Page 151 of The Cheerleader

Then she smiles at me. “Let me see the ring. It’s okay. Bryan told me. He told me everything.”

The way she says everything disquiets me, and I dart a glance at him, but he says nothing. Wally breaks the awkward tension, smiling and grabbing my hand.

“Yeah, let’s see. I heard you were engaged. That’s so cool.” He checks out my ring thoroughly. He clears his throat and says, “Welcome to the family.” Grinning, he adds, “That’s what my aunt told me to say.” He moves aside when Liz prods him, and she takes my hand.

I almost flinch, and she darts her eyes at me. “It’s a beautiful ring.” She squeezes my hand and then lets go. I don’t have a chance to squeeze back, but it was enough for me to hope there might be forgiveness underneath her civility, more than just a truce.

“How are you?” she asks Bryan.

He stands there, stoic, with Wally plastered to his side, looking up at him like he’s a god come down from Mount Olympus.

“Too many things to say.” I expected him to merely grunt.

“Let’s go watch the news,” Wally says. “I think they’re going to talk about you on the sports—about you getting drafted. I saw them interview Coach Torini earlier. How come you didn’t let them interview you?”

“I’ve been busy.” Bryan flicks a glance at me, and I see the softness flare in his eyes before he turns away.

Wally drags him and he drags me to the McNeil’s living room with the old black-and-white console TV going and her father’s ratty lopsided chair facing it. Wally jumps into the chair and Liz flinches. She opens her mouth as if to say something, but then she closes it and looks away.

I touch her shoulder. “How’s your dad?”

She turns to me and her eyes are sad. “Pathetic. He’s old and broken down as if he’s eighty years old. And whether he lives or dies only matters because we’re surviving on his disability income.”

Before I think, I let go of Bryan and put my arms around Liz in a hug. She accepts it, but doesn’t hug back and it feels so strange, so un-Liz-like. She tenses and if I didn’t feel the thudding of her heart in her chest, I would think she was unaffected by me.

I let her go. “Maybe we should leave,” I say.

She nods. “First, I want to let you know I’m happy for Bryan, that he’s happy.” She smiles at him, her eyes glittery with unshed tears, and clears her throat.

When she meets my eyes again, her smile is gone. “But I wish it wasn’t you… I’m sorry.”

“Liz—” Bryan says, putting a protective arm around me and pulling me to him.

“It’s okay,” I say. “Understandable.” I gulp down my disappointment, feeling foolish for hoping for too much.

The tumor of emotions clogs my throat, but I speak anyway, in a tremulous voice. “What about you, Liz? I want you to be happy⁠—”

Tears start running down my cheeks as I resist the urge to hug her again. My chest is too tight to say a word for a few seconds, almost too tight to breathe.

Bryan whispers, “Let’s go.” I hear the strain of concern in his voice as he moves, but I hold back.

Breaking free from Bryan’s protective arms, I force myself to say what’s in my heart. “Promise me you’ll find some special man to love you like you deserve, Liz, and that you’ll let him, and not settle for anything less than to be adored and treasured; then I’ll be truly happy. I’ll always be your sister. Soul sister.” I give a self-deprecating eye roll and smile at daring to relate us to Patti LaBelle’s song, “Lady Marmalade”.

She nods and holds her arms around herself, like she needs to protect herself from me, to maintain her defenses. She darts her eyes to Bryan when he steps forward and takes hold of me again, pulling me back to him as he retreats.

When I see her tears spill over down her cheeks, I want to scream, to erase everything—until Bryan whispers, “Come with me.”

Wally follows us to the back door and begs Bryan to take him with us.

“You have school. We all have school.”

“Not you, Bryan. You’re an NFL player now.”

“Not yet, kid.”

He lifts Wally into the air when we get outside and swings him around as the kid laughs and laughs. When Bryan returns his little cousin to the ground, he says, “I’ll give you a ride home.”

Wally shakes his head. “The farm? It’s not home anymore. We’re packing up. We need to be out of there right away.”