6. GaySomethin’
Gay or Somethin’
One evening the next weekend, Bridger pulled up to Dan’s property in his beat-up blue Chrysler Neon, a hand-me-down that his parents no longer used. Gus met him outside and the pair of boys snuck into Dan’s woodshop.
“My dad’s in town buying more supplies. Let’s be quick,” Gus reminded Bridger as he closed the door.
The windows were growing darker. Only small side lamps glowed inside. Gus led Bridger to his secret closet where all the items they needed to build another board were hidden. He grabbed the bucket of wood scraps and lifted it up.
“Ready for a board of your own?” he asked.
“You know it!” Bridger shot back.
Gus took the lead in all the carpentry steps as Bridger tried his best to assist without getting in the way.
Over their few short weeks of skateboarding practice, Gus had explained the board-making process to Bridger multiple times.
Bridger had thought he understood it, but it was a whole other beast to actually watch it happen before him.
He flinched when Gus flipped on the table saw, the screeching buzz so much louder than he’d expected.
But as Gus sent the wood scraps through the dangerous machine to thin out, level, and cut each piece evenly, Bridger’s alarm softened to contentment.
It was easy to adapt when Gus was so calm.
Bridger warmed to see this side of Gus. Confident Gus.
The boys arranged the wood scraps together on the main worktable. Gus had Bridger squeeze glue between each piece as he layered them together.
“Shoot, I forgot the clamp.” Hands occupied with the huge stack of sticky wood, Gus jutted his chin toward his supplies. “Go get it back there.”
Bridger dashed off to the closet and Gus heard loud clanking as Bridger shuffled all the contents around, probably making a mess.
“This long red thing?” Bridger called back. Another bang resonated.
“Yes!” Gus answered, still holding the wood pieces tight. “Also, can you be less… loud?”
Bridger returned with the clamp and a smile, and the boys switched positions, Bridger holding the wood strips while Gus secured the clamp and twisted it taut. Together they lifted the layered wood structure off the table and stashed away Bridger’s developing board in the same place Gus’s once sat.
“Okay. Now it needs a day to dry out,” Gus explained as he locked the closet door.
“Dude, that was wicked.” Bridger elbowed Gus lightly. “I’m pumped. When do we do the next steps?”
“Maybe… Wednesday night?” Gus suggested. “We just need my dad to be in town or asleep.”
“Got it,” Bridger confirmed. He paused to look around the empty space. “Does… your dad have any booze?”
“Uh…” Gus mumbled.
Gus took Bridger across the yard and into his family’s cabin for the first time.
Bridger peered around the peaceful but empty home.
The interior was full of homemade wooden furniture, had pine-planked walls, and featured a rugged stone fireplace.
Gus watched Bridger nodding to himself as they walked toward the kitchen.
The house must have explained a lot about Gus.
In the fridge, they found some leftovers from the dinner Dan had cooked last night and one lone beer in the back. Gus grabbed the bottle and offered it to Bridger.
“You have it,” Gus said.
Bridger cracked the lid and took a big glug.
“Good stuff.” Bridger sighed with contentment, reveling in the refreshment after all their woodworking. He held the drink out to Gus. “Here, taste it.”
Gus accepted the beer with slow hesitation.
“Oh! Going for it?” Bridger quirked a devilish eyebrow. “Didn’t know you had a wild side, Gus.”
“Me neither,” Gus admitted as he swigged from the bottle carefully. The taste was terrible. Why do people drink this?
“I like you wild,” Bridger replied. “Looks good on you.”
Gus smiled. Bridger then rapped the bottom of the beer bottle playfully, and it foamed over.
“Hey!” Gus jumped back in surprise.
Bridger laughed as beer spilled all over the floor.
~
Outside McNair Skatepark, Bridger and Gus met in the pebbly parking lot and strolled casually toward the concrete. Bridger saw his crew of skater friends, waved, and turned back to Gus.
“Let’s skate with them today,” Bridger suggested.
“Oh. No. I’m not good enough yet,” Gus hesitated.
“It’s fiiiine!” Bridger waved his hand. “We all used to be rookies. Come on.”
Gus shook his head. “I don’t think—”
“Max can be harsh. But that’s just ’cause he’s so fuckin’ good.”
Bridger kept walking. Gus followed, realizing he had no choice. Bridger eagerly stepped down into the bowl and approached his closest friends: Avery, Bennet, and Coop. Gus trailed behind. More of Bridger’s crew sat on the bowl’s other edge intently watching Max skate nearby.
“Aye, Bridge.” Avery stood up, noticing Bridger.
“What’s good!” Bridger responded with a dap.
Bennet bobbed his head at Bridger as he cracked some peanuts and downed a handful. Coop was lying against a vertical ramp, smoking a joint.
The small group of boys all turned as Max caught massive air off a spine, then landed a heelflip.
“What’s he going for?” Bridger asked.
“A tre flip into a backside 180,” Avery answered.
Bridger nodded. “Nice.” He bumped Gus with his arm. “Also, guys, this is Gus. He’s new in town.”
Avery, Bennet, and Coop all shifted Gus’s way. They smiled absentmindedly and offered him fists to bump. Gus completed the hand gestures with a weak fist but a growing smile, shocked to be included. He held his homemade board behind his back.
Max landed his complex skate line and the boys jolted back around to give him their attention. The whole group tapped their boards on the concrete in a cacophony of approval. Gus stayed silent while Bridger leaned in toward his friends.
“Yeah, I’m teaching Gus how to ride. Pretty soon, he’ll be as good as Max.” Bridger sent a sly, confident wink Gus’s way.
“I doubt that, Bridge,” Max interrupted, overhearing them as he skated toward their group.
All the younger boys parted like the Red Sea.
“Why’s he here?” Max barked toward Bridger, kicking up his board and ignoring Gus.
“This is Gus. He’s got this sweet board—”
“I’ve seen him around. He’s always watching us… like a creep,” Max snarled, finally turning to Gus.
Gus’s face contorted in stunned embarrassment as Max sized him up.
“Yeah,” Max went on. “Same broke ass who came into my shop.” He chuckled at Gus’s fright. “And now you follow me here? What…? You gay or somethin’?”
Those words hit Gus like bricks. Gay? His stomach flipped. His legs turned to jelly.
“Dude, no way!” Bridger shook the words off like a bad joke. “Gus is cool. Even Tara has the hots for him.”
Max’s eyebrows pulled into a V. This news had irked him. He turned on both boys viciously. “He can’t even skate!”
“He’s learning,” Bridger interjected, caught off guard. “And—”
“He’s just a poser.” Max stepped tauntingly toward Gus. “A shrimpy wannabe.”
The other skate boys erupted into a collective Ohhhhh! at the insult, bringing their fists to their mouths.
Gus didn’t know what to say. He looked down. Some of the boys’ snickers felt vicious, others were just chuckles of unease… but every mocking stare burned the same. The only person who didn’t laugh was Bridger.
Gus wanted to run away, but his feet were too weak to move.
Bridger’s chin lifted in slight defiance. “I’m teaching him.”
Max twisted back to Bridger forcefully. “Why?! You skate with me.”
“I’m—I’m just here to learn,” Gus struggled to interject. “Sorry if I did something back at—”
“Whatever,” Max interrupted. “Our crew is big enough.”
“I, uh…” Gus stuttered.
Bridger grabbed Gus’s board from behind his back.
“Look what he can build though!” Bridger exclaimed, lifting it high while Gus still held on to the other side of it. The pair ended up displaying the board between them like a trophy.
A cruel grin spread across Max’s face. “What dumpster was that rotting in?” he jeered, turning to the other skaters to encourage their derision as well.
However, as all the young skaters darted in closer to view the board, they lit up, eyes tracing the board’s painted mountain design and thicker sturdiness.
They all reached out to touch it. Bridger looked to Gus, who gave a small shrug, and let the board leave his hands to sail among the crew’s hands.
“Dude! Where did you buy this?” Bennet marveled at Gus.
“He made it himself,” Bridger bragged. “I’m actually hoping to—”
“Damn! How do I get one?” Avery jumped in.
“Gnarly, dude!” Coop added.
Max shifted sideways as the rest of the crew pushed past him to feel the board’s paintwork. Even the other skaters and local scooter kids nearby glanced their way.
“Guys! Shut it,” Max hissed, yanking on the board. “We can’t have our crew riding shitty decks.”
The boys all let go of Gus’s board as Max pulled it away.
“Get your gear from my dad’s shop or you’re out,” Max bellowed. “No one’s gonna take you seriously riding this garbage.”
The group all went quiet. The mood shifted. No one wanted to get kicked out of Max’s skate crew.
Max breathed back in, glad he’d maintained order.
Bridger moved to grab the board back, but Max jerked it out of reach.
“C’mon, Max.” Bridger slung his head back in annoyance. “He’s getting better.”
“Okay. Fine.” Max tossed the board to the ground in front of Gus’s feet. “Show us a trick.”
Gus’s heart pounded in his chest. He knew he could not land any tricks. Not like this.
Bridger turned to Gus and whispered, “You don’t have to.”
Gus, petrified, didn’t think he could walk, let alone skate.
“Well?” Max taunted, crossing his arms. “Everyone’s waiting.”
Gus peered around. Indeed, every eye was glued on him. He swallowed hard, his palms leaking sweat, and stepped onto his board.
Max glanced at a nearby skater and whispered something that made the guy snicker.
Gus pushed off, gliding smoothly across the pavement. For a brief moment, he felt steady, but as he crouched to attempt an ollie, his confidence crumbled. The board shot out from under him, and he landed smack on his ass.