Terrestrial Alien ✔

Chapter 23: From the Other Side of a Fence

Joshua

Ethan's make-up game was scheduled to start around noon, and I find myself sitting hunched on the bleachers a good half hour before hand. I really just wanted to get out of the house, away from Shari's suffocating bubbliness and her endless barrage of questions. To get some fresh air.

I grip the apple in my hand tightly, feeling it slide under my grip. I grabbed it on my way out with the intention of it being my breakfast, but I haven't taken a bite out of it yet. Instead, I simply feel the wax rubbing off on my hands. I forgot to wash it.

With a sigh of frustration, I make myself stop fidgeting and I take a bite. Ethan and his team should be showing up soon, so I guess now if I don't want to think about my problems, all I can do is wait. The field lies on the other side of the fence from me, and it looks oddly empty without any players to scuff it up.

Absentmindedly, I eat my apple, and I wait.

Some parents show up, but I don't pay much attention to them. Maybe I look intimidating, or maybe they can tell I'm in a foul mood somehow, because none of them sit near me.

Ethan and his team thankfully show up not long after, all in uniform and rowdy as they head in a group up from the gym. Why they met there, I have no idea. But they look pumped up and ready to go.

I spot Ethan in the crowd easily; he has his cap on rather than his helmet, and he already has the eye black drawn on his cheek bones that make baseball players look so cool. He looks so happy with his teammates, and as I watch them, I almost wish he wouldn't notice me. I'm sure he'll have to talk to me about what he saw yesterday eventually, but it doesn't have to me now. I don't have to kill his good mood now.

I feel the tightness crawling up my throat, and I'm ready to get up and leave when he glances my way. My body stiffens, and I wince. For a moment, as my gaze meets his, I can see the way his smile fades a bit. Then he's rallying it right back up again, and he says something to the teammate next to him. I secretly will him to stay with his friends, to not come over, but it's no use.

Ethan makes a beeline for me, and I sink deeper into my seat.

He has his bat swung over his shoulder, and he looks like a baseball posterboy as he makes his way over, apologising with a smile to the parents and their children that he has to crawl over to get to me, seated as far from convenience as possible. Second to last row behind first base.

I decide not to look at him as he stops on the row in front of me, and there's a stiff moment between us as he stands there; I know he's watching me, but I refuse to glance at him. I don't know what ignoring him earns me, but it feels like the easiest option at the moment. Even though it's probably not the most original or clever.

Finally, Ethan lets out a little sigh, and he plops down on the bleacher beside me with a clank that makes me jump. He sets his bat down beside him with a tinny sound, and I find myself glancing at that. That thing kind of is like a weapon. No wonder the characters in movies keep them by their beds for burglars—if I was a burglar and I saw one of those, I would fuck right off.

I spare a glance to Ethan without turning my head towards him, and I find he's looking at his lap. I can see him thinking. Hell, I can practically hear him. I try to keep my expression from twisting, but I don't know how successful I am. I can see all the questions churning in his mind, and I steel myself for them.

Finally, Ethan looks back at me, and I'm ready for whatever he's going to ask.

But the questions never come.