have no restrictions, no chaperone.”
I turn to glance at the dance floor and notice Coach Morse excusing himself and heading our way. “Shit.”
“Watch out for Liz,”
he says under his breath and steps around me to meet Coach head-on.
I murmur something about returning to the dance floor and leave them to have their discussion without trying to hear what Coach is saying because it’s going to be harsh.
Amazingly, Liz is the first one up in the morning, even though we were up last night till eleven thirty. I’m right behind her. Soon the whole squad is dressed in our uniforms and ready to take the bus to the field at the Naval Academy.
“Do you think they’d let us have a tour of the campus?”
I ask as we stow our luggage under the bus, climb on, and take our seats at the front as instructed.
“I didn’t think to ask,” Liz says.
I whisper, “That vodka drink didn’t bother you at all, did it?”
This is the first time I’ve had a chance to speak to her alone, and I can’t help my concern.
She grins. “I only had one of those. Of course not.”
“But you had the other drinks before?—”
She waves a hand. “Those were made with liqueurs. That’s baby stuff. I wanted to talk to you about this tradition I heard they have at Navy football games.”
She glances around like it’s some big secret. “I heard their mascot takes a cheerleader from the opposing team and passes her up the stands to the cadets.”
My eyes go wide, and I immediately dismiss the outlandish rumor. “That sounds crazy. No way they’d get away with that.”
I give a little laugh. “Can you imagine?”
She giggles. “You’re probably right.”
I was wrong.
Two cadets, one dressed as Superman and one dressed as a gorilla, trot across the field toward our lineup during the team’s warmup. They go to the short end of the line and, standing in front of Sherry, they gesture to her and look toward the opposite side of the field where the cadets, dressed in full uniform, fill the stands.
They clap and hoot, and when they quiet down, the mascots move to the next girl in line and eventually get to me. The cadets cheer like mad and stand, waving towels or something, going crazy. We’re all watching and looking at each other for answers.
“Josh, any idea what they’re doing?”
“I have an idea, but?—”
The Superman and gorilla return to me, and the Superman says, “Don’t worry. No one’s going to hurt you.”
My heart immediately spikes into my throat, then hammers like I swallowed a bottle of speed pills, and before I can ask what he’s talking about, they get on either side of me and lift me. Cradling me between them like I’m sitting in a chair, they rush me across the field.
“Shit.”
I try calming down, and as I pass by our team doing their warmups, Bryan turns around and sees me. His face goes stony, but the mascots are fast, and they get me to the stands, then lift me.
“What are you doing?”
“Don’t worry. Just relax and have fun.”
The cadet dressed as Superman smiles as he heaves me overhead and passes me into the raised arms of the first row of cadets.
They’re all cheering as I get passed up the stands, but before I reach the top, I manage to slip from someone’s arms who kindly lets me go. I scurry back down the stairs like I’m about to be executed. My heart booms like a kettle drum in my chest as the cadets cheer and clap, and the two mascots meet me at the bottom of the stands. They escort me as I dash back across the field to safety, glancing at our players still doing warmups.
Bryan stops what he’s doing and turns to me. “Are you okay?”
I nod and smile for the first time since my capture, realizing I am okay. When I reach our squad, the girls are mid-routine, so I jump into the lineup as if nothing ever happened.
At the end of the game, Josh says, “Your kidnapping was the most exciting thing that happened at this game.”
Exhausted and hot, I glance at the scoreboard. Fifty-two to seven. It was a horrible game, and I can’t imagine how the team feels. After a quick change in the ladies’ room, we take the buses directly to the airport, and there’s nothing but low murmurs in the back. I don’t know what to say to Bryan when he brushes by me, head down, so I say nothing.
Liz touches his hand, and I see him flinch, but he keeps going without looking at her.
On the plane, Liz falls asleep within ten minutes, but I can’t. There’s still too much leftover energy in me, like I’m an engine that refuses to idle. Bryan is sitting with Dane two rows behind us across the aisle, and I can’t resist peeking at him when the stewardess comes by with drinks and snacks.
He’s resting, eyes closed and his seat back. He has a right to be tired. He got the only touchdown for UConn, the only bright spot that came at the beginning of the second half when the score was already thirty-five to nothing. He gave us a spark of hope, but it was short-lived.
After I drink my Coke, I decide to go to the restroom, though, strictly speaking, I don’t need to. I know I’m being ridiculous, but I want to walk by Bryan. Say something to him, anything that might console him. Stupid me. I need to get my vision of him as that vulnerable little boy out of my head because he’s not that boy anymore.
He’s a much more dangerous man-sized version of him. And someone I have no business having a soft spot for.
I stand and head for the back of the plane. But to prove to myself I’m not pathetic, I don’t say anything to Bryan. I don’t even look at him. I barely nod when Dane says hello to me. I keep going. It’s good to stretch my legs.
When I come out of the closet-sized bathroom, Bryan is standing there. The stewardesses are at the front of the plane talking, so there’s a space behind the restroom that’s empty. He slides around the corner and pulls me with him.
“Have you thought about me, princess?”
“You mean have I thought about sleeping with you?”
He grins. Of all the times and places I might expect him to grin, this isn’t it. I frown. Maybe I’m trying to keep us in balance because I feel very off-balance with him.
“I mean,”
he says, his voice deep and rough, disturbing any sense of control I thought I had, “have you thought about what we’ll do in bed when we’re not sleeping?”
His mouth is close to my ear, and I can’t help shivering as I glance around the corner to the front of the plane. The stewardesses are still there. No one else is in the aisle heading our way. For the moment.
“Are you crazy? We’re on a plane. And besides, you have no right to say things like that to me?—”
He laughs. “You said it, princess.”
I’m stunned that he’s laughing—at me—and horrified that he’s right. Sort of.
I pull away from him and walk back down the aisle, wishing I could run, and take my seat next to Liz.
“What did Bryan have to say?” she asks.
Shit. She knows he followed me back there. My conscience rears up, threatening to strangle me, making it hard to speak. There’s no accusation in her voice, no hint of anything but curiosity. I take a deep breath.
“Nothing. He was asking about the gorilla and the Superman, making some kind of wisecrack.”
I totally make up a wild fib with too little trouble, and that makes my conscience double up on twisting my gut into a knot that lasts the entire way home.
When we get off the plane, I don’t look back, swearing I’m going to avoid Bryan Granger for the rest of this trip. For the rest of the season and the semester and the whole year.
Except for English comp class and tutoring. Shit.