The Best Friend (15 page)

Mom nodded. “It's a lot to take in, Lish. And I have to admit I'm experiencing a lot of different emotions right now.”

“Me too,” Dad added.

“I feel angry and hurt,” Mom confessed. “And disappointed and embarrassed.” She shook her head. “And then there's your grandmother and the family . . . and I sent out that Christmas letter, bragging to everyone about how you were a cheerleader now. Oh, Lishia, I can't believe you did this to us.”

“I'm sorry, Mom.” Now Lishia was crying again.

“Look,” Dad said firmly, “the important thing is that you're telling the truth now, Lishia. Somehow we'll all get through this.”

They talked about it some more. Naturally, her parents had more questions, more concerns . . . and finally, after it seemed they were all equally frustrated, Dad suggested they pray about it together. Lishia felt relieved when they all bowed their heads and Dad said a brief but sincere prayer.

“We'll survive this, Lishia,” he assured her when they were done. “It's not fun and it's not pretty, but we will all learn and grow from it in the end.”

Lishia thanked them. “I'm lucky to have such great parents,” she said.

“Blessed,” Mom corrected. “Luck had nothing to do with it.”

She smiled at them both. “Okay, blessed then. I am blessed.”

She knew that was true. And she knew she'd taken some good steps today. But she knew the hardest part was still ahead of her. The only thing that would get her through it would be to hold tightly to God's hand. This time she was not going to let go!

T
hat night, Lishia went to youth group. It was the first time she'd been in weeks, and the reception she received was different, perhaps even a little chilly in places. She sensed that some of her friends (like Janelle, Chelsea, and Megan) were questioning her presence there, maybe even judging her because they knew what she'd gotten herself into last weekend—and as far as they knew, she was still living a big fat lie. Other old friends were treating her as if she were really special, as if her new status as a cheerleader had elevated her in their eyes. In a way, that seemed even worse than the way Janelle, Chelsea, and Megan were acting. But she didn't hold it against them. After all, not long ago, she'd been just as shallow.

She waited nervously until the time for personal sharing came—then she took in a deep breath and raised her hand up high.

“Hey, Lishia,” Raymond said in a warm tone. “Great to have you back again. And congrats on being a cheerleader now. I was at the game last night, and you looked great—too bad the basketball team's not doing better. Anyway, we're all proud of you. Now what did you want to say?”

She cleared her throat and stood. “I just wanted to make a confession.” She could hear the nervous tremor in her voice. “Believe me, it's not an easy one to make. But I know that since you are my brothers and sisters in Christ, you will understand . . . and you will forgive me. Anyway, I want to confess to everyone that I have been a great big fraud—a complete phony—and I haven't liked myself at all.” The room got so silent she could hear the clock on the back wall ticking.

“I want to admit that I got on the cheerleading squad through false means and say that I plan to confess this to everyone as soon as I can. I expect to be suspended from the squad and maybe even from school . . . and, well, it's all going to be very humiliating.” She paused to steady herself, seeing the stunned expressions on the faces, some of which seemed truly empathetic.

“But I don't care that I'm going to look like a fool,” she continued, “because today I decided it was time to get honest with myself and with God. I've confessed my sins and repented. And now I want to be honest with everyone else as well—even though it's not easy.” She sat down, and leaning forward with her eyes on her lap, she tried not to cry.

“Well, that is very interesting,” Raymond said from up front, “because it just so happens to go right along with tonight's message—which is about being transparent with God
and
your friends. So I really appreciate you sharing like you did just now, Lishia. And you can be sure that I—and hopefully everyone else—will really be praying for you in the coming week. Now is there anyone else who would like to share?”

To Lishia's surprise, one after another began to stand up and spill out some pretty hard stories. It was like she'd opened the door, and now everyone started to confess various parts of their lives where they felt like they'd been phonies and frauds and hypocrites. It was all rather eye-opening and amazing.

“I hope everyone will respect and appreciate that there is an unspoken understanding that we are like a family and this is a place of trust. We've had plenty of talks about gossiping, and I sure don't want to hear about anyone here violating that trust.” Heads nodded, and Raymond began his message, which he said he would keep short since he felt their personal testimonies were even more valuable than his sermon.

“Now I want us to break up into small groups,” he told them after he finished, “and I want us to really pray for each other. I have a feeling this is God's way of giving each and every one of us a special Christmas present this year. What could be better than a clean slate and a fresh spiritual beginning? I hope you'll all participate and receive this gift!”

Lishia ended up in a group with Megan and Chelsea and Grayson. They all shared a little more, and she was touched by their sincerity as they prayed for each other. It really seemed that they sincerely cared about each other. She was also relieved to remember that no one would be in school next week, so the chances of rumors spreading (like to Riley) before she could come clean with Mrs. Glassman and Gillian seemed fairly remote. Even so, she was prepared for the worst just in case that happened.

On Monday morning, Lishia and Mom worked together to track down Mrs. Glassman's home phone number, and Lishia called, asking for the chance to speak to her in person. “I'm sorry to disturb you during Christmas break,” she said, “but what I have to say is pretty urgent.” When Mrs. Glassman balked at Lishia's invitation to meet for coffee, Mom stepped in.

“I'm sorry too,” Mom told her. “I'm a teacher like you, and I wouldn't enjoy hearing from one of my students, but Lishia is telling the truth when she says it's rather urgent.”

Fortunately, this seemed to carry some weight, and about an hour later the three of them met at Starbucks and Lishia unloaded the whole sordid tale—and Mrs. Glassman took furious notes. Lishia's plan had been to tell her story without using specific names or implicating anyone else. It was her confession to make, and she didn't want to come across as a tattletale.

“I know this will mean I'm suspended,” she said finally. “And I understand that. Mostly I'm really, really sorry for the trouble this will cause you as well as the squad.”

Mrs. Glassman looked partly stunned and partly irritated. “I'm sorry too, Lishia. But this opens up a whole new can of worms. Now, like it or not, you are going to have to tell me who else was involved in this scam. I need to know who tampered with the votes. Otherwise, I will be forced to take the whole thing to the administration for even further disciplinary actions—and eventually the name or names will come out. Do you understand me?”

Lishia looked at Mom.

“I think she's right,” Mom told her. “You've put Mrs. Glassman in an awkward position. It seems like it's your responsibility to be forthcoming with all the information.”

“But I didn't want to rat anyone out,” Lishia explained.

“My husband is an attorney,” Mrs. Glassman told them. “If this were a legal matter, I think you would be considered an accomplice, at the very least, and if you were put on the witness stand, you would be required to tell the whole truth, Lishia. Or else face perjury charges.”

“Just tell her,” Mom urged. “You might as well.”

Lishia reluctantly told the complete story, including how Gillian's drink, as well as her own, might have been spiked with an illegal drug.

Mrs. Glassman groaned. “The plot thickens.”

Lishia nodded.

“So, tell me, were all the cheerleaders participating in these drinking parties?”

“No,” Lishia said quickly. Then she listed the girls, including Amanda, who never went to those kinds of parties. “At least as far as I know. This is all pretty new to me.”

Mrs. Glassman made note of this.

“Riley doesn't know that I'm confessing,” Lishia said quietly.

Mrs. Glassman looked suspicious. “Yes, I thought you and Riley were pretty chummy.”

“Riley was forcing Lishia to be her best friend with the threat of blackmail,” Mom said defensively.

“Riley said she'd tell you I did the whole thing myself,” Lishia said, “when I threatened to go forward and tell you. She said she could make it look like I did it—and that it would seem I had more motive than she did.”

“Did you?”

Lishia shrugged. “It might seem that way, but the truth is I've felt trapped for weeks now. I've been miserable. I feel like I sold my soul to the devil.”

“Why do you think Riley did this?” Mrs. Glassman peered intently at Lishia.

“Because she can?” Lishia shook her head. “And because she thought she could buy my friendship, and she could control me, and she hated Gillian . . . but mostly I'm starting to think it really was because she could get away with it. Like she was on some kind of power trip. Gillian says she's passive-aggressive, but I don't actually know what that means.”

Mrs. Glassman gave a half smile. “So you're speaking to Gillian then?”

Lishia told about their conversation on Friday. “But I didn't tell Gillian everything then. I plan to tell her. And I'm pretty sure she won't be speaking to me when she hears the whole truth.”

“Oh, what tangled webs we weave.” Mrs. Glassman set down her pen and picked up her coffee. “Is that it, or is there something else I should know?”

“I think that's it.” Lishia bit her lip. “But I really am sorry.”

“Yes . . .” Mrs. Glassman reached for her bag. “So am I.”

On their way home from Starbucks, Lishia called Gillian's number, trying to think of a way to begin what was going to be another tough conversation as she listened to the ringing tones.

“Hey, Lishia,” Gillian said cheerfully. “I was just about to call you.”

“Really?”

“Yeah. I just spoke to my lawyer, and she got the results from the drug and alcohol tests back.”

“And?”

“I had high levels of GHB in my bloodstream.”

“GHB?”

“There's a really long medical name for it—gamma-hydroxy-something-or-other—but its street name is Liquid Ecstasy, and it's known as a date rape drug.”

“Seriously?”

“I told my lawyer that you and I planned to confront Brandon, and she would like to be there with us. Is that okay with you?”

“Sure, I guess so. But do you think Brandon will be willing to talk if she's there?”

“She said he might clam up but that she'll give him some free legal advice—like how he may need to get himself a lawyer. Anyway, the upside is that this might help to clear my name. Especially if you confront him too. It would be easy to deny that he'd pulled this once, but twice . . . well, that carries some weight.”

“Well, I'm happy to help.” Lishia knew that she would still have to come clean by confessing her own actions and that Gillian might want to sic her lawyer on her next. But at least she could help Gillian with Brandon first.

“My lawyer can make time for us at four o'clock. Will that work for you?”

“Sure. How do we get Brandon on board?”

“I thought I'd leave that to you. Since you're still a cheerleader and supposedly Riley's best friend, you have the inside track. Maybe you could ask him to meet you or come to your house or something. Then my lawyer and I would pop in, and we'd all sit down and talk—nice and cozy.”

Lishia giggled nervously. “This sounds kinda bizarre—Brandon and me having some clandestine meeting right out of the blue. What if he suspects something?”

“You have to make it sound innocent—maybe act like you're into him or something. He'd love that. Anyway, just get him there. Okay?”

“I'll do what I can.”

After she hung up, she explained the crazy plan to Mom. “I don't know what to do,” she confessed. “I don't really want to lie to him.”

“Didn't you say that he'd acted like he was romantically interested in you at that Christmas party?”

“Yeah, that's right.”

“How about if you take it from there? You wouldn't even have to lie. You could simply say something like, ‘Remember how you were interested—'”

“Yeah! I could say that I had a hard time remembering what happened that night, which is true, but that I thought he was into me and maybe we should talk about it.”

“But where do you plan to meet with him?” Mom asked as she pulled into the driveway.

“Right here,” Lishia declared. “I'll think of a reason to ask him to come over.”

“And I'll be here too,” Mom said, “to listen in the wings.”

It was surprisingly easy to get Brandon to agree to meet with her. She used the line her mom suggested, and when he took the bait, she casually said she'd been wanting to do some Christmas shopping, which was true. Brandon offered to take her anytime she liked, and she suggested he stop by her house around four. “Sounds great, can't wait,” he said cheerfully.

The plan was that she and Brandon would have a soda in the kitchen. Meanwhile, Mom would phone Gillian so that she and the lawyer could drop in on them. But by the time Brandon arrived, Lishia was so nervous that she wished she'd put on an extra coating of antiperspirant.

“Mind if we get a soda first?” she said. “I'm parched.”

“Sounds good.” He followed her into the kitchen. “It's so cool you called, Lishia. I was thinking about you a lot last week, but I was worried you might be mad at me.”

“Why would I be mad at you?” she asked, then instantly wished she hadn't since Gillian and the attorney weren't here yet.

“Just the way you were acting, like I'd done something to offend you.” He gave her an innocent smile.

“Oh, I was in a snit last week. I think I was just mad at everyone.”

He laughed. “Yeah, that's kind of what Riley told me.”