I'm Sort of Okay with This

Four: Ian

After school on Friday, I met Cheyenne at the coffee shop by our school. I felt bad about canceling our plans to study on Thursday. I wanted to make it up to her. She'd been so off lately and I couldn't help but think it had to do with me.

I went up to the counter and brought our coffee back to the table we were sitting at. Cheyenne stared down at her phone, but shut it off as I set her latte in front of her. She looked so beautiful, her hair curled perfectly, her white cardigan hugging her body, pink Keds on her feet.

"Do you want any extra cream or anything?" I asked. I pulled up a chair. The legs squeaked against the linoleum floors.

"No, thank you," she said. Her words were cold and dry, like ice cubes on a freezing platter.

I bit my lip. Once again, I could sense her displeasure with me. Her back was stiff and she wouldn't make eye contact.

"How was your day," I asked,. I tried to keep things amiable. I didn't want to fight with her.

"Fine," she said. She didn't give any further details. She usually talked about her classes, or student council, or complained about her friend Haley, who she secretly thought was kind of annoying. Today, though, she said nothing. She didn't even ask me about my own day.

"Look, I'm really sorry about Tuesday," I said. "I had to study."

"Study?" she questioned. "Since when do you study?"

"Since I'm about to fail English," I said. My heart started to pound. "If I don't get my grades up, I can't play baseball. I've got a game tomorrow, I'm pitching."

"Baseball," she repeated. "It's like all you care about is baseball. You don't even have time for me anymore. First it was the party, now it's this."

"Baby, I was sick," I said.

Cheyenne rolled her eyes. "You seemed fine the day before."

"I don't know," I said, "I just started feeling crappy later in the day."

I winced upon thinking about that night, the chills, the taste of the vomit in my mouth. She didn't say anything, taking her eyes off me.

"Baseball is really important to me," I said. "And my to Dad. The scouts are already looking at guys, I could get a scholarship."

"And if you don't?" she asked. "Ian, if you don't get the scholarship, what are you going to do? Your grades aren't that good and you have no other skills."

"I do too," I said weakly.

"Like what?"

I tried think of what I liked aside from baseball. I was starting to feel sick. I hated arguing with her and I was sure some people were looking at us.

"I'm leaving," she said, rising.

I cracked my knuckles.

"I'm sorry," I mumbled. "I didn't mean to..."

I tried to explain myself, but she was already gone.

***
I went home after our fight, after I paid for the coffee in a hurry and rushed out of the building. I nearly ran a red light on the way home because I was so distracted. Sweat rolled down my back and my hands quivered on the steering wheel.

I lived in a gated community, in a rather large house with a big yard and a small pool in the back. My mother had planted a generous amount of shrubbery in front of the house, rose bushes and little white flowers that smelled like perfume.

I walked through the front door to find my mother arguing with my ten-year-old brother, Colin. Her hands were on her hips as she peered down at him and frowned.