The Best Friend (7 page)

“Okay . . . ?” Lishia was unsure, and now her stomach felt like there was a brick in the bottom of it.

“Here she is,” Riley announced as she pulled Lishia toward Mrs. Glassman's office.

“Have a seat,” Mrs. Glassman told her in a serious tone.

Lishia nodded without speaking and sat down.

“No need to be nervous. I just have a few questions.” She looked at Riley. “You can wait out there. Close the door on your way out.”

“I'm sure you know why you're here,” Mrs. Glassman began. “Unfortunately, we have to make a decision—and, of course, it's not an easy one.”

Lishia nodded again, swallowing hard. “I can imagine.”

“So, tell me, were you at the infamous birthday party?”

Lishia was pretty sure that Mrs. Glassman already knew this answer, but she explained anyway, saying how she went there with Riley.

“And did you know there would be alcohol?”

“No,” Lishia said quickly. “I, uh, I don't even drink.”

“Really?” Mrs. Glassman peered curiously at her.

“Honestly, I don't drink. I think it's dumb. I mean, look what happened to Gillian. I would die if that—” She stopped herself. “Sorry.”

“So, speaking of Gillian, I saw Riley's home movie, and you were in it. Care to explain what you did to get Gillian so angry at you?”

Lishia thought hard. “I'm not sure why she was so mad at me, but it probably had to do with what I said to Dayton. There was kind of a love triangle between him and Gillian and Riley. I simply told him that I thought Riley was a better choice.” She shrugged. “If you'd seen how Gillian had been acting, you'd probably understand.”

“I am disappointed in Gillian,” Mrs. Glassman admitted. “But as I told the other girls, I realize that Gillian's family is going through some difficult times, and a part of me understands how that can take a toll on a girl.”

Lishia frowned. “I didn't know that.”

“No, I'm sure Gillian wouldn't tell you. And really, it's no excuse. The code of conduct still applies.” Now Mrs. Glassman asked Lishia some specific questions about the party, including whether she'd seen the other cheerleaders drinking. Fortunately, Lishia hadn't specifically noticed, so she could answer honestly. “Okay, that's all I need,” Mrs. Glassman said in a somber tone. “Thank you for your time.”

Lishia stood, then paused. “I wish I'd known that Gillian was having problems at home,” she said wistfully. “I would've tried to be nicer to her.”

Mrs. Glassman shook her head. “Maybe you'll keep that in mind for the future. My hope would be that all you girls would learn a lesson from this—and be smarter next time.”

Lishia nodded as she left. A lesson . . . had she learned a lesson yet? If so, what was it? Or perhaps there was still a lesson to come. Mostly she was glad to have that little interrogation behind her.

W
hat is going on with you?” Megan Bernard asked Lishia the next day as they walked into their AP history class.

“Huh?” Lishia looked blankly at Megan.

“It's like you turned into someone else overnight.”

“Overnight?” Lishia tipped her head to the side. “You mean
last
night?”

“You know what I mean. Last week you were one person, and now you're someone else.”

Lishia looked down at herself, then shook her head. “Nope, you're wrong. I'm the same person.”

“You've changed.”

“Hey, change is good.” Lishia took a seat in back, and Megan sat next to her.

“First you started by shoving your old friends away,” Megan challenged.

“I never shoved anyone away,” Lishia defended herself.

“You kept us all at arm's length.”

Lishia shrugged. “I think it was mutual.”

“Anyway, now you've gone and changed your hair and your friends, and we heard you went to a drinking party.”

“A drinking party?” Lishia chuckled.

“You know what I mean.” Now Megan smiled. “The only reason I'm telling you this is because we care about you. As your Christian brothers and sisters, we want to warn you that you're going down a bad road.”

Lishia frowned. “How do you know what kind of road I'm on?”

“We can see it. You're hanging with the wrong crowd, acting like someone else. And you didn't even go to youth group on Saturday.”

“What are you, the church police?”

“I just happen to care about you.” Megan pursed her lips.

“Thanks for caring.” Lishia gave her a stiff smile. “But I'm just fine, thank you very much.”

“But you should know that Riley is bad news,” Megan persisted.

“Are you going to start gossiping about my friend now?” Lishia gave her a disapproving look. “You know what the Bible says about gossip, don't you?”

Megan looked perplexed. Fortunately, their teacher was making his way to the front of the room, and Lishia had an excuse to turn her attention from Megan. She was only partially surprised that Megan had said something like that to her. For starters, their youth pastor was always encouraging kids to hold each other accountable, to keep them from going astray. Besides that, Megan had a reputation for sticking her nose into other people's business.

Lishia decided to simply chalk it up to old-fashioned jealousy. Megan's older sister Bethany had been a lot more popular than Megan. It made sense that Megan might want that too. But it was wrong for her to attempt to make Lishia feel guilty for befriending Riley. Seriously, didn't Megan have any understanding of Christian love? She would be singing a different song when Lishia brought Riley to church with her. It could happen.

By Wednesday, the decision was made. Gillian was suspended indefinitely from cheerleading. And once again, Lishia's presence was requested in Mrs. Glassman's office. Riley had prepared Lishia for this possibility. “You must act totally surprised when she tells you that you're the alternate and offers you a position on the squad,” she warned. “There's no way you knew this could happen to you—you are dumbfounded. It might even be impressive if you shed some tears. And be sure to show sympathy for Gillian's loss. After all, her mother is Mrs. Glassman's good friend.”

Naturally, Lishia did all of that, including crying. Whether her tears were from joy, relief, fear, or even guilt was unclear, but they were real just the same.

“Here's the list of things you'll need to get.” Mrs. Glassman handed her a sheet of paper. “Unfortunately, there's nothing left in the team funds to help you with your uniform now. I suppose you could ask Gillian about selling some of her things and try to get some alterations done . . .”

Lishia grimaced. “I don't know if I could do that.”

“Yeah, it might just make her feel worse. Poor Gillian, she's pretty broken up over this.”

Lishia glanced down at the list, surprised it was so long.

“As you can imagine, the girls want you to join them in practice immediately.” Mrs. Glassman stood. “So get dressed down and meet us in the girls' gym.”

Lishia nodded and blew her nose, thanking Mrs. Glassman. But her heart was still pounding as she pulled on shorts and a tank and tied up her shoes. She knew she should be happy—most girls would be over the moon by now. Really, it was amazing that this was happening to her. She just hoped she was up for it—and that she wouldn't blow it.

More than ever she was grateful for all the time Riley had spent with her, teaching her the routines so she wouldn't look like a total clown when she joined the team. There was no way she had the routines down pat, but at least it would shorten her learning curve. Now she had to be careful not to act like she was picking up on things too quickly. It felt like a balancing act.

As Lishia walked to the girls' gym, she looked forward to when she would no longer be acting—when she could return to responding normally and not feel so guarded about everything she said or did. But for the time being she knew there was no room for slipups. She had to continue this charade that she and Riley had so painstakingly created.

She was welcomed to the gym with warm congratulations as well as some slightly suspicious looks. Some girls obviously had trouble believing it was a coincidence that Lishia and Riley had just happened to become best friends—and now this. But as they worked together and Lishia took special care to be extra nice to everyone, things seemed to settle down.

“We need to practice during Thanksgiving break,” Amanda announced when they were back in the locker room. The team agreed to some time slots and locations, and then everyone told each other to have a happy Thanksgiving and went their separate ways.

“You were perfect,” Riley told Lishia as they went to her car. “Everyone bought your Oscar-worthy performance.”

Lishia let out a weary sigh. “I'll be glad when things settle down. I had no idea how much work it is to be an actress. It's no wonder I took art instead of drama.”

Riley laughed. “Well, you pulled this one off like a natural.”

Lishia knew that was meant to be a compliment, but somehow she heard it another way—almost as if Riley was praising her for being a good con artist. Anyway, it rubbed her the wrong way, and suddenly Lishia didn't feel like talking. She got out the list that Mrs. Glassman had given her and began to study it.

“Is that the uniform list?” Riley asked as she stopped for the light.

“Uh-huh . . .” Lishia sighed. “Wow, I had no idea everything was this expensive.”

“Yeah. And it's too late for you to participate in the fundraisers.”

“I don't know if I can afford this.” Lishia looked at Riley with worried eyes. The truth was, she knew she could not afford this. No way, no how. “Maybe this was all a mistake and I should just—”

“No! You have to do this, Lishia,” Riley insisted. “We'll figure out a way to make it work.”

“Mrs. Glassman suggested I might buy stuff from Gillian.”

“Ugh, you don't want her things. Even if she was willing, which I doubt, there'd be no way to know how she might sabotage them before she handed them over.”

“But everything costs so much.” Lishia folded the papers and tucked them back into her bag.

“Don't start freaking yet. The first game isn't for a couple of weeks. We'll think of something by then.”

“Like rob a bank?”

Riley laughed.

“I don't know . . .” Lishia felt close to tears now. “Maybe this really was a mistake. Maybe this is what I get for being underhanded.”

“Don't say that. You weren't underhanded.”

Lishia bit her lip.

“Gillian brought it all on herself.”

“We helped,” Lishia quietly admitted.

“All we did was report on what happened.”

“Not everything.”

“What do you mean?” Riley's brow creased.

“I never told Mrs. Glassman that you and the other cheerleaders there were drinking that night too.”

“Well, of course not.”

Lishia looked down at the bag in her lap.

“But none of us took it as far as Gillian did either. We didn't make total fools of ourselves.”

“Did you know that Gillian's parents were having some problems?” Lishia said quietly.

“Oh, good grief! Everyone's parents have problems. It's no excuse to go to pieces.”

“Mine don't.”

“Your parents have
no
problems . . .
right
?”

“Nothing big enough to make me go out drinking.”

“Then don't. No one expects you to. But don't start feeling all sorry for Gillian either. What's done is done, and for you to turn into a bleeding heart will not help anyone. Not you or Gillian. Do you seriously think she wants your pity now? It's not like it'll undo her suspension.”

Lishia knew this was true, but she felt sorry for Gillian just the same.

“Anyway, don't get all bummed about the cost of the outfits,” Riley said as she pulled in front of Lishia's house. “We'll figure out something. Maybe we can have a fundraiser just for you.”

Lishia nodded. “Thanks.”

“Happy Thanksgiving,” Riley called out cheerfully.

Lishia returned the greeting with a little less cheer, then hurried into the house to avoid the raindrops that were starting to splatter down. She knew her mom was home because her car was in the driveway. That was the problem with her teaching only half days—she was usually home in the afternoon. Lishia had liked that when she was younger, but sometimes, like today, she would've happily avoided her mom's inquisition about her day.

“Just who I wanted to see,” Mom called from the kitchen. “I could use a hand, Lish.”

Lishia hesitantly peeked in. “Yeah?”

“Want to help me get the rest of the groceries out of the car?”

“Okay.” Lishia pulled her parka back on. At least this bought her a couple of minutes to figure out how to hit Mom with her latest news. She knew she should act like she was excited and happy—but she was so tired of acting. She gathered up the remaining bags, then hurried back inside, dumping them on the counters. “What is all this?” she asked.

“We're hosting Thanksgiving, remember?” Mom shoved a bag of apples into the fridge. “Grandma Willis is coming and—”

“I have some interesting news,” Lishia said suddenly.

“What?” Mom paused and looked at her.

“I made the cheerleading squad.”

“What?” Mom set a can of cranberry sauce on the counter and gave her a puzzled look. So Lishia explained about a girl getting kicked off. “The routines are all designed for seven girls. It turns out I'm the alternate, so I'll be cheering for basketball season.”

Mom broke into a wide smile. “Well, that's wonderful, sweetie. I'm so happy for you. How exciting.” Her smile faded. “But you don't seem happy. What's wrong?”

Lishia felt a lump growing in her throat. “I—uh—I'm happy. It's just that—” Now she started to cry.

“What is it?” Mom put her arms around her and hugged her tightly. “Talk to me.”

Suddenly Lishia was worried. She wanted to tell her mom everything, but that would get everyone, including her, into trouble. Besides, even if she spilled the beans, how would they possibly untangle everything? What good would come of it? Riley was right—what was done was done.

“Come on, sweetie, tell me what's wrong,” Mom urged as she held Lishia at arm's length and looked into her eyes. “You should be dancing for joy—not crying.”

“It's just that”—Lishia reached for her bag and pulled out the paperwork—“it costs too much. I can't do it. I'll have to tell them that—”

“Wait a minute.” Mom took the papers from her. “Let's see.” She began to go over the list, reading it out loud and letting out short exclamations as she read prices. “Oh, my! I had no idea these things were so costly. How did the other girls afford it?”

Lishia explained about fundraisers. “But now it's too late.”

“Oh . . .” She handed the list back to Lishia.

“So I should tell them no, huh?” Lishia hoped beyond hope that Mom would agree. Oh, she'd be sad and say it was too bad, but then she'd turn parental and say the wise thing to do at this point was to pass. Lishia could act slightly hurt by this . . . but then she'd agree.

“What about the girl who got suspended?” Mom questioned. “Couldn't you buy her uniform and things from her—at a discount, of course? Or maybe she's the wrong size.”

“She's actually about the same size as me . . . well, I don't know about shoes, but I don't want—”

“Well, we could certainly afford new shoes, Lishia. But if you could talk to her and find out if she's—”

“That's just it. She's so mad . . . you know, about getting kicked off . . . I doubt she'll even speak to me.” That was an understatement. Gillian would probably claw Lishia's eyes out before she'd let her have her uniform.

“Oh . . . I can see how that might be awkward.” Mom nodded. “And I can imagine she must be hurting.”

Now Lishia explained that she'd been having problems at home too. “Maybe that's why she was drinking so much that night.”

“That's sad.” Mom shook her head.

“So I guess I should tell them I can't do this.” Lishia waited.

“Don't be too hasty. Let me talk to Dad. You know you have a birthday in January. We might be able to call part of this your present. And you could do some babysitting during the holidays. Remember last year when you babysat on New Year's Eve and made such good money?”

“Yes, but—”

“And Lishia, have you prayed about this?”

Lishia gave her a blank look.