Bradley
I faked my way through breakfast. I did my best impression of Bradley on a normal day. Of course, my parents asked about the dance, and I even plastered on a smile and told them a lot of the good things that had happened. About Vanya’s idea, and my friends, and laughing. It reminded me of the last few years of school when my parents would ask about my day, and I had told them the littlest shred of something good that had happened and then pretended like the terrible didn’t exist. I wore a lot of fake smiles then too.
But after my parents went to work, I climbed back into bed. We obviously weren’t having team practice before school—there was no team anymore. And I wouldn’t go if there was.
I slept through the start of class. When I woke I just lay there, not really focusing on anything.
I didn’t get on my phone or Netflix. Or my VR. And I didn’t leave my room.
I just tried not to think. Tried not to relive everything. Or imagine the next bunch of whispers I’d hear in the hallway or in class or the commons.
I didn’t care how many periods I missed.
Then someone knocked on my door.
Not the apartment door, but my bedroom door. Which to be honest, kind of freaked me out.
“Hey, buddy, can I come in?”
Dad.
I didn’t say anything. I just kept staring at the wall.
“Say yes,” he said, “because I’m coming in and I’d rather do it with your permission than not.”
I exhaled long and loud. “Yes,” I said.
He stepped in. He was still wearing his mask and his work apron.
“Dad, you can’t be here,” I said. “You don’t have enough workers for everything.” He had been working a ton of hours lately. Several of his employees had gotten sick, or had people in their family that had gotten sick, and there weren’t enough people to cover for them. So my dad worked for them.
He nodded. “True, but your mom works twenty minutes further away, and we’ve been getting texts that our son hasn’t logged on to school.”
I should have guessed that would happen.
“You could just text,” I said.
“Oh, I did,” he said, and reached over and grabbed my phone. “I texted about twenty times.” He moved his finger across my phone’s screen, but nothing happened. “But it looks like this isn’t on.”
Right. I had turned it off last night after everything happened.
He turned on my phone and sat down while it loaded. I guess he wanted to make sure he could still get in touch later on. “What’s going on?” he asked.
“Dad, you’re under lots of pressure. You’ve got to get back to work,” I said.
He nodded. “And apparently you’re under a lot of pressure too. So this is my most important work right now.” He just sat there, not moving. I wanted him to leave so bad, but then I also didn’t want him to move. I was half and half, an emotional minotaur again.
We sat there in silence for a while.
And then I told him how everything had gone terribly wrong.
“I’m not sure I understand all this,” he said. “How the avatars work and everything.” I wasn’t surprised by that. “But I understand that your situation stinks. And I’m sorry.” He paused. “And,” he said, “I’m also really proud of you.”
“What?” I said.
“I’m proud of you for trying. Trying to dance. Trying to make friends. Trying out the games. Trying to stand up for what you think is right. That’s hard.”
It was a nice idea, but I shook my head. “I’m not doing that again,” I said.
“You have to,” he said. “You have to show up and try. Sometimes it will work, and sometimes it won’t—but that’s how you really live.” He shifted a little. “You have a lot to offer, Bradley. But it’s only when you try that you’ll know how much.”
Maybe he was right, maybe he was wrong, but I didn’t have the energy to argue with him. “Thanks,” I said, hoping that would stop the you-can-do-it lecture.
“And I know something else,” Dad said. “You’ve got some good friends.”
He looked down at my phone. He seemed to scan it for a while. “Good friends,” he repeated. “It looks like you’ve missed about eighty-seven messages.”
“Eighty-seven?”
“Yeah,” my dad said. “Now, I’m sure twenty or thirty of them are from me and your mom, but something tells me some other people are trying to reach you.”
I didn’t know what to say.
“Looks to me like people appreciate how hard you’re trying. Better not quit now.” He set my phone on my desk. “You don’t have to go to school today,” he said, “but you may want to text your friends back.”
Again, another quote I don’t think anyone else has ever heard from their dad.