The Best Friend (14 page)

“Are you enjoying being a cheerleader?”

Lishia looked up from where she was washing her hands to see Michelle Parkington gazing at her in the mirror. “I guess so.” Lishia forced a weak smile.

“You look great in the uniform.”

Lishia locked eyes with Michelle and without even thinking, spoke her mind. “Do you wish it was you instead of me?”

Michelle pushed a long strand of dark hair over her shoulder. “I did at first . . . but I'm okay.”

Lishia dried her hands, ready to leave, wishing she hadn't asked.

“Amanda really thought I was first alternate,” Michelle said wistfully. “I suppose that got my hopes up. And everyone thought I did pretty good last spring at tryouts. But I guess they were wrong.”

“Would you have been able to do it—I mean, if you really had been first alternate? Would you have qualified for cheerleading?”

Michelle's brow creased. “Sure, why not?”

Lishia shrugged.

“Anyway, you looked pretty good at your first game.” She giggled. “Well, a lot better than you did at the pep assembly, that is.”

“Ugh, don't remind me. I was terrible last week.”

“I'm sure it'll get easier for you,” Michelle said kindly. “Just give it time.”

Lishia wanted to question Michelle further, to find out why there had been rumors going around that she had problems and that she never would've made the cut. But then Lishia remembered who told her those things to start with: Riley, the one who pulled all the strings. Naturally, she could spin a story any way she liked. Whatever suited her agenda—and she always had one.

“Ready for practice?” Riley asked her as they met in the locker bay to get their coats. The cheerleaders were having a last-minute practice to work on the dance routine after Amanda had changed some moves.

“Sure.” Lishia made her usual smile, which was feeling more and more plastic.

“It's nice to see you made such a solid comeback this week,” Riley said as they walked to the girls' gym. “I told you the teasing would subside after a day or two . . . If you ignore that stuff, it usually goes away.”

“Well, I still find it hard to ignore Brandon.” Lishia could hear the bitter edge in her voice. But that was because someone in art class had made a derogatory comment today, warning her to watch her alcohol intake after the game tonight. Sure, she had laughed it off. But then the girl had acted pseudo-sympathetic, insinuating that Lishia had gotten wasted to get Todd's attention.

“What's up with Brandon now?” Riley asked with irritation.

“It's the way he spread those lies about me. I mean, he knew exactly what was going on that night, and then he goes and makes this crud up.”

“He's just trying to get attention.” Riley looked irritated now.

“It's a pretty disgusting way to get attention.” She frowned at Riley. “And I have to say, it's a little disturbing that you still consider him your friend.”

“Oh, Brandon is harmless.”

“Harmless?” Lishia felt her anger rising again. “He goes around telling everyone that I stole a bottle of Vanessa's parents' vodka, stashed it in my purse, then took it outside and drank the whole thing just to get over Todd.”

Riley laughed. “No one really believes all that, Lishia.”

“But why did he say it? It's a bald-faced lie.”

“Brandon's just a clown. Like I said, he thrives on attention. So he spins a silly tale. Big deal.”

“Would it be a big deal if he spun a tale like that about
you
?”

Riley's mouth twisted to one side. “Come on, Lishia. You need to learn to stop taking everything so seriously. You need to laugh at yourself more. Lighten up, girlfriend.”

Lishia wanted to point out that Riley never laughed at herself, but they were entering the gym now. Time to put on her happy cheerleader act again, but Lishia could tell it was all wearing a bit thin. More and more, she felt like a pot was bubbling inside of her, like someday it was going to boil over and burn everyone and everything anywhere near it. How could she keep up this act?

L
ishia knew better than to complain about her position in the pyramid at halftime—always at the bottom, even though she was one of the smaller girls. She knew it was purely symbolic. So she would bend over and bear the weight of the other cheerleaders, their feet and knees digging into her back and shoulders, and smile with gritted teeth. She didn't complain because she felt it was what she deserved. Even so, she did not believe she deserved to be bullied by Riley. Really, a girl could only take so much.

Toward the end of the basketball game, Lishia had reached her limit with her so-called best friend. It was like Riley kept pushing her, nagging her, and belittling her—as if it was a game and she wanted to see how much Lishia could take.

“That's enough,” Lishia said finally.

“What?” Riley blinked innocently. “What's wrong?”

“I'm sick of being bossed by you, Riley. Stop telling me what to do. I'm not your puppet.”

Riley laughed.

“I mean it.” Lishia narrowed her eyes. “Back off!” She moved herself to the other end of the lineup, taking a place beside Krista, who tossed her a questioning look but went on cheering just the same.

“I needed a break from Riley,” she quietly told Krista between cheers.

Krista gave her a knowing nod. For the rest of the game, Lishia enjoyed a much more peaceful position in the lineup. However, she knew Riley would be mad because she was on the end now—and Riley hated being on the end. If she had her way, she'd be in the middle.

As soon as the game ended (another loss), Lishia pulled out her phone and called Mom, hoping to get a ride home. But her call went straight to voice mail. Instead of leaving a message, she hung up. Fearing that Riley was heading her way and probably on the warpath, Lishia streaked off toward the bathroom, hoping to get lost in the crowd, which wasn't easy considering her purple-and-white uniform.

“What's your hurry?”

Lishia looked over her shoulder to see Gillian peering curiously at her. Lishia had just cut in front of her in the bathroom line. “Sorry,” she said. “Were you waiting for the restroom?” There were at least a dozen standing outside the bathroom, probably at least that many inside. Really, it was hopeless.

“No, I was just trying to get out of here.”

“Me too,” Lishia said suddenly, pushing her way through the line and walking with Gillian. She had no idea why she was doing this or where she was going, but it felt like a good escape.

“Where's Riley?” Gillian asked as they exited the building with a bunch of others. “I thought you two were connected at the hip.”

Lishia grimaced. “I was actually running away from her.” She couldn't believe she'd just admitted that to Gillian—considering everything, it seemed like a slightly irrational thing to do. But maybe that was what anger did to a person.

Gillian threw back her head and laughed. Her eyes twinkled and her ponytail shook. She had on her letterman jacket, and if one didn't look too closely, she could easily be confused with a cheerleader.

“So, how are you doing?” Lishia asked in a friendly voice.

“Just great.” Gillian rolled her eyes as her tone grew sarcastic. “Life is just peachy. I go to treatment, make amends. Lovely.”

“Sorry. If it makes you feel any better, I would gladly trade places with you.”

Gillian looked skeptical. “Yeah, right. I'll bet you would.”

“I honestly think I would,” Lishia admitted.

“Well, I know the cheerleader games and politics can be a nasty little rat race sometimes,” Gillian admitted. “I guess I don't miss that.”

“Hey,” Lishia glanced over her shoulder. “Do you have time to talk?”

“I thought we
were
talking.”

Lishia's eyes darted from side to side, hoping that Riley or the others hadn't spotted her with Gillian. “Do you have a car?”

“Sure.”

“Can you give me a ride?”

“I'm not going to Allegro's, if that's what you mean.” Gillian firmly shook her head. “I'm not ready for that yet.”

“I'm not either. How about we go grab a coffee or soda or something?”

Gillian looked suspicious now. “Why?”

“There's something important I need to ask you about, okay? It's kind of private.”

She shrugged. “I guess I don't have anything to lose—not anymore, anyway.”

As soon as they were in the car, Lishia began to apologize. It all came jumbling out in a slightly incoherent way. “I was so rude to you that night at the party. I still feel bad that you got kicked off . . . and that I took your place.” She looked down at her uniform. “I even felt bad when our moms did the deal on your uniform. Really, you have no idea how guilty I've felt about all of that.”

“I know it's not really your fault,” Gillian assured her. “I mean, I was pretty mad at you too. But like I already told you, I know I acted as bad as you did. Probably worse. The truth is, I don't even remember everything from that stupid party. I was pretty out of it that night. But I do know this—and it's from going to my treatment meetings—I know I'm supposed to clean the slate. I've been trying to tell everyone that I'm sorry for the crud I pulled. Like I told you the other day, I'm sorry for how I treated you.”

“But I want you to know that I really am sorry,” Lishia said firmly. “If I could go back and do that all differently, I would.”

“So . . . now I'm curious . . . why
did
you start going after me back then?” Gillian asked. “I mean, I realize I was a brat sometimes, but it's not like we'd ever had problems before. It was like you suddenly hated me.”

“Riley.”

“Oh?”

“She wanted me to act like that. And I needed a friend.” Lishia felt embarrassed to admit this. “Somehow Riley made me believe that you had been going after her, like you were trying to make her life miserable. And I stupidly bought into it. I wanted to be friends with her . . . so I suppose I made myself believe her.”

“She can be convincing when she wants to be.”

“So I've seen.”

“And I suspected that she was feeling jealous about Dayton and me. She didn't come out and say as much, but suddenly we were squabbling over stupid little things. I figured it was her usual passive-aggressive routine.”

“Passive-aggressive?” Lishia was feeling a little nervous now. How much did she plan to tell Gillian about Riley? What if she was getting in over her head? Maybe she should shut her mouth before it was too late.

“Well, I've known Riley for a long time, and I'm well aware of how she works people. In my opinion she has a passive-aggressive personality. I know all about that because my dad has it—that's why my parents divorced. Anyway, I know Riley is a major manipulator, so I can imagine how she might've manipulated you.”

“There's no denying that Riley goes for what she wants.” Lishia sighed. “And God help anyone who gets in her way.”

“Tell me about it.” Gillian shook her head.

“Now all I want is to escape her.” The handle of her bag was twisted tightly in her hands. “Seriously, I need a Riley break.”

“So was that what you wanted to talk about?” Gillian asked as she parked at a diner. “That whole thing with Riley?”

“Actually, there's a little more to it.” Lishia took in a deep breath as they got out of the car.

“What kind of more?”

Lishia felt a wave of fear rush through her. What was she doing talking to Gillian like this? Riley would go for serious revenge if she knew who Lishia was with right now. And who knew what Riley was capable of? She could smear Lishia's reputation at cyberspeed, and Lishia knew she would. Beyond that, Lishia would be kicked off the squad, she might even be suspended from school, and everyone in the community would know she was a fraud—including her parents.

But that wasn't all that was at stake. If Lishia spilled the beans with Gillian, there was no telling what Gillian might do. Naturally, she'd be furious—and with just cause. Perhaps even worse than that, she would be hurt, and just when Lishia was starting to feel like they could almost be friends, like they shared some commonalities. But seriously, what kind of friend could Lishia be to Gillian? Or anyone for that matter? Lishia was a loser and a fraud—and her life would completely unravel if she let this wildcat out of the bag.

As they were seated in a booth, she wished she'd thought this through a little better. To continue this conversation with Gillian was self-destructive to say the least. But Lishia felt so bone tired as the waitress handed her a greasy menu—like she'd been running an unending marathon of madness. Maybe this was the only way to end this thing.

L
ishia couldn't believe what she was doing and who she was with, but she followed Gillian's lead by ordering the chocolate cream pie and coffee. Then, bracing herself for the fallout that was sure to come, she decided to continue this conversation. But first she wanted to tell Gillian about her own experience at Vanessa's party last week. It was only a hunch, but she suspected that Gillian might relate to it . . . a lot. So she explained about feeling out of place and deciding to take the plunge and try her first taste of alcohol. “Of course, it turned out to be the stupidest move of my life . . . or nearly.” She grimaced to think of how many stupid things she'd done in the past few weeks—the list was overwhelming.

“Oh, yeah, I heard about that at school.” Gillian chuckled. “I was kind of surprised that you'd get wasted like that—and for a guy too.” She shook her head. “Too bad.”

“But the thing is, I didn't get wasted. I only had one drink.” She held up a finger. “And I don't think I even drank the whole thing—although I can't remember it all too clearly.”

Gillian looked slightly curious as the waitress set down their pies and coffees. “Really?”

“Brandon Procter got the drink for me.” Lishia watched Gillian's eyes flicker slightly, almost as if this triggered something.

“Brandon Procter?” Her brows lifted.

“Yes, and I honestly believe he slipped something into it,” Lishia confided.

“Really?”
She leaned forward with interest.

“Vanessa mentioned that you thought something like that might've happened to you at Todd's birthday party.”

Gillian nodded as she slowly picked up her fork. “Uh-huh.”

“Are you willing to talk about it?”

“I guess so . . . but I have to admit, it's pretty foggy. I mean, it's been a while, and I was pretty out of it.”

“That's okay. Just tell me what you remember.”

Gillian began to tell about how she suddenly felt completely intoxicated. “But the weird thing was, I'd only had one, maybe two drinks. And it's not like I never drank before . . . not like some people.” She gave a mischievous grin. “In fact, that's what makes it tricky . . . because there were some other times when I drank too much, and I felt similar. Not nearly so sick, though.”

“I'm curious . . . were you around Brandon that night?”

“Not really. I mean, he was around—you know the way Brandon can be all over the place, buzzing around like a pesky mosquito. But I don't know that I actually spoke to him or anything.” Her mouth twisted to one side. “As I recall he was buzzing around Riley a lot—you know, before she and Dayton decided to get back together. Maybe Brandon thought he had a chance with her.” She laughed. “I think they'd make a good couple!”

Lishia laughed, then suddenly stopped. “Now that you mention it, I do remember Brandon being around Riley that night too.”

“Uh-huh.” Gillian took a big bite of whipped cream. “So?”

The wheels in Lishia's mind were spinning faster now. What if Riley had something to do with Gillian being inebriated? After all, it was Riley who'd blown the whistle on the drinking party, running before the police arrived. And Riley had known Gillian would be caught there. What if the whole thing was Riley's elaborate setup all along? “So I'm curious . . . did anyone check your alcohol level at the police station?”

Gillian shrugged. “Yeah, sure, they took some blood. I think I even told them I'd been drugged. I haven't heard back what the numbers were or anything, but I do have a lawyer working on it.”

“It would be interesting to know the results . . . I mean, if someone really slipped you something . . . wouldn't you want to know?”

“Now that you mention it, I guess I would, although I've been trying to accept responsibility for the bad choices I made. To recover, you have to admit that you were the one who blew it. You can't keep blaming everyone else.”

Lishia nodded. “Yes, I can understand that. But what if someone helped you to blow it?”

Gillian frowned as she set down her fork. “What do you mean exactly?”

“I'm not sure, but I am curious.”

“Can you be more specific?”

Lishia took a deep breath. “Riley will kill me.”

“Huh?”

Lishia swallowed hard. “I don't know where to begin . . .”

“Just begin,” Gillian commanded.

Lishia decided to start by focusing on that night of Todd's birthday party. “I already told you about how Riley was trying to get me to go after you, but now I think there was even more going on.” She spilled out the story of how Riley left the party and called the police.

“What?” Gillian's eyes were full of anger.

“I know. I was mad too. I was still there when the cops arrived. Todd and I made a run for it. But now I'm thinking about how Riley told me she left the party right after you were thrown in the pool. Do you recall who initiated the pool incident?”

Gillian looked confused. “Not exactly.”

“It was Brandon.”

She nodded like that made sense. “Do you think Riley put him up to it? Like he was her puppet?”

“I don't know . . . but I guess it wouldn't surprise me.”

“So she set the whole thing up just to get me. She got Brandon to slip something into my drink. Then she told her little minion to throw me in the pool. And knowing full well that I'd get caught like that, she ran out to call the police?”

“I never thought about it like that until tonight, Gillian. But I have to admit it all adds up.”

“Why are you telling me this?” Gillian's eyes narrowed. “Is this another one of Riley's setups?”

“No, of course not. If anything, I'm putting myself in a really bad place with Riley now. When she hears that I've told you, I'm toast.”

“She's toast.” Gillian pressed her lips tightly together.

“The thing is . . . I think we should try to gather some evidence—I mean, before you do something crazy like confronting her. I know firsthand how slippery Riley can be. She can turn things against you”—she snapped her fingers—“just like that.”

“What kind of evidence?”

“Maybe we should confront Brandon.”

Gillian nodded. “Yeah, that's not a bad idea.”

“It would sure help if you knew the results of your blood test that night.”

“Okay, I'll call my lawyer tomorrow.” She looked curiously at Lishia. “If it turns out I was slipped something . . . would you come with me to confront Brandon?”

Lishia took in a quick breath. “I, uh, I guess so. But to be honest, I'm not a great one at confrontations.”

Gillian let out a small laugh. “You could've fooled me the night of Todd's birthday. You were pretty confrontational.”

Lishia felt bad now. “That was an act . . . one that I'm sorry about.”

“Well, maybe you can pull it off again.”

They talked for about an hour, putting together a plan for confronting Brandon, and by the time Gillian took Lishia home, Lishia felt like they were almost friends. Almost. But once Gillian found out how much deeper Lishia was into this thing, any hopes of friendship would evaporate.

Lishia tossed and turned all night long, and even when she did manage to fall asleep, she was awakened by a nightmare—a nightmare where she'd been naked and cold and running for her life with bleeding feet. Finally, at around seven in the morning, she gave up on the possibility of sleeping. Maybe this was part of the price one paid for living a big fat lie.

Pacing back and forth in her room, she wondered about her fate. She knew that her life was about to start unraveling. Maybe it had already begun when she'd made her partial confession to Gillian last night. Lishia knew she needed help—serious help. She went over to the Bible on her nightstand, where it had sat untouched for weeks. She traced the lines of a cross through the film of dust on the cover, then decided to open it. The Bible opened to the Gospel of Matthew, and her eyes fell to a verse she had highlighted in pink—probably last summer.

Don't store up treasures on earth! Moths and rust can destroy them, and thieves can break in and steal them. Instead, store up your treasures in heaven, where moths and rust cannot destroy them, and thieves cannot break in and steal them. Your heart will always be where your treasure is. (Matt. 6:19–21)

She read the words several times, trying to let them sink in. She had previously thought these verses were about money and how she shouldn't put her trust in material things. But suddenly she understood the words differently. As if a lightbulb had gone on inside her head, she knew that Jesus was talking about how she needed to treasure the things of God—to place them over everything else. And she knew she had stopped doing that. Feeling hungry for more, she read on through the next several verses.

Your eyes are like a window for your body. When they are good, you have all the light you need. But when your eyes are bad, everything is dark. If the light inside you is dark, you surely are in the dark. You cannot be the slave of two masters! You will like one more than the other or be more loyal to one than the other. (Matt. 6:22–24)

That was exactly how she felt! Like her eyes had been full of darkness and everything inside of her was black and moldy and sick and nasty. She set her Bible on her bed and actually got down on her knees, like she used to do as a little girl. Then she bowed her head and confessed what she'd been doing. “I am truly, truly sorry,” she said with tears streaming down her cheeks. “Please forgive me. I don't want to serve two masters anymore. I know I was serving Riley, trying to make her happy, but all it brought me was trouble—and heartache and messes. From now on, I only want to serve you, God.”

She prayed for a while, pouring out all the sadness and frustrations and fears that had been eating at her the past few weeks. Finally she had no more words, so she said amen and stood, and although her knees felt sore, her spirit felt lighter than ever. She knew that no matter what kind of fallout was coming her way, she could handle it. With God by her side, she would get through it. But the next thing she had to do—and it wouldn't be easy—was to confess to her parents.

She found them having coffee in the breakfast nook. Dad had the newspaper spread in front of him, and Mom was reading Christmas cards. “Do you guys have a minute?” she asked in a voice that sounded small and frightened—almost as if she were a six-year-old.

They both looked up with curious expressions that quickly changed to concerned. “What's wrong?” Mom asked gently.

“I have something to tell you,” Lishia began, “and it's not going to be easy.”

Dad set the paper aside. “Go ahead.”

She began to pour out the whole horrible story, confessing how Riley had connived to get Lishia onto the squad and how Lishia hadn't realized it from the beginning, but when she did know, she still went along with it. She told about how most of the cheerleaders broke the conduct code and even about how she tried a drink last week and how badly it turned out. She knew her parents were shocked to hear all this, but she continued talking, pouring it all out until there was nothing left to say.

“Wow . . .” Dad let out a long sigh.

“Yeah . . .” Mom nodded. “Ditto.”

“I know you're both disappointed in me,” Lishia said.

“I can't believe you'd do something like that,” Mom said sadly. “It doesn't seem like you.”

Lishia shrugged. “I guess everyone has the potential to turn into a jerk.”

“My question is . . . ” Dad removed his glasses, rubbing the bridge of his nose. “What do you plan to do about this?”

“I'll tell Mrs. Glassman the truth . . . and take the consequences.”

“When?” Mom asked.

Lishia slumped down into a chair and shook her head. “I don't know.”

“School isn't back in session until January,” Mom said.

“I know.”

“I have another question,” Dad said. “What about this boy, the one you think may have slipped a mickey into your drink? What about the consequences for him?”

“Good question,” Mom said.

Lishia explained about how she and Gillian would confront him together. “That is, if Gillian's drug test shows that she was given something.”

“I find it hard to believe Gillian is even speaking to you.” Mom looked doubtful. “Considering everything.”

Lishia confessed that Gillian didn't know the whole story yet.

“Yet?” Dad frowned.

“I'll tell her . . . eventually.” Lishia closed her eyes and groaned. “I don't have it all figured out yet.” A lump was growing in her throat as she felt Mom's hand on her shoulder.

“Well, it's a lot to figure out,” Mom said in a choked voice.

Lishia opened her eyes and looked at Mom. She couldn't believe that Mom had tears in her eyes. “I'm sorry I hurt you like this. And I feel rotten that I dumped it all on you a few days before Christmas too. I'm so sorry.”