The Bridge (12 page)

Bryce looked at the bottom of the plate, then scrutinized the other plates. He wrapped them as a stack, and when he turned to the box, Everett went to the kitchen and took a pinch of salt.

Strip his aura.

Bryce’s body went rigid. His aura faded, and all that was left was a confused human boy. He shook his head before returning to the box.

Everett leaned on the counter, dazed more than he should have been. It was a simple spell cast on a single human boy.

Bryce put the plate down, and when he saw Everett propping himself against the counter, hurried to his side. His hands hovered in front of Everett, unsure where to land. “You all right?”

“I’m sleepy.”

“Already? We haven’t done much packing.”

Smiling was like dragging Everett’s lips through hardened mush. “Do you want to eat lunch? I have frozen food we can heat in the microwave.”

“I ate before I came. Did you? Or did you only have a cup of coffee?”

“I had breakfast and coffee.” He shouldn’t have had the coffee. He crashed hard with too much caffeine. “I usually don’t have visitors, so my schedule got a bit skewed.”

Bryce smiled, but his eyes were dark with concern, their corners smooth with no laugh lines. “You seem like someone who’d have a lot of book buddies over.”

“I don’t have buddies.” Everett bit his tongue and, upon seeing Bryce’s pitiful frown, went to unfreeze a frozen meal.

Bryce leaned on the opposite side of the counter. “You don’t have buddies? None?”

“I have a few. My grandfather, a schoolmate, you.”

“That’s it?”

Everett didn’t have an issue with his tiny circle of friends. He was a witch, and witches kept their distance from nonwitches, just as humans kept their distance from humans of other classes, races, religions, and other distinct groups.

Aside from Bryce and his former schoolmate, Sunny, there was nobody in his life who wasn’t a blood relative or a nonwitch.

“I don’t mind it. I prefer small, tight groups over large, loose ones.”

“But you don’t have a group. You have separate friends who don’t even know each other. And your grandfather is a family member. He doesn’t count as a friend.”

“I hate this extrovert ideal.” Everett ripped into the box of a frozen macaroni and cheese tray.

“Even introverts need friends.”

“I have friends. I just don’t have as many as others. And I do have acquaintances. It’s not like I have no one when you, my schoolmate, and my grandfather are taken away.” Everett slit the plastic covering with the provided plastic fork.

“I’m sorry. Sorry. I just don’t see the appeal in a small group of friends. I mean a
tiny
group of friends. You should have more close buddies. I’ll introduce you to mine at Greenford. They’ll like you. You might like them. They’re kind of obnoxious, but don’t you introverts like to observe people and take notes on them?”

“I’m not a freak.” Everett set the microwave for two minutes.

“I never said you were.” Bryce fingered the divot in the counter that Everett had made when he attempted to make a bridge for a dead ant. The concentration of energy had melted a point into the counter. “What’s the name of your school friend?”

“Sunny Jenkin.” She wasn’t a true friend. They just ate lunch together to avoid looking like loners.

Bryce looked up, eyes round with recognition.

“You know her?”

Bryce nodded and didn’t seem happy about the coincidence. “Her dad is friends with my dad.”

“Is that bad?”

“I don’t know. Sunny’s real shady. No offense.”

Bryce had a connection to witchcraft through his father. His father was friends with Mr. Jenkin, who was the father of Everett’s friend.

“Coincidence?” Everett said.

“It might be. Are you a witch?”

Everett stopped breathing midbreath.

He cast an incomplete spell, one that didn’t have a focused result. There was nothing to expect, but paranormal residue flickered on Bryce’s right hand.

“When you say witch, what do you mean?”

Bryce’s gaze probed him, poking everywhere his eyes went, daring a reaction. “A literal witch. You do rituals and cast spells.”

Strip his aura.

Bryce shook his head like he had a tick. He ran a hand through his hair and frowned, biting his lip.

Again, all that remained was a human boy.

Bryce cocked his head, eyebrows squishing together. “Everett?”

Strip all of it. Break any barriers.

Everett’s energy depleted quicker than a blink. He disregarded the double film of his vision and strained to think about anything other than the blankness of his mind. The world was bright, faint like someone had taken an eraser to all the colors and outlines. And it was cold—so cold. He blinked, and it took an age to open his eyes and see the kitchen floor, a socked foot stepping toward him.

“Hey! Everett!”

Hands grabbed his arm, squeezing painfully tight, but he slipped through, his legs nonexistent, and he fell into a white world.

He opened his eyes, and Bryce swam into view through the watery film over his vision. “Bryce?”

“Right here. I’m right here.” Bryce cupped Everett’s cheek. His hand was a warm comfort.

Everett closed his eyes and breathed, wishing he could suck in the warmth through his mouth and hold it in his stomach, where it would warm him from the chill he was still swimming in.

“Hey, right here. Look at me. Don’t go out again.”

Bryce wasn’t human—couldn’t be—but his touch was warm, callused, fleshy.

He put his hand over Bryce’s, lining their fingers. He felt the thick knuckle scabs, the folded skin over each finger joint, and the dip of skin into nail.

“I’m okay,” Everett said. “I’m okay.”

He sat against the counter, Bryce sitting next to him with too much concern in his eyes. Everett didn’t have the strength to stay upright without the counter against his back.

“Do you have a condition?”

Nobody had ever asked him about health issues, and he had never passed out as frequently as he had in the past two weeks. He had always been good at keeping himself awake and on his feet.

“Dehydration and sleep deprivation, mostly.” Everett sucked his breaths in, drawing them over several seconds and expelling them with an extra second or two. He had been taught to breathe like this in case he ever felt light-headed without anyone nearby, assuming he would ever have a reason to cast heavy spells without supervision.

“Have you seen a doctor?”

Everett tilted his head in a slight nod. “I’m fine.”

When Everett was well enough to stand, Bryce guided him to the living room couch and attended him until he convinced Bryce he was well enough to care for himself.

SOMETHING HOLLOW
smacked against Everett’s window.

He snapped out of his nap with a gasp.

He had dreamed of a black mist that surrounded his head in a halo of nothingness. There was something beyond the mist, but the persistent tapping on his window distracted him from the fading memory of the dream.

A dull strip of sunlight peeked from the curtain. The sun was setting, and Everett had been asleep for three hours.

He lifted a curtain flap, and Buzz angrily waved two tentacles. Everett had the sense Buzz had been outside for a substantial amount of time.

Buzz squeezed in the tiny gap before Everett opened the window all the way.

“Thanks for abandoning me,” Everett said.

Buzz gave him a hard, disapproving look with his eyelid half-shut over his eye.

Bryce had been iffy about leaving Everett alone, but was convinced to leave before Everett’s grandfather came home. He had made Everett promise to keep drinking water, stay away from sharp objects, and keep his phone within reach. Every ten minutes for the first hour after Bryce left, Everett had to send a text confirming his awareness. After the first hour, Bryce had left Everett alone to take a nap.

Buzz perched on top of Everett’s desk, his single eye hidden in his cap.

“His father says witches are dangerous, and he doesn’t let Bryce read witchtales. He told Bryce to stay away from anyone who believes in them, but I can’t tell if it’s because the danger is real or if it’s simple antiwitch beliefs.”

Buzz sat on the desk like a paperweight, his tentacles tucked in his cap.

“His father is friends with Mr. Jenkin, who is the father of my friend.” Everett closed the window and drew the curtains shut. The curtain hooks scraped the rod with an ugly sound.

“Bryce isn’t human. Is that why you screamed? Because you knew?” Everett frowned at the silent jellyfish. “Are you listening?”

Two slits appeared on Buzz’s cap. The lips quivered, slimy with something akin to mucus.

“Buzz, what are you doing?” Everett approached Buzz, tiptoeing.

The slits flared open, baring gooey insides.

A stench burned Everett’s nostrils.

He swatted the air in front of his nose.

The slits fluttered and goop spilled out.

Everett backed up until his thighs hit his mattress.

The goop, which resembled mushy clumps of Buzz’s translucent flesh, piled on the desk. The two strips of goop rolled into globes the same size as Buzz.

The globes rolled to the edges of the desk where they flattened into hemispheres. Tentacles popped out of the flat bottoms and the jellyfish clones took to the air.

Buzz produced more clones until he had a squad of eight. They were the same jellyfish that had pulled Everett out of his seat in the dojang and into the back lot.

It was easy to tell Buzz from the others because his color was darker, and his presence received the most attention, like he was the king and the other jellyfish were minions.

Everett leaned back as the jellyfish approached him. “Buzz? Can you explain this?”

The jellyfish swam around Everett’s head in a merry-go-round of bobbing bodies. The circle broke into a line with Buzz in the lead. The line went out the door. Everett followed them to the front door.

“You want me to follow you outside? But I’m not dressed.”

Buzz vibrated and the rest copied him.

“Can I change?”

Nine jellyfish eyes glared at Everett.

Everett grabbed his messenger bag and keys.

THE JELLYFISH
line led him to the dojang
.
He parked along the sidewalk and stayed in his car. The jellyfish stayed with him, sitting on the dashboard like toys.

The blinds were open. Through the strips, Everett saw Bryce and Melinda run through choreographed technique forms. They were focused on their work and didn’t notice Everett pull in.

Buzz jabbed a tentacle at the dojang. After a second’s delay, the jellyfish clones pointed in the same direction.

It didn’t take Everett long to realize the jellyfish clones were mindless bodies that Buzz commanded.

“The dojang?” Everett said.

Buzz and the clones made Xs with their tentacles.

“Bryce?”

The jellyfish puffed and deflated their caps.

“What about him?”

Buzz sat on the side pocket of Everett’s messenger bag.

Everett took his salt out. “What kind of spell? Aura strip?”

The clones puffed their caps.

“I don’t know if I’ll have the energy.” But he did it. Something about the clones’ presence told him he didn’t have to worry.

He focused on Bryce, who was doing a series of knife-hand attacks as he stood in a firm stance, his front leg bent and his back leg straight.

Strip the aura.

Nothing happened that called for attention.

Buzz deflated and the air that rushed out his body sounded like a sigh.

The clones circled Everett’s head. A line of neon pink zapped between their bodies, encasing his head in a fence of glowing energy.

“Is this supposed to help?”

Buzz tapped the salt bag.

Everett cast the spell again.

This time, Bryce’s skin faded to gray, and Everett felt no loss of energy; the clones were replacing the energy he used.

The blinds obstructed Everett’s view, but he could see dark, scaly flesh and—

His thoughts shattered like glass.

His vision flashed blue, then white, as if the colors had hit him in the face.

Pain blossomed in his mind and expanded to trap his head in a cage.

His thoughts combusted.

Stop. Stop. Stop.

He clutched his head and bowed his forehead to the steering wheel. The jellyfish attached to his head and neck and thrummed a musical vibration that chased the pain away. The cage loosened, and he imagined dipping his head out of it. The pain stopped and cold comfort washed over him. He slouched against his seat and touched his forehead. Sweat and goop stuck to his fingers.

Buzz and the jellyfish lined up on the dashboard. They were still as Everett scraped the transparent goop off his forehead. Some of it stuck his hair to his face.

It was like glue, like ectoplasm.

Buzz tapped the dashboard until Everett looked. Buzz pointed at the passenger window.

Melinda stood on the sidewalk, lips pursed and eyebrows pinched together. She knocked on the window.

Everett rolled down the window. “Hi.” He waved and the ectoplasm dripped down his fingers and made webs between his fingers.

There wasn’t a standard way to greet someone when your hands and face were covered with paranormal fluids, because witches weren’t supposed to produce ectoplasm. Ectoplasm was a myth.

“Do your drugs elsewhere. We don’t tolerate loitering,” Melinda snapped, eyeing the ectoplasm with disgust.

“I’m not—It’s supposed to be water. I grabbed the wrong bottle.”

Buzz and the jellyfish bounced their caps in laughter.

Melinda nodded. “Right…. What did you add to make it clump like that?”

“I don’t know any drug that does this.” Everett squeezed the goop off his fingers. “Do you?”

Her eyes burned through him like lasers. “Do you think I know?”

“Me neither, so you have to believe me when I say I’m not doing drugs. I thought I was getting a sip of water.”