Page 27 of The Cheerleader

“Good luck with that,” I mutter. For some reason, I don’t think she’s his type. She seems too serious.

“Did you hear that?” Judy says loud enough for us all to hear. “The team’s lady killer wants to see you tonight at Huskies. Are you going to meet him?”

I want to shout at the ridiculous girl we’re right here, but I turn away, not wanting to listen anymore.

“Do you read lips or something?” I hear Susie say in spite of myself as we walk away.

When Liz laughs, I don’t turn around and try not to start running. She says loudly, “We’ll all go. We deserve pizza tonight.”

Eldy grins at me, and I smack his head.

“You’re just jealous,” he says.

“Of what exactly?” I say in my disinterested monotone to annoy him.

“Because the Great Dane has scored again.”

“You’re getting ahead of yourself, Eldy,” I say. He may be known as Dane to all the girls on campus, but I can’t call him that without thinking of Scooby Doo, a Great Dane cartoon dog, or worse, some Nordic prince—which he’s not. The rest of the team, for whatever reason, followed my cue when I started calling him Eldy, and now he has to live with the nickname in the locker room. And everywhere else when I’m around.

He elbows me in my pads, but I feel it and squash the urge to wince at the sharp pain. The bruising on my ribs underneath the pads could be a fracture. I don’t know for sure because I declined the team doc’s suggestion to get an X-ray.

“Didn’t you hear Liz?” he says, oblivious as usual, in his own self-absorbed world. “We’re on for Huskies tonight with the cheerleaders.”

“I’m not deaf.” I put my helmet on the bench, glad to be away from the mini tramp, the cheerleaders, and their incessant talking and giggling. Liz is the only person on the squad I know or care to know.

With the possible exception of Susie Bennett because I can't get rid of the idea that I know her from some fucking place.

Not that it matters.

Dane follows me, his helmet still on his head. “You have to come out with us to Huskies tonight.”

“Are you going to bug me to go out every night until I do?”

He grins and nods. “I know you want to. Pizza⁠—”

“Fuck you.” In truth, I like the food at Huskies enough to tolerate a short stint of giggling girls for it—not that I make a steady diet of pizza. I’m working on staying lean, and I’ve noticed too much pizza doesn’t work for that.

He slaps my back. “Don’t worry. The girls will leave you alone. I’ll grab all the attention. Except for Liz, of course.”

“You can have her attention too. She’s not mine. I told you we’re not a thing. We broke up last winter.”

“Are you sure? Because I heard her stop by last night⁠—”

I whip my head around and look at him as we reach the water barrel. Grabbing a cup, I look away and get some water, which I pour half in my mouth and half over my head.

“It was nothing. She was drunk. She didn’t stay.”

“I know.” He pauses, and I can feel him watching me.

“What?” I grumble, waiting for his usual accusation.

“You need to get over her, man. Move on. Try someone new⁠—”

“Nothing to get over, and I don’t need anyone new. Haven’t you been listening? This is our year, Eldy. We’re going to win the conference.”

He laughs. “And you’re going to get a fat NFL contract.”

I frown and raise my hand to scratch my face, disguising the middle finger I give him. Coach is a stickler about sportsmanship and team unity, and he’s called me out on my so-called lewdness before.