The Bridge (15 page)

The bathroom door opened, and Buzz and Bryce exited.

Buzz’s eye was already exposed, and his eyelid was pulled back all the way into his cap. His pupils were blown and his tentacles quivered with pink sparks.

“I feel like there’s a spider stalking me. Something landed on my head in the bathroom.” Bryce scrunched his mouth and patted down his ruffled hair. It appeared he had done an extreme comb-through with his fingers.

Everett glared at Buzz.
Punish him with a poke.

Buzz jerked to the side, the side of his cap punctured with a divot as wide as Everett’s fingertip. He opened the lips of his cap wide and closed down, puffing his cap with air. The divot filled in with a pop.

A cloud of exhaustion passed over Everett’s thoughts. The mat was inviting. He imagined taking a nap and sleeping all the exhaustion off.

“No, no, no. Don’t do that.” Bryce stepped in and grabbed Everett’s arms, bumping their knees together.

“Do I look like I’m going to faint?” Everett slurred.

“What are you doing that keeps putting you out?”

“It’s a health thing. I’m just health challenged.” Everett pulled Bryce’s hands off but didn’t let go. He slid his hands to Bryce’s wrists and squeezed.

Strip his aura. All of it.

A voice shot through his head.
“Don’t!”

Bryce blinked and his eyes flashed a luminescent yellow. Gray surfaced from under his skin, the flesh morphing into leather or scales, and Everett couldn’t look away. He was mesmerized and couldn’t end the spell. The edges of his vision whitened and his breaths shortened.

“Everett? Everett, what’s wrong? Everett!”

Bryce was gone. The dojang was gone.

The white stayed.

EVERETT KICKED
a leg out and tried to dislodge the white blanket over his head.

“I’m alive.” His voice sounded like it came from somebody else’s mouth.

A wet cloth rubbed his face and neck. It dipped under the collar of his shirt, and he slapped the hand that held it.

He rolled onto his side. Pain slid through his head toward the ground. He clenched his jaw and curled into a ball, whispering words of a language he didn’t know.

His hearing was muffled, and the voice whispering in his ear was too soft to pick up.

He opened his eyes and got an eyeful of Buzz’s huge eye. The jellyfish was sitting in front of his face, watching with a trustful gaze.

Someone stroked Everett’s back, and Buzz didn’t like it. His cap prickled with spikes.

“Bryce?” Everett rolled onto his back and bumped into Bryce’s knees.

Bryce was kneeling behind Everett, biting his lip so hard Everett waited for blood to drip. Behind Bryce stood Everett’s grandfather, his facial wrinkles creased deep with stress and concern and disappointment and other negativities that filled Everett with guilt.

“How long was I out?”

“I don’t know. You fell asleep,” Bryce said. His voice was hoarse, as though he had been screaming at the top of his lungs. “I called your gramps, and he got here a few minutes before you woke up.”

It was a twenty-minute drive from the shop to the dojang. If Everett’s grandfather hadn’t sped, Everett had been asleep for over twenty minutes.

His grandfather’s face was taut. His steady scrutiny of Everett’s sweaty body warned of an upcoming lengthy discussion.

Everett would have to lie for the third, fourth, fifth—he had already lost count of the lies he’d told. They sat in his stomach like tiny rocks, building up weight until his stomach eventually tore. There had to be a limit to how much he disappointed his grandfather. He couldn’t hold his secrets in forever, and he couldn’t always keep his grandfather in the dark.

“Here. Drink this.” Bryce gave Everett a water bottle. “It’s not cold, but it should help your headache—or whatever.”

Bryce shared a gaze with Everett’s grandfather and then bowed his head, looking at Everett’s leg. He looked like a kicked puppy.

Everett tried to gauge what had transpired between the two while he was asleep. His grandfather’s open body posture labeled him as the aggressor; Bryce’s closed body posture labeled him as the defender.

He didn’t sense tension, but it could have already snapped at the climax of an argument.

“I’m feeling much better. You can go home, Grandpa. I’m going to continue the lesson,” Everett said.

“I don’t think that’s a good idea,” Bryce said. He peeked at Everett’s grandfather.

Everett wiped his lips of water. “I think otherwise. If I don’t practice, how will I overcome my weakness?”

“You can’t overcome weakness by carelessly diving in,” his grandfather said.

“I’m already in deep. There is no point in climbing out and treading my way back in.”

“Regardless, you should still rest. Come back tomorrow—or after tomorrow.”

“Grandpa, please. I can stand just fine.” Everett demonstrated.

Bryce rose with him, arms prepared to catch him if he fell.

Buzz floated in front of Everett’s grandfather’s face and gave a thumbs-up with all his tentacles.

Everett’s grandfather wearily sighed and scratched the bags under his tired eyes. “Maybe I’m too worrisome. Go ahead, but don’t wear yourself out.”

Bryce’s eyes bugged open. “But you passed out. You can’t—”

“If he says he’s fine, he’s fine,” his grandfather said, momentarily glancing at Buzz.

“I’ll try to stay on my feet,” Everett said.

“Good boy. I’ll see you at home.”

Everett’s grandfather looked incredibly frail as he walked through the doors. His heels scuffed the floor and his shoulders hunched forward. He walked like that at home when he was on his way to bed after using the bathroom or after a late drink of water.

“Did you two talk when I was unconscious?” Everett asked Bryce.

“I don’t think your grandpa likes me very much.” Bryce chuckled sadly.

“What did he say?”

“I told him what happened, and he didn’t like that I indirectly made you pass out. I should’ve stopped as soon as you paled.”

Bryce’s eyes were glossy. The thin layer of moisture made his eyes look like a pool reflecting a night sky and a sheet of stars. And his skin was smooth under the sheen of sweat.

Everett swallowed drily.

“Why do
you faint? It’s very random. You look perfectly fine, and then one second later you’re pale and your eyes dilate.” Bryce studied Everett’s body. “It’s like you don’t have a health issue at all. Someone just pushes a button and you pass out. There’s no correlation, except when you say you’re dehydrated or sleep deprived, which I’m calling bullshit on. That’s not why you faint, is it?”

Make me pale
.

Ironically, the spell made Everett light-headed as well. He swayed into Bryce’s waiting arms and cushioned his head against Bryce’s chest.

Bryce smelled like soap and deodorant with an underlying tang of sweat. Everett nuzzled his nose into Bryce’s chest before he grasped how awkward that was.

“Can I sit this lesson out?”

“I swear that was conveniently timed, but it looked so real. Are you an actor?” His nose brushed against Everett’s scalp. “Are you holding out on me?”

“I’m dizzy. Can I rest?”

Buzz rolled his eye and dipped below Everett’s eyesight. A second later, Bryce’s eyes bugged open and he held Everett at a distance.

“What?” Everett said.

Bryce blinked hard. “Why’d you do that?”

“Why’d I do what?”

“
That!
” Bryce shoved Everett away.

Everett’s heel dragged against the mat. He couldn’t get his toes on the ground, and he landed hard on his bottom.

“What’d I do?” Everett demanded.

“Don’t act like you don’t know! You’re totally an actor!” Bryce tugged his shirt over his sweatpants, his face and neck beet red.

“I don’t know what I—”

Buzz wiggled his tentacles in front of Bryce’s crotch.

Everett desperately sought out an explanation. No excuses came to mind. “I’m sorry. I don’t know why I did that. I really don’t know. I should go home and sleep.”

Everett kept his eyes anywhere but on Bryce. His blood was boiling. Hot spots sparked along his fingers.

Everett pushed the door open with more force than was necessary, and it bounced shut before Buzz could get out.

He opened the door and stared at the metal strip of the doorframe. “Again, I’m sorry.”

He got no response and looked up, but Bryce wasn’t on the floor. A light glowed under the crack of the restroom door.

“I can’t believe you,” Everett told Buzz.

Buzz hummed happily.

“Why’d you do that? Now he thinks I’m a pervert.” Everett slammed his car door shut and didn’t let Buzz in.

Buzz made a puppy eye and quivered a short strip of his rim.

Everett rolled his window down an inch and spat, “Fly home.”

He made a U-turn at the stop sign, which was probably illegal, but there weren’t many cars out so he didn’t care.

Buzz remained floating in front of the dojang, tracking Everett with his watery eye.

Everett drove past one street corner and a backpack-sized Buzz dropped onto the car, tentacles stretched across the hood.

He swerved into the other lane and an oncoming car blasted its horn.

Everett jerked the car to the right.

Buzz rolled off the hood and swelled to the size of a boulder. He pushed Everett to the left, keeping the car from jumping the curb.

The other car continued on. Everett pulled off the road, landing halfway on the sidewalk.

His heartbeat was everywhere—in his head, arms, legs. He clamped his hands over his ears and listened to the beat in his head. Then he tried to hit the window button but his shaking made him miss. He slapped his palm on the armrest and slid his finger to the button and clawed it in.

Buzz burrowed against his chest, cap fluttering with his heartbeat.

“Don’t ever do that again. Don’t touch Bryce. Don’t touch the car. Not unless I give you permission. Got it?”

Buzz vibrated.

“Good. Good boy.” Everett rubbed the jellyfish’s cap.

BRYCE DIDN’T
call or text Everett after the crotch incident. Everett ignored Buzz for the rest of Wednesday, but the jellyfish played the perfect role of a guilty pet and moped around the shop. His eye was teary and his tentacles dragged on the floor. Sometimes he got kicked around by customers’ feet, and he let the momentum bounce him off shelves and other feet. At the end of the day he slammed against the counter and lay on the ground as if he were dead.

On Thursday morning Everett gave Buzz a list of strict rules to abide by. The most important rule stated that before touching anything that could grab attention, Buzz had to ask for permission. The only exception was if Buzz sensed any danger. The least important rule stated that Buzz couldn’t go in the bathroom when Everett was using it—unless he got permission.

Buzz valued Everett’s rules and dedicated an honorable effort to obey them, sometimes saluting Everett after demonstrating compliance. On Friday, when Everett broke into Omar’s house, Buzz tagged behind and didn’t do anything unless given permission.

The front door had an alarm spell, so Everett disabled it and spent five minutes focusing on the doorknob, making it unlock. It hurt more than it exhausted him. When the lock clicked, he wrung his hands out and opened the door wide enough for Buzz to slip in.

Buzz scoped the house for traps. Everett studied the interior of the house he could see from the porch. The front door opened into a minimalist living room. Someone with an ego as large as Omar’s should have had a house filled with exuberant décor, but instead he saw a couch facing a wall-mounted TV, a coffee table, two lamps, and a bookcase. There were no paintings, no plants, and no personality.

Buzz signaled that the house was clear. Everett pulled a plastic baggie out of his pocket and quickly donned the contents: disposable covers on his shoes, a hairnet over his head, and latex gloves on his hands. He twiddled his fingers to keep them from wandering toward furniture.

In one of the fingertips of the gloves was a small pile of salt. The grains rode under his nail, but it made for convenient spell casting. The living room lacked paranormal residue. The kitchen was the same. The dining room was another story.

“This is where the brunt of the investigation must be,” Everett said.

Buzz floated around the room, dipping behind the furniture that was pushed to the walls. At the center of the room, the wood was blackened in the shape of a circle. The center of the circle suffered the most damage. The wood paneling there was splintered and reached toward the ceiling with stick fingers.

The paranormal residue was heavy. A single strand curled around the room with the thickness of Everett’s wrist. It was the darkest shade of black. The residue disappeared at the center of the room.

“I’ve never seen anything like this before,” Everett said. “This is one strong creature.”

The residue was heavy, and assuming the creature had appeared the day Omar had disappeared, the residue had been here for six days.

“There was a summoning and it failed, or the creature returned to its dimension.”

Everett searched for residue throughout the house and found none. He went through Omar’s bedroom closet and nightstands, but except for clothes, there was nothing. No wallet, no receipts, no car keys—nothing.

The bed had no human residue and the blankets were stale. The wastebasket in the bathroom was empty. The razor, shampoo and conditioner bottles, and towels were dry. The bathroom smelled of mildew. The laundry room was unused and the guest room was like a dorm room waiting for a student to fill it with personality.

“Is there anything I should look at?” Everett asked Buzz.

Buzz went to the dining room and did a quick float around the room’s perimeter.

“What am I looking for?”

Buzz mimed a witch casting spells with flamboyant movements of his tentacles.

“What should I cast?”

Buzz didn’t know, so Everett exposed the residue again and studied its beginning and end. The tail was faded enough for Everett to peer through it. He cast a spell to highlight the fading of the residue, but the rate at which it faded was too slow to see.