Page 60 of The Cheerleader

Dane lets go with a whistle to get the outdoor crowd’s attention, then he does what I’d swear is the impossible—he herds them all inside with the help of his teammates.

Once the kegs are in the kitchen, most of the stragglers follow, leaving only a few partyers out near the tree line smoking weed or butts. I stay outside as long as possible to avoid the crush and help distribute the cups of beer and fold up the tables.

“Look at you, Princess,” Dane says as he takes the folding table from me with one hand. He leans it against the wall near the back door. “You’re a worker bee too, getting your hands dirty with the rest of us.”

“Maybe you should revise my nickname to something else.” Anything else. I can only hope. The princess label makes me feel like a big fraud, or worse, an outsider.

“Maybe. I’ll think on it. Or maybe I’ll consult with Bryan. He’ll know⁠—”

“Why would you say that?”

“No reason. You two seemed to hit it off at Huskies.”

I wonder if he saw us go out back and knows we kissed. But I keep my cool. “He’s okay. He’s really Liz’s… friend. More than mine.”

“I wasn’t talking about you being friends…” He lets his words trail off evilly, like he’s trying to play Puck in A Midsummer Night’s Dream.

“You’re a real tease, aren’t you?” I don’t wait for his answer when I spot Liz in the doorway, thank god, because his implication stirs my guilty conscience and complicated feelings about Bryan.

“There you are,” she says to me. “Come inside.” She takes my arm. “We’re having a chugging contest, and we need someone who’s not wasted to judge.”

I jump at the chance and give Dane a wave over my shoulder.

“Trouble is as trouble does,” Dane calls after me, and I have no idea what that’s supposed to mean. Then again, he’s been drinking every third beer he’s been pouring, so there should be no expectation of sense made by anything that comes from his mouth.

Liz leads me through the hot crush of people into the small living room where someone’s put two tall glasses of beer on a rickety TV tray—which is the kind of idea only a drunk person would think is a good one. Mack Delaney is standing over the glasses, guarding them until we get there.

Liz raises my hand. “Here’s our judge. Let’s get ready for this showdown.” The crowd makes way for me to stand opposite Mack. Liz pulls me into the neutral position between them.

I whisper, “Have you ever chugged before?”

She laughs and shakes her head. “First time for everything.”

“You ready to call the contest, Susie?” Mack asks.

I nod, self-conscious that I’m not really having fun when everyone else around me is grinning, laughing, and making merry. I feel a sudden kinship with Bryan—wherever he is, the lucky duck—because he’s not in the middle of this craziness.

I say to Mack, “You’re chugging against Liz?”

He nods. “Yeah, why? Should be a piece of cake, right?”

“She’s never chugged before,” I tell him because it doesn’t seem fair.

He looks worried for a blink, then Lenny slaps his back.

“Great. You got this in the bag, Mack baby.”

“We’ll see.” Liz’s smile is wider than her chugging experience would justify, but I tell myself it’s all in fun. The idea that I’m like a referee inside the crush of a boxing match takes hold, and I know what to do.

I take a deep breath and use my biggest voice. “Here we go, ladies and gentlemen. The contestants are ready. Mack Delaney versus Liz McNeil in tonight’s chugging contest at the football team headquarters here at Barbara Estates.” An eruption of cheers and applause ignites my smile, and I go on.

“Place your hands on your glasses. Start when I say go. First one to drink every drop without spilling and then returning the glass to the table… wins!”

Chants of chug-chug-chug start up, and I have to raise my hands to get the floor back.

“Ready…. Set… Go!” I step back, and the cheering is loud and raucous. They spill a lot as they dump beer down their throats. Maybe my requirement for no spilling was unrealistic because there’s a lot of liquid, like half a pitcher, in those tall glasses.

My eyes gravitate to Liz, not because it looks like she’s winning, but because she’s struggling, and she doesn’t look well. I wonder if she’s done this before or if she’s good at it. I’ve never seen her chug before.