I'm Sort of Okay with This

Four: Ian

"What do you mean you lost it..." my mom turned from my brother to me. "Oh, hello, sweetie."

"Hi, Ian," Colin said.

"Hi," I said hastily, planting a kiss on her cheek. I raced around them to go upstairs. My mother asked me something, but I wasn't paying attention.

I went into my bedroom, shut the door, and changed into my sweats before briefly leaving again. I put in my headphones, switching on a Nirvana song called "Love Buzz."

This was the first time I'd listened to the song. I briefly thought of Abby.

I jogged down the driveway, then past the big houses with their backyard pools, silver Lexuses and white BMWs parked in front of them. I thought it funny that so many of the upper-middle class families, including mine, had pools. In Washington, it was cool and rainy most of the time, and they were usually covered by tarps. We only used our pool twice a year. I think my parents saw it as more of a status symbol than anything.

My heart thumped as I sped through the neighborhood. I avoided my thoughts of Cheyenne, but they jumped in front of me like tripwires. I wasn't even sure if we were still together or not. I figured I should probably call her. I decided I would as soon as I finished running and cleared my jumbled thoughts.

After jogging, my phone vibrated in my pocket as I stood on the porch of my house. I immediately answered, knowing it was Cheyenne.

"Hello?" I said.

"Hi," she said. "I'm really sorry about earlier. I shouldn't have left like that. I know you need to study, I was just mad."

"It's okay," I said. Relief settled in my stomach. "I know. I was disappointed, too. But if I fail this class, my Dad's gonna kill me."

"I understand," she said.

"I love you," I declared.

"I love you, too."

She hung up the phone, and I smiled, feeling better than I had in a few days.

I woke up early the next morning and downed two protein drinks. They tasted like vanilla-flavored chalk, but I drank them anyway. I didn't know why. I guessed it was because all my teammates did, and they were supposed to make me stronger.

I left the house and went to pick up James, a weird spring of liveliness in my chest. We arrived at the game early and went into the locker room. Rafe and Connor were messing around by the door. They wrestled and pushed each other, but stopped when they saw us. Rafe gave me a long look and smirked, but didn't say anything.

James and I went to our lockers and changed into our uniforms. Our hats and jerseys were yellow, South Sound Smolts stitched on across the front in white, swirling lettering. James excused himself to use the bathroom, leaving me alone.

I was lacing up my cleats when Connor approached me with a smug look on his face. Rafe and Caleb had already gone out to the field to start warming up.

"Hey, Kennedy," he said. He leaned up against one of the lockers, his hands in his pockets.

"Hi," I said.

He stared at me for a moment, still simpering.

"Look, I gotta tell you something. As your friend, I think you oughta know."

I smiled, though my heart rate quickened a little.

"What is it?"

He chewed his lip.

"You didn't hear this from me, got it?"

"Okay," I said slowly.

"So, somebody, whose name I won't disclose, told me that Rafe fucked Cheyenne at Sasha Simmons' party last Friday."

"What?" I said.

He raised up his palms. "You didn't hear it from me."

"You're lying," I said. "She wouldn't do that. She doesn't even believe in premarital sex. Her family's Catholic."

"It's just what I heard, man," he said. "Believe whatever you want."

"Whoever told you that made it up," I said. I wouldn't believe it, not if someone paid me.

"Maybe they did," he said. "Maybe they didn't."

He left the locker room without another word.

James came back from the bathroom. I stared at the floor, in awe of what I heard. I knew Cheyenne was upset that I couldn't come to the party, but I didn't think she'd do something like that.

"You okay?" James asked.

"Yeah," I said, swallowing. "I'm fine."

We went to the field and did a few warm-up drills. My legs were shaking and I couldn't pay attention. All of my throws were crooked. I just couldn't think straight, and I couldn't look at Rafe Powers without feeling like I was gonna vomit.

When the game started, I was first up to pitch. I spotted my parents and brother on the bleachers, all watching eagerly.

My vision was blurry and my palms were damp with sweat.

When I stood on the mound, all I could picture was Rafe and Cheyenne tangled in each other's limbs. Even though I didn't believe it, I couldn't help but wonder what it would look like if it were true.

My first pitch was awful. It flew down to the batter's ankles. The next three weren't much better, and he walked to first base. My skin started to boil. Everyone's eyes drilled into me like rusty screws. I could see my father's brow furrowing with disapproval, even though I couldn't see him from where I was standing.

I walked the next batter as well. My fastballs weren't fast and my curveballs weren't curved. I managed to throw one strike on the next batter, but I threw three more balls after that.

It was the worst I'd ever played in my life.

My batting was bad, too. I only managed to make contact with the ball once, and it went out-of-bounds. I continued to pitch like crap for the next inning, Coach Peebles took me out of the game shortly after, and put in Caleb instead. James tried to assure me that it was okay, and I was only having a rough game, but I didn't believe him.

When the game was over, I went to greet my parents. A mild terror hung at the back of my throat at the concept of facing my father. He had his arms crossed over his chest when I approached. My mother smiled sadly, and Colin hugged me. I envied his youth, the lack of parental pressure on his shoulders.

"What the hell was that, son?" my father questioned. His gaze burned into my eyes, and stuttered some mixture of an apology and an explanation before my mother turned and glared at him.

"Jerry!" she said. "Don't antagonize him, he feels bad enough as it is."

"I'm not trying to antagonize him, Carol, I'm only asking what the hell happened out there," he said. "I mean, what the hell is your problem, Ian? You struck out ten guys last game."

"I don't know what happened, I just," I started to explain myself again, but before I could, he stormed off, muttering under his breath and shaking his head.

"It's okay, sweetie," my mother said. She squeezed my shoulder. "You'll do better next time."

I sighed and studied my feet. I wished I could dissolve into the air.