Monster of the Week

by F. T. Lukens

  “Um, no. No thanks. That talk was mortifying when I was thir­teen, and I can only imagine it would be at least ten times worse now.”

  She pursed her lips. “Well, I’ve had to update it since the whole…” She waved her hands. “…liking boys thing. I’ve done research. I’ve added new content. See, when two young men like each other very much they may want to experiment—”

  “Oh no. No no no no no!” Bridger held up a hand and closed his eyes. “Nope. No thank you. I appreciate the effort. Ten out of ten on that front but still, sadly, would not recommend. I’m good. Leo’s good. We’re good. Thank you.”

  “Now who’s dramatic.”

  “I just…” He opened his eyes. “I’m good.”

  “I gathered.” She reached over and ruffled his hair. “By the way, your dad called.”

  He groaned. “Ugh.”

  “Oh, stop. He just wanted to check in and see how you were doing. He’s going to call back on your birthday.”

  His pending headache threatened a resurgence as he slumped into the cushions. “Yay for the twice-a-year awkward conversation. Just the gift I wanted.”

  “Bridger,” she said, slightly admonishing, “be nice. He’s your dad. He just… isn’t very good at it.”

  “Understatement.” Bridger turned back to the TV and frowned when the program flashed a picture of Nosferatu and then panned over a cemetery. He waved at the screen. “What are you watching?”

  “Oh, it’s a silly monster show. I always get the myth questions wrong on Jeopardy. I thought I’d bone up.”

  Bridger grabbed the remote from the coffee table and unmuted the channel.

  The reporter, a woman with blond hair and piercing blue eyes, looked straight into the camera. “Whether the creature sighted here was W.W. Pool, a vampire chased out of England in the 1800s, or whether it was an ancient evil unearthed during the construction and subsequent collapse of the Chesapeake and Ohio Railroad’s Church Hill Tunnel, we’ll never know.”

  Bridger did know. He’d studied the entry on W.W. Pool in the myth guidebook. Pavel had met him a few years ago while on vacation. Pool was a nice guy, by all accounts, save the blood-­sucking.

  “But with strong evidence that something supernatural is haunting this cemetery and preying on the students of the nearby university, this makes the Richmond Vampire our Monster of the Week.” She smiled, all perfect white teeth, but it didn’t reach her eyes, and there were absolutely no lines around her mouth. Her tone lacked inflection, and, beneath her television veneer, she seemed almost bored. “Check our schedule to see when we might be stopping in your town. We’ll be taking a break for the summer but join us in the fall for our special month-long series about a recent hotbed of supernatural activity—Midden, Michigan. I’m Summer Lore and thanks for watching.”

  Bridger dropped the remote. “What the fuck?”

  Chapter 2

  “It’s your day off,” Pavel said when he answered the mirror. His hair was in more disarray than usual, and he yawned, rubbing a hand over his stubble. “And it’s very early.”

  “Did I wake you up?” Bridger asked, slipping on his shoes. “Some of us have to be up at the crack of dawn because we have school that starts unscientifically early.”

  “Unscientifically?”

  “Studies show teenagers need more sleep than adults, and yet we start school two hours earlier than the standard work day. And then we have extracurriculars and homework and statistically spend more hours working than a nine-to-fiver.”

  Pavel thumped from his bedroom into the kitchen; the back­ground changed as he moved. “A travesty.”

  “Tell me about it,” Bridger mumbled. He teased his fingers through his hair, trying to tame his bedhead that rivaled Pavel’s.

  “Is that why you’re calling? The unfairness of sleep and expecta-­tions?”

  “No. Um. No.” Bridger fidgeted, tugging at the cuffs of his hoodie. “Have you ever heard of the show Monster of the Week?”

  Pavel’s sleepiness evaporated in a blink. He narrowed his eyes, and the teasing vibe disappeared. “Yes.”

  “Do you know they’re coming to Midden?”

  “Midden.”

  “Yes.”

  “Huh.”

  “Yeah. Here. This town. Our town. Filming. For their next season.”

  “Huh.”

  “Yeah, apparently all the shenanigans from last fall made their radar.”

  “Huh.”

  Bridger frowned. “Did I break you? Is that all you can say?”

  Pavel’s look could only be described as withering and unamused. “You didn’t break me.”

  “Well, what do you mean?” Bridger tapped his foot. “Huh, as in ‘that’s interesting, Bridger, thank you for the information’? Or huh as in ‘panic now’?”

  Pavel studied Bridger and was silent for so long Bridger thought the mirror might have dropped the call. Could the mirror drop a call? Was that something that could happen? If he went through a tunnel would he lose magical call service?

  “Um, you still there?”

  Pavel twitched. “Yes. I’m here. I was just— ” Red seeped across the bridge of his nose in an uncharacteristic blush. Bridger’s internal warning claxons blared. “Thank you for alerting me. I will look into it.”

  Bridger shrugged on his backpack. He was going to be late if Pavel didn’t at least pretend to worry soon. “And?”

  “That’s all.”

  “That’s all? Seriously? That’s all? It’s a television show. A show about cryptids. Literally, about exposing cryptids and researching sightings. And all you’ve got is you’ll look into it?”

  Pavel waved away Bridger’s growing apprehension. “It’s fine. Intermediaries deal with researchers all the time. There are so many of these shows that we have a protocol.”

  “Does that protocol involve maybe showing a little more concern than you are right now?”

  Pavel gave him a flat look. “You’re panicking.”

  “I’m not panicking!”

  “Bridger,” Pavel pinched the bridge of his nose, “I haven’t had enough tea yet to decipher your ramblings. But please don’t worry about this. Go to school. I will handle it.”

  Blowing out a breath, Bridger checked to make sure he had his keys. “Fine. Fine. I’m going to school.”

  “Have a good weekend and a good birthday. I’ll talk to you soon.”

  “Okay. But call me if you need me. Seriously. I’ll be—”

  The compact winked out.

  “Here.”

  Bridger sagged. He ran a hand over his face. Maybe he was overreacting, panicking in a way that only he could, overthinking, perseverating on the worst-case scenarios. Pavel could handle this. There was protocol. He knew what he was doing.

  Most of the time.

  Kind of. A little bit.

  Bridger rubbed his temple.

  Crap.

  Bridger slammed his locker door shut and leaned against it as Astrid hefted her backpack over her shoulder. Behind her, a big banner congratulating the graduating seniors fluttered against the wall. Next to it hung a poster reminding everyone to purchase their prom tickets. And just across the way was yet another poster about cap and gown fittings. The senior hallway was a perfect storm of constant reminders that he was on the brink of adulthood and his world was changing. Bridger did his best to swallow his insecurities. He wasn’t successful.

  Astrid clutched her calculus book closer to her chest. “Are you certain the show meant here? As in this Midden?”

  Tapping his phone, Bridger pulled up the Monster of the Week website where it proclaimed in big, flashing, block letters that its next stop was indeed their home town. He held it out to Astrid. “Yes.”

  She squinted. “Oh, shit.”

  “That’s what I said! I called Pavel this mor
ning, but he doesn’t seem to think it’s a big deal. Apparently, intermediaries deal with these pseudo info shows all the time.”

  “Well, there’s your answer. Nothing to worry about.”

  Bridger shook his head. “Nothing to worry about? Do you not remember last semester?” He dropped his voice. “You beat up an evil old lady with your hockey stick. I was almost drowned by lake mermaids.”

  “Yeah, but everything was out of whack because of your boy­friend’s hero cycle. It’s fine now.” She brushed her blue hair off her shoulder. “What’s not fine is that I have a calculus quiz this afternoon and I’m not doing well in that class. And I’ve still not been asked to prom.”

  “Astrid,” Bridger rested his head on his locker, “you’re not taking this as seriously as I’d hoped. What if this Summer Lore lady comes here and finds the unicorn? Or runs off the bakery ghost? Or reveals Grandma Alice? She could disrupt everything.”

  Astrid rolled her eyes. “Bridge, I think you should trust Pavel on this one. He’s the expert.” She patted his shoulder. “And I think you need to focus a little more on graduating and less on myth emergencies that aren’t going to happen.”

  “Trust Pavel? Trust the man who didn’t think getting stabbed by a manticore tail was a big deal? That guy? He is the master of understatement. He’s the literal embodiment of the ‘this is fine’ meme. You know, the one with the dog sitting in a room engulfed in flames, with the speech bubble ‘this is fine’ over his head when it is very much not fine?”

  “I know my memes, Bridger,” she said, clearly insulted.

  “Right, but what I’m saying is that Pavel isn’t always a good barometer for when it’s time to freak out.”

  “Like you are now?”

  “I’m not freaking out.”

  “You’re on the precipice, my dude.”

  “I just…” Bridger gritted his teeth. “This is the best my life has been in a long time, Astrid. I don’t want someone barging in and ruining this for me.” He pushed his hand through his hair. “I’m happy.”

  She paused, and her expression softened to the one she’d given Marv. “You’re a mess. But okay. Fine. Does your mom work tonight?”

  “Yeah.”

  “Your house. After school. We’re going to Netflix this bitch and her show. If what they report is close to what is in the cryptid guidebook, then we’ll freak out.”

  “Um.” Bridger bit his lip. “I’m supposed to meet Leo when the team gets back from their away game tonight.”

  “Oh, my God. It was so much easier when your social life only consisted of me.” She whined, but Bridger wasn’t fooled. She was secretly pleased he had found a few other friends and that he wasn’t as lonely as he used to be. She hid that secret under an exterior of snark, but he had noticed the fond looks she shot his way when he talked with Leo or Zeke or Luke—like he was all grown up and saving China.

  “No, it’s good. He can meet us at the house. If you don’t mind.”

  “Why would I mind? I’m all for you being cute with your boyfriend.” She raised an eyebrow, and her piercings glinted in the light. “As long as everything stays unicorn friendly.”

  Bridger groaned. “I never should have told you about that!”

  She cackled. “Sorry. It was too good to pass up. Anyway, after school we’ll meet at your house and see if we really need to panic. And you’re paying for the takeout.”

  Bridger puffed his cheeks and slumped. “Thank you, Astrid. You really are the Chidi to my Eleanor.”

  At the reference, Astrid winked, pleased. She adored The Good Place. “You can repay me by helping me study at lunch.”

  “Are you sure you want my help? I stopped at trig. Math is, uh, not my strong suit.”

  “Right. I’ll ask Janet.” She slapped his arm, and he staggered. “Don’t worry, Bridger. I’m sure there is nothing to worry about.”

  Bridger fervently hoped she was right. Things had been relatively quiet for six months; he only needed to hold out a little longer.

  Bridger’s morning went smoothly. He managed to dodge questions from his teachers about what he wanted to major in because he had no idea. He stayed out of the conversations that buzzed around him about who was planning a major promposal and who was going backpacking through Europe after graduation and who had barely passed their language requirement. When the bell rang, Bridger rocketed out of his seat and wove through the hallway to the lunchroom, ready for a reprieve from his own circling thoughts. When he squeezed into the line, Bridger’s stomach growled, and he was ready for a hot and greasy high school lunch.

  “Hey, Bridge.” A girl behind him leaned over the shoulder of her friend. He vaguely recognized her as the underclassman sister of one of the seniors, certainly not someone who knew him well enough that she should feel comfortable using his nickname.

  “Um, yes?”

  “We’re totally voting for you and Leo as best couple for the senior superlatives. You two are so cute together. Seriously, you are relationship goals.”

  “Oh,” he said, face flushing. “Thanks.”

  “We ship you guys so hard,” her friend said. “Like OTP of my heart.” She made a heart with her hands and bumped them against her chest.

  Bridger was afraid that he understood what they said. He blamed Astrid—and a few fanfics he’d read over the years. Hey, when canon content failed to deliver, you could always count on the fan authors, and he was certain these two had at least one AO3 account between them.

  He cleared his throat. “Wow. That’s great.”

  “You know that Colton came out because of you, right? Like, we all knew he was gay, but he didn’t say it until after you and Leo went to homecoming together.”

  Bridger had no idea who the hell Colton was and he really wanted out of this conversation. It had veered from kind of flattering, run straight through awkward, then barreled into cringe­worthy in the span of a few moments.

  “I’m sorry; I don’t know who he is. But good for him. I hope his friends and family are as supportive as mine are.”

  “He’s a freshman, like us. And we totally told him it was okay to be gay. We don’t mind at all.”

  Bridger furrowed his brow. “That’s nice, but you know he doesn’t need your permission, right? Even if you weren’t comfortable, it would still be okay for him to be gay if that’s how he identifies. I mean, it’s great you want to be understanding, but maybe phrase it a little better.”

  They were obviously as surprised as Bridger was at his little lecture because they both looked away. Their faces reddened, and one of them looked about to cry.

  “Uh,” he said, grimacing, looking around for help as the line inched forward. He needed to flee, quickly and gracefully. “Thanks for your vote? I’ll tell Leo.”

  And they went from dejected underclassmen to effervescent fangirls in one second flat. He swore their eyes sparkled.

  “Really?” one of them squeaked, hands over her mouth. “That’s so awesome.”

  “Yeah. What are your names?”

  And that’s how he left the lunch line with a hastily scribbled note from Laura and Courtney in his pocket. At his usual table, Bridger put down his tray, then plopped into the seat between Astrid and Zeke.

  “You know,” Astrid said, popping a cherry tomato in her mouth from her salad. “It’s not a good look getting freshman girls’ numbers when you’re a senior and especially not when you’re dating the hottest guy in school.”

  “Oh, my God.” Bridger dropped his face in his hands. “Is that what it looked like?”

  “Yes,” Astrid said at the same time Zeke said, “Sorry, bro.”

  “Ugh. No. It was… they were trying to tell me things about their friend who is gay and voting for Leo for a superlative and, really, I don’t remember, because I was a little mortified.”

  Zeke nudged Bridger with
his elbow. “Hard to imagine we were that small once.”

  “Zeke,” Bridger said, “I’ve known you my whole life, and you were never that small.”

  Zeke shook his head, then turned to the conversation on his right. Bridger turned to Astrid on his left and found her attention already back on the field hockey girls.

  He sighed and picked at his fries. Leo didn’t have the same lunch period, so Bridger didn’t get to see him much during the day. Because baseball practice ran so long after school, Leo woke up early on weekdays and completed his homework before the first bell, which made him unavailable for morning locker talk. Then with Bridger struggling through AP Bio and AP Comparative Government in the morning and Leo in Visual Arts and Psychology on the other side of the school, they didn’t even see each other in the hall. Their third blocks were near each other, but Leo took Journalism and Bridger had snuck into a mythology elective, because hey, why not.

  For fourth block, Bridger had somehow conned his way onto the yearbook staff, while Leo, with Astrid, labored through Calculus. Bridger had no desire at all to take pictures or write copy, so he used the yearbook class as a study hall whenever he wasn’t coerced into typing captions and senior quotes. With the yearbook mostly finished, the staff goofed off a lot, which was a reprieve after months spent confirming with students that they really wanted an excerpt from Rick & Morty to be their high school legacy.

  With their schedules at odds and Bridger’s job and Leo’s baseball practices and games, they had very few opportunities to socialize. At lunch, Bridger was left with a conglomeration of Astrid’s friends on one side and Leo’s on the other. Zeke was always welcoming, especially after they’d resolved the tension between them because of Bridger’s early missteps with Leo. And Astrid was Astrid, easily able to navigate between the sports teams and the geeks.

  “And then she said that she wanted to interview all of the students at the beach the day that Bridger drowned.”

  Bridger snapped his head up and zeroed in on Lacey. He’d known her since they were small, but she hadn’t paid any attention to him since elementary school, not until he was suddenly thrust back into her orbit through Leo. She was beautiful and apt to be Prom Queen and she volunteered at the local nursing home on weekends because she had loved her nana fiercely.