Monster of the Week

by F. T. Lukens

  He worked until it was time to go home. Pavel hadn’t returned. Bridger tore the information from his notebook and left it on the table in the study. He waved at Mindy when he left, then rode the bus home. He oozed into his house and texted his mom that he’d arrived home from work.

  Feeling like a slug, Bridger took a shower, then dressed in pajamas. He made a soggy grilled cheese and ate while responding to texts from Leo and Astrid that had accumulated over the day. He climbed the stairs to his room and printed his paper for Astrid to review.

  His phone rang just as he was contemplating going to bed. His dad’s number flashed over his screen. Of course. His day wasn’t shitty enough as it was, might as well add a conversation with his homophobic dad into the mix. Eyes squeezed shut, Bridger swiped over the screen and accepted the call. “Hello?”

  “Hey, Bud,” his dad said. “Look, I wanted to talk—”

  “I don’t go by that anymore,” Bridger said, interrupting. “I haven’t since I was eight. You can call me Bridger. Or you can call me Bridge if you feel like shortening it, but not Bud.” Bridger was met with silence. He swallowed. “Dad?”

  “Yeah, sorry, I’m here. I just… okay. Bridger. I’ll stick to it.”

  “Thank you.”

  “So anyway, I wanted to talk. Do you have a minute?”

  “Yeah. I do.”

  “I want to apologize for leaving the other night. Your mom pointed out to me that it was a dick move and that I should’ve stayed and talked.”

  “Yeah. It was.”

  Another pause. His dad was obviously waiting for absolution, but Bridger had had a bad day and was feeling a bit like a dick himself. Maybe it was hereditary. He kept his mouth shut and allowed his dad to flounder. He could drown for all Bridger cared. He wasn’t going to be throwing out the proverbial life raft. He was eighteen. His dad was forty. His dad could deal.

  His dad cleared his throat. “I still want to come to your graduation. Would that be okay with you?”

  Bridger bit his lip. “Yeah. That would be cool.”

  “Great. Well, I have to run—”

  “Are you going to ask me about my boyfriend?” Wow, way to make it awkward.

  “I, I don’t know what to say. What do you want me to say, Bud? Bridger. Sorry. Bridger. Old habits.”

  “I want you to tell me why you left the other night?” Bridger sat on the edge of his bed.

  “Did your mom talk to you?”

  “Yes. She left work to come sit with me after you left. Because she’s a good mom. And she talked to me. But I want to hear it from you.”

  “I didn’t know how to react. It’s not like I have a problem with gay people. I have a female coworker who has a wife.”

  Bridger refrained from rolling his eyes and then remembered his dad couldn’t see him, so he did it anyway.

  “But you’re not cool having a son who has a boyfriend.”

  “I didn’t say that.”

  “Then why did you leave?”

  “Because I didn’t know how to react, okay? Is that what you want to hear? I see you on the school newspaper with another boy. Right there on the front page.”

  “What does that mean?”

  “I don’t know. It wasn’t subtle.”

  Subtle? “What? Am I supposed to live in the closet?”

  “No. No, Bud. That’s not what I’m saying. I just… you blindsided me. Okay? I didn’t grow up with that lifestyle being out and open. And it definitely wasn’t in the school paper. But I’m learning. And I’ll do what I need to do to understand you better.”

  Lifestyle. In the open. Bridger rubbed his temple. His dad was playing “all the wrong words” bingo. His tension headache grew with each passing second.

  “I don’t have time for this,” Bridger muttered, chin dropping to his chest.

  “What was that?” His dad’s voice went sharp.

  Bridger cringed. “Let’s just start over and pretend the last few minutes didn’t happen. Okay? Yes, come to graduation. After that, when I’m off school for the summer and don’t have a million things to worry about, we can talk more.”

  There was another lengthy pause, long enough for Bridger to start formulating his dad’s response in his head. He had managed What do you have to worry about? You’re only eighteen when his dad finally spoke.

  “Okay. It’s taken me longer to deal with my mom’s estate anyway. I should be around for a few weeks of the summer.”

  Oh. Bridger hadn’t realized reconciliation had a time limit. But, whatever.

  “Sounds good. I’ll see you at graduation.”

  “Text me the details. I don’t trust your mom to send the correct ones.”

  Oh, for the love of— “Sure, Dad. I will.”

  Bridger hung up and fell backward onto his bed. Marv jumped up next to him and curled under his chin; her fluffy tail hit him in the eye. He scratched between her ears.

  If Pavel was made to quit, he’d lose his home and his family. Bridger would lose them too. He’d lose Pavel and Elena and the pixies and Mindy and Marv and Grandma Alice. Would he lose Leo? Would his memories of their relationship be wiped away when he was pitched out of the side door? Would he be reset to back where he started in the fall—lonely and unsure?

  Throat tight, Bridger squeezed his eyes shut. As much as it would suck, he’d still have Astrid and his mom. Pavel would have no one. He couldn’t let that happen. He wouldn’t let it happen. But with experience comes wisdom, and he knew he’d need help.

  Chapter 13

  “Damn, Bridger, how do you get yourself into these situations?”

  “It’s a gift,” Bridger said, deadpan.

  “I’d go with curse.” Astrid took a sip of her pop. “You have any idea how you’re going to get out of this one?”

  “Literally, no.” Bridger slouched in his seat at the diner. They had agreed to have a quick dinner before heading to Leo’s game. As with all important events, it was being held at the community college’s field. Bridger poked halfheartedly at his fish tacos. “I wouldn’t be asking you if I had any plan other than making things look like an accident.”

  “I wouldn’t joke about that.”

  “Yeah.” Bridger tapped his foot. “I possibly wasn’t joking.”

  Astrid grimaced. “Do you think that’s Pavel’s plan?”

  “No. I hope not. I haven’t talked to him since I left on Monday, but at that point the plan was to give her a hint. Something tiny to satiate her curiosity and have her think that’s the extent of what we’re hiding.”

  “That’s a crappy plan.”

  “I’m aware.”

  “Is this like last time when Pavel’s plan was to let Leo experience his hero death and you tried to go around him and screwed everything up? Thus causing a massive folklore fight in the parking lot of the homecoming game?”

  Bridger slumped. “Yeah. Something like that.”

  Sighing, Astrid checked her phone. “Okay, well, we have a baseball game to watch and then we can dive into this further. Leo is going to win us a state championship.”

  “That’s not how the sport works. It’s a team effort. That’s what he says anyway. I think he could win it singlehandedly.”

  “You would.”

  “Of course, I would. He’s my boyfriend.”

  She quirked an eyebrow. “Is that the only thing he can do singlehandedly?”

  “Oh, my God, you’re the worst.” Bridger said with a soft chuckle. “I’m offended.”

  “But you’re laughing, so my job here is done.” She bowed theatrically, waved to her audience, and accepted pretend flowers.

  Bridger gave her a flat look but applauded.

  They paid for their meals. Bridger’s fish tacos were not sitting quite right in his stomach. On the drive to the game, Bridger kept an eye out for Summer’s
van, but he didn’t see it. Maybe she had sobered up and bought the bullshit Bridger had tried to sell her—probably not, but he could hope. Optimism wasn’t normally his thing, but Leo had rubbed off on him. Not literally. Seriously, not literally, not yet anyway, though not for lack of enthusiasm. Bridger shifted in his seat. Okay, he needed to stop thinking along that line.

  “Stop thinking about it,” Astrid said, pulling into the lot. “You have to focus on this game and on Leo. And you can’t do that with all those other thoughts running through your head.”

  Ha! If she only knew. “You’re right. Pavel told me to enjoy this stuff. So I’m going to take his advice.”

  “For once.”

  “You really are no help at all.”

  They approached the stadium and flashed their school ID cards to be let through the entrance without having to pay a fee. Bridger and Astrid took seats right behind the home team dugout on the third base line. Bridger waved at Leo’s parents, and Mr. Rivera returned the wave and held up his camera. Bridger and Astrid posed for the picture.

  “Mr. Rivera is the cutest dad.”

  “Yeah, he’s pretty awesome,” Bridger agreed.

  “How’s the whole situation with your dad?”

  Bridger groaned. “Let’s not talk about that either.”

  “Fair enough.”

  Bridger had never been a sports guy. He knew the basics of most of the popular ones but didn’t seek any out to watch on TV. He knew about the Michigan versus Michigan State rivalry and he guessed he’d be more into that once he went to college in the fall. He definitely knew that Michiganders had it ingrained in them to hate Ohio State, and thus how weird it was that Luke was going there for school. But, with the little knowledge that Bridger did have, he knew that Leo was amazing at baseball. Watching him play was absolutely mesmerizing, and once the game started Bridger had difficulty looking away when Leo was on the field.

  After the first inning, Luke joined them on the bleachers and sat close to Astrid. Zeke followed as well.

  “Hey, Zeke,” Bridger said with a nod. “Lacey not a baseball fan?”

  “We broke up,” Zeke said, voice flat.

  Bridger winced. The whole conversation he’d had with Taylor about breakup week echoed in his brain. “Oh, that sucks.”

  That was not a great response, if Astrid’s elbow to his ribs was a clue. He really shouldn’t be allowed to socialize. He was a disaster.

  “She wanted to explore other options.” Zeke shrugged, then narrowed his eyes, watching Bridger with intense consideration. “You’re not going to break up with Leo, are you?”

  “What?” his voice cracked. “No way. Not ever. Why? Did he say something? Is he going to break up with me?” The knee-jerk fear was real for an intense second, then Bridger remembered prom and rolling around on the blanket and holding each other while the Paulding Light bobbed in the ravine, and yeah, Leo wasn’t going anywhere for at least the summer, and after that, well, that was a problem for Future Bridger. Until then Present Bridger didn’t have to worry about relationship drama. He had bigger things on his mind.

  Huh. For once he wasn’t freaking out about Leo. That was a first. Score one for maturity and character development.

  “No. He hasn’t.”

  “Okay. That’s good. Because I don’t plan on breaking up with him at all. I’m in it to win it, or whatever people say.”

  “They don’t say that,” Luke said. “At all. Ever.”

  “Thanks, peanut gallery.”

  “They don’t say that either, Bridge,” Astrid said, her arm hooked through Luke’s. “Where do you get your vocabulary?”

  “Jeopardy. You know that.” At Luke’s raised eyebrows, Bridger scoffed. “Don’t even pretend you didn’t know how big of a fan I am. I had a picture of Alex Trebek in my locker all through middle school.”

  Astrid placed a hand over her heart. “Long may he reign.”

  “Long may he reign,” Bridger echoed solemnly.

  Luke’s gaze darted between them. “You two have too many inside jokes.”

  “Don’t worry, Luke.” Bridger waved his hand. “Stick around a while and you’ll catch on. Leo is able to decipher about seventy-five percent of what we say now.”

  Astrid blushed brilliant red. “Oh, look,” she said, focusing on the field. “Leo is on deck.”

  Bridger didn’t know what that meant but he turned his attention back to the game. Leo was next to bat and, though he didn’t hit a home run, he did smack the ball into the outfield in an impressive display of athleticism. He rounded second and headed to third as the other team tried to make a play on the runner at home. Leo slid into the base, kicking up red dust, and the crowd cheered as Leo and the other runner were both declared safe, giving Midden High the first run of the game.

  The game continued with the lead changing hands several times over the next few innings. Zeke bought popcorn and shared it among the four of them. Bridger drank a blue slushy while Astrid and Luke shared a red one. Going into the bottom of the ninth, Midden had a two-run lead with the visiting team at bat, and between Leo in the field and the closing pitcher, a freshman phenomenon, the other team went three up and three down.

  The crowd erupted. Midden High would play in the state championship for the first time in the school’s history. Bridger cheered and jumped up and down on the bleachers with the rest of the crowd. On the field, Leo and his team threw their gloves in the air and tackled the pitcher on the mound. Chaos reigned for a few minutes as everyone celebrated.

  With Astrid hanging onto his hoodie, Bridger maneuvered out of the bleachers. Luke and Zeke trailed behind them until they congregated on the edge of the parking lot waiting for the players. Milling around, they talked about graduation and school and carefully avoided the topic of Lacey as the minutes dragged on.

  “What is taking so long?” Astrid asked.

  “I thought I saw something happening on the field when we were leaving, but I didn’t see what.”

  “I’ll go check,” Bridger said.

  He walked to the enclosed dugout, where he found a group of players and parents talking with the coach. Bridger squeezed through the crowd until he found Leo standing with a bunch of other players. His baseball cap sat crooked over his sweaty hair, and he had dirt smeared across one cheek and a mixture of dirt and chalk from his ankle to his hip from sliding.

  Despite winning the most important game in school history, Leo was not smiling, in fact, his whole posture was subdued. No one was talking.

  “What’s going on?” Bridger asked, standing hesitantly on the outside of the clump of angry baseball players. “You guys won. Shouldn’t there be celebrating?”

  One of Leo’s teammates let loose a torrent of rapid Spanish that Bridger didn’t understand at all. Leo responded, measured and even, and whatever he said calmed the guy down, though he crossed his arms over his chest and forcefully spat a sunflower seed on the ground.

  “Okay. I understood nothing. What was that?”

  “Some assholes on the other team wouldn’t shake Leo’s hand after the game,” another teammate explained.

  Bridger’s stomach flipped, and it wasn’t the fish tacos. He went still. “Did they say why?”

  The team exchanged uncertain glances.

  The freshman phenom raised her hand. “Well, they also said something pretty mean about, well, they know Leo has a boyfriend. So—”

  “Guys,” Leo said, hands out, shrugging. “It’s okay. Coach is going to talk to their coach. If they want to be classless homophobic jerks let them. It was just three guys. The rest of their team was really nice.”

  “They’re angry they lost,” another guy chimed.

  “That doesn’t excuse it,” Bridger said sharply. The guy bowed his head, cowed, and scratched his cleat through the grass. “Sorry.” Bridger ran a hand through his hair. “That
wasn’t… Sorry. That wasn’t directed at you. I’m mad.”

  “It’s okay. You’re Leo’s boyfriend. We expect you to be protective and we’d be worried if you weren’t pissed off.”

  The side of Leo’s mouth lifted.

  “Well, good. And on that note, if you’re done with my boy­friend, I’d like to talk to him for a minute.”

  “Bye, guys. Good game.” Leo picked up his bag and slung it over his shoulder.

  Bridger held out his hand, and Leo took it. Guiding Leo through the group of concerned parents and past the gate, Bridger eased them to the back of the darkened concession stand. “That must have hurt,” Bridger said, once they were out of earshot. “I’m sorry.”

  Leo shrugged. He focused on the grass. “Honestly, it didn’t feel great.”

  “I’m so sorry.”

  Leo leaned against Bridger’s body. “I’ve been surrounded by such a supportive family and community that sometimes I forget there are still people who will hate me for being who I am.”

  Bridger folded Leo into a hug. His emotions were a scribble. That was the only way he could describe the anger and sorrow and shame and defeat that painted over each other inside him, looping and blurring into a mess of feelings hopelessly entangled.

  Leo rested his forehead on Bridger’s collarbone and sighed, loud and long; his shoulders were tight. Seeing Leo upset just made Bridger angrier. Leo was extraordinary. He was kind and gentle and confident and the pinnacle of goodness. And it pissed Bridger off that someone could make him feel less than, could shake the core of someone so grown and secure with who they were. He wanted to cry and punch things in equal measure and he clutched Leo tighter.

  “Fuck them,” Bridger said, cupping the back of Leo’s neck. His dark hair was damp with sweat, and granules of dirt ground beneath Bridger’s fingers. “Seriously. Screw those guys.” Bridger’s voice was tight. “You’re amazing. You’re the best player on the field. You’re the best person I know. They’re small and petty and yeah, they are angry they lost, and they want to make you feel the same. So, fuck them. And fuck anyone who agrees with them. You make everyone around you happier, and the entire school adores you, and your family loves you, and I can’t imagine a world without you, and yeah. Keep being you. Because you’re awesome.”