The Best Friend (8 page)

“Because you know if this is God's will, he can provide for you, right?”

“Yes, but—”

“So that is just what we'll do. We'll pray about it. And while I'm at it, I'd like to pray about the girl too. What's her name?”

“Gillian Rodowski.”

“Rodowski?” Mom tilted her head to one side. “That's not a common name.”

“So?”

“Well, there's a Mrs. Rodowski at my school this year. I barely know her, but she recently took over a fifth-grade class during Mrs. Spencer's maternity leave. I remember hearing her saying something about a teenage daughter. Do you think that could be the same Rodowski?”

“I have absolutely no idea.” Suddenly Lishia was uneasy. Hopefully Mom did not actually know Gillian's mother. “But I will say this—Gillian is not too happy that I'm replacing her. I think she might even hold me personally responsible for her downfall.”

“But you said she got arrested for underage drinking. How could that be your fault?”

“I know.” Lishia took a soda from the fridge. “But I think she wants to blame everyone and anyone.”

“Just the same, I will be praying for her,” Mom assured her. “And for you too. Our God is big enough to provide what you need for cheerleading.” Her smile reappeared. “I'm so proud of you, sweetie!”

Lishia gave a stiff smile. “Thanks.” But as she walked to her room, she felt like a heel. Her shoes might be sevens, but she was a size thirteen heel. And she didn't want to think about what Mom had said about praying. Praying was the last thing on Lishia's mind these days. Even if she wanted to pray—and she didn't—she seriously doubted that God would want to listen.

O
n Thanksgiving, Lishia's entire family was supportive and celebratory over her new role as a varsity cheerleader. So much so that she could almost make herself believe that it truly was a good thing—that she'd earned it.

“This is to help you with your rally girl outfit,” Grandma Willis said as she tucked a fifty-dollar bill into Lishia's hand.

“Oh, Grandma—this is too—”

“Don't argue with your elders,” Grandma warned as she pulled on her coat. “I want you to make us proud, Lishia. And I plan to come to some of your games. You know I used to be a rally girl too”—she chuckled—“back in the dark ages.”

Before she left, Aunt Jamie gave Lishia a twenty. “I know it won't get you much,” she admitted, “but maybe it'll help a little.”

“See, God is already providing,” Mom said when Lishia showed her the money.

“And I'll pay you another twenty,” Dad told Lishia, “if you give your mom a break and clean the kitchen.”

Mom started to protest, saying it was too much work for one person, but Lishia insisted it was a good idea and told Mom to go put her feet up. In a way, Lishia was glad to be by herself in the kitchen. It almost seemed like a form of penance—not that she believed in that sort of thing, but she still felt guilty for all the positive attention she was getting for making cheerleader. What would her family say if they knew the rest of the sordid story? As she scrubbed the greasy pots, she told herself that eventually it would all sift out and settle down and she'd feel like her normal self again. She just needed to be patient.

Over the next few days, Lishia practiced with the other cheerleaders, and by Monday she thought she was finally over the hump—she actually felt like she was one of them with as much right to be there as anyone.

“You're a fast learner,” Amanda told her as they finished up practice on Monday afternoon.

“Thanks.” Lishia smiled. “I guess you guys are all good teachers.”

“Keep it up and you'll eventually be as good as Gillian,” Vanessa said.

“She's already that good,” Riley countered.

“I wouldn't go that far.” Vanessa scowled at Riley.

“I wouldn't either,” Lishia said quickly. “Gillian really was good. I still feel sad for her.”

Riley rolled her eyes as she wiped her brow with a sweat towel.

“Gillian is having a real hard time with everything,” Vanessa quietly confided to Lishia. “She called me this weekend and we talked for a couple of hours. She was crying most of the time.”

“Poor Gillian.” Amanda shook her head. “I guess it's a lesson for all of us.”

They all acted like this was true, like they would never make the same mistakes that Gillian had made, and everyone promised to be nicer to Gillian.

“Like that's going to happen,” Riley whispered to Lishia as they went into the locker room.

Lishia tossed her a warning look, but Riley just rolled her eyes again. At times like this Lishia wished that Riley wasn't her “best” friend. In fact, Lishia wished a lot of things that weren't likely to come true. For instance, it seemed that despite how she was beginning to fit in with these girls, it was still completely impossible that she could have a uniform in time for their first game—even if they put a rush on the order, like Mrs. Glassman had suggested today, it was unlikely it would arrive in time since the company said it would take two weeks minimum.

As she got dressed, Lishia started to wonder if all this practicing with the team wasn't a big waste of everyone's time—or maybe these hard workouts would be her punishment—because eventually she'd have to concede that she couldn't get that much money together, and they'd have to go with the second alternate.

“You're being awfully quiet,” Riley said as she drove Lishia home.

“I guess I'm kinda bummed.”

“You're not still riddled with guilt over poor little Gillian?” Riley sounded disgusted.

“No,” Lishia snapped. “I just don't see how I can possibly get enough money to order what I need in time for the first game.”

“You mean you haven't ordered yet?”

“No, of course not. I don't have the money yet.”

“Well, you better get on it, Lishia.” She sounded seriously irritated. “I didn't work this hard to get you on the squad just to have you let us down.”

“
You
worked hard?” Lishia frowned. “What about me?”

“Are you kidding? I worked a lot harder than you for this.” Riley stopped at an intersection and turned to glare at Lishia. “I risked everything for you.”

“How?”

“For starters, I broke into Glassman's computer, remember?”

Lishia nodded soberly. She had nearly forgotten that little part. “Even so, I didn't ask you to do that. And it didn't make any difference as far as me being part of the team.”

“That's what you think.”

“Huh?”

“What if I told you I'd tampered with the votes?”

“You tampered with the votes? Yeah, right!”

Riley pressed her lips tightly together—almost as if she hadn't meant to say that.

“You didn't really tamper with the votes, did you?”

“Never mind!” Riley lurched the car out into the intersection and let out a foul word.

“No, I want to know. What did you mean by that?”

Riley said nothing as she turned onto Lishia's street.

“Out with it,” Lishia insisted. “Spill the beans, Riley. What did you do?”

“Fine.” Riley parked in front of Lishia's house. “If you must know, you were the second alternate—not the first. Are you happy now?”

“Second?”
Lishia gasped. “I was second? Then why am I—”

“Because I fixed it, okay?”

“Fixed it?”

“Yes. I got into Glassman's computer and I simply rearranged the numbers to make sure you'd get on.”

“When did you do all this?”

“Right after you and I became friends.” Riley looked hopefully at Lishia. “I did it for you, Lish. I could tell we were going to be best friends, and I wanted you to be a cheerleader.”

“So what you told me, early on, about how I was first alternate . . . that was all a great big lie?”

“Of course it was a lie. Michelle was first alternate, but she probably would've been disqualified for grades and stuff. You actually lost by quite a few votes. You should thank me.” Riley glared at her. “Instead of acting like a totally spoiled brat.”

“I should thank you?” Lishia was thinking that Riley had ruined her life—and for what? Seriously, who was the spoiled brat here? For several seconds the girls locked angry eyes and neither of them said a word. Lishia was too enraged to speak. How had she let herself get into this mess?

Suddenly Riley's scowl faded into a slightly catty smile. “Don't you start getting any heroic ideas about undoing this by ratting on me. Because I swear, if you tell anyone, we will both go down—big time. I will make it look like it was all your idea, and everyone will believe me. After all, you were the one with the most to gain here. I was already a cheerleader, remember? So don't kid yourself, Lishia—you are in this as thick as I am. No, thicker.”

Lishia tightened her grip on her bag, suppressing the urge to scream and cry and throw a hissy fit. What was wrong with Riley? Oh, yeah, besides being spoiled and manipulative and used to getting her own way—other than that she was just great. Who could ask for a better friend?

“Look,” Riley said in a gentle tone. “Just go with it, Lishia. Can't you see it's for the best . . . for everyone? Even if you tried to tell on me, you know I would deny it. And then I would tell what I know about you.”

“What do you
know
?”

“Just that you went after Gillian first. You provoked her for no reason. Remember when you told her she stunk? There were other girls in the bathroom that night. Amanda would back me. So would Vanessa. We could make it look like you planned this whole thing—right from the get-go. And why not? You had everything to gain. And you know that Coach Glassman's sympathy is already with Gillian.”

Lishia was too stunned to respond. Her so-called best friend was threatening blackmail.

“Don't be mad, Lishia. It's just the way it is.” Riley patted her on the shoulder. “Like I said, in the end it's the best—for everyone. Even Gillian. I heard that Coach Glassman is encouraging her to get some counseling help and alcohol treatment.”

“Right . . .” Lishia gritted her teeth as she reached for the door handle.

“You just need to cool off,” Riley told her. “Then we need a plan for helping you to get that uniform. Call me tonight and let's brainstorm some kind of fundraiser idea. Okay?” She had switched over to her nice, sweet, little girl voice. “We're still friends, aren't we?”

Lishia shrugged. “See ya.” She got out of the car, slammed the door, then took several deep breaths as she walked up to the house. She needed to get a grip on her anger before Mom asked her how her day went. She didn't want to explode and let all this out, didn't want Mom to know the truth. But she had to come up with a way out of this—and being without the funds to order her uniform and things seemed the perfect escape.

“Hello?” Mom called from the kitchen. “Is that you, Lishia?”

“Hey,” Lishia answered. “I'm going to my room now.”

“Not yet!” Mom called back urgently. “I have a surprise for you first!”

Lishia braced herself, trying to paste a happy expression on her face for whatever it was that Mom had, probably a cupcake left over from one of her students' birthday parties. “What is it?” Lishia asked glumly as she came in the kitchen.

“Ta-da!” Mom waved her arms to display a huge arrangement of white and purple items spread all over the kitchen countertops.

Lishia's eyes grew wide as she realized what she was looking at.
“What?”

“Everything you need for cheerleading.” Mom beamed proudly at her. “Can you believe it?”

“Huh?”

“They were Gillian's.” Mom was actually dancing around the kitchen now. “Isn't it wonderful?”

Lishia spirits plummeted even deeper. “Gillian's?”

“Yes. I made a fantastic deal with her mom. She was actually glad to get rid of the stuff. She's so disappointed with Gillian.”

“Gillian was willing to sell this stuff to me?” Lishia picked up a pom-pom and gave it a pathetic shake.

“Gillian didn't have a choice in the matter. Cindy Rodowski told me that her daughter only earned a small part of the money, and Cindy had to pay for the rest. At the time she didn't mind because she thought it was what Gillian needed, you know, to help her get her life on track. But then when it all unraveled, well, let's just say Cindy wasn't too happy. In fact, she said it was like a slap in the face, like Gillian didn't appreciate Cindy's sacrifices.”

“Oh . . .” Lishia set the pom-pom back down and sighed.

“I thought you'd be thrilled.” Mom smiled victoriously. “I know Cindy was hugely relieved to be rid of it—and even make some money. She actually ran home during lunch and loaded it all up in her car. They've been under a lot of financial pressure, and even though she only charged me a fraction of what this stuff is worth, she seemed genuinely happy to get the money. You can pay me back for part of it, and we'll call the rest your birthday present.” Mom picked up a pom-pom and shook it. “Rah! Rah! Rah!”

“I, uh, I don't know what to say.” Lishia really had no words—no words she wanted her mom to hear, anyway.

“How about,
Thanks, Mom—you're the greatest
?” Mom grinned. “Or maybe you can do a cheer for me.”

“Thanks, Mom, you really are the greatest.” Lishia forced a happy face. “Can you take a rain check on the cheer? I've got a bunch of homework.”

“Sure.” Mom gathered up an armload of stuff. “You get the rest of this and we'll pack it all to your room.”

As Lishia gathered an armload of clothes, she smelled something unpleasant. “Oh, that's right, I almost forgot something.”

“Forgot what?”

“Gillian has really strong BO.”

Mom chuckled, then took a sniff. “Oh . . . yeah, I see what you mean.”

“Do you think we can wash it all first?”

“Sure. Let's drop the clothes in the laundry room. I'll get to it later.” She held up a pair of shoes. “And do you know that Gillian's feet are only a half size larger than yours? I thought maybe an extra pair of socks and you'd be okay. Some of these shoes are barely worn, honey.”

Lishia couldn't bear to imagine how Gillian must be feeling. She dumped the clothes into an empty laundry basket. “I sure hope that smell comes out,” she said to Mom.

“I'll use some special detergent,” Mom assured her. “We'll get rid of it.”

“Thanks.” Lishia gave her a genuine smile. “You're one in a million, Mom.”

“Glad you appreciate me. And I know you won't let me down.” She ran her hand over Lishia's head. “Not like Gillian did with her mom.”

Lishia turned away so Mom couldn't see her eyes. Once again, she felt on the verge of frustrated tears. She felt like she was digging herself deeper and deeper into a hole—a big black hole with no way out.