The Bridge (5 page)

“I’m fine.” Did he say it verbally or mentally? Everything—his thoughts, his surroundings—echoed.

He didn’t know how long he was out of it until his hearing faded in. He opened his eyes and saw Bryce kneeling in front of him. Behind him, Ann was on a familiar phone—Everett’s phone. Had she gone through his bag? Had she seen the salt baggie?

The class was paused, and the students watched Everett from the floor. He had everyone’s attention. The embarrassment never ended whenever Bryce was present.

“Can you hear me?” Bryce’s voice was washed out, but Everett could hear every word as they echoed in his head.

“Yeah.”

“Did you hit your head? Are you hurt anywhere?”

“No.”

“What’s your name?”

“Everett.”

“Your full name?”

His lips crawled through the cold stone of his face into a shy smile. “Everett Hallman. I’m fine. Really.”

He tried to sit up, but Bryce gently pushed him down. His arm turned to goop under Bryce’s hot touch.

“Who’s she calling?” Everett looked at Ann who was speaking in a lowered voice as she walked to the back room, face turned away from the students for privacy.

“Your grandfather.”

He sighed. “Now he definitely won’t let me take classes. I wasn’t even doing anything.”

“You looked pale yesterday too. And the day before that. I know you’re white, but your paleness doesn’t look healthy.”

Everett didn’t think there was anything off with his color. In the wrong light, his fairness looked sickly, so it wasn’t surprising that Bryce thought he looked sick.

“I’m supposed to be that pale. It’s my natural color.” He sat up, and this time Bryce let him.

His head swam a bit, but he could manage the slight tilt of his perceived center of balance. He fixed his hair and T-shirt, conscious of Bryce’s steady gaze.

“I’m sorry for disrupting your class,” Everett said.

“It’s fine. It would have been better if you disrupted the black-belt class. They’re trained to work through any in-class emergencies, so you wouldn’t have all these eyes on you.” Bryce hiked a thumb over his shoulder at their small audience.

Ann tossed a bottle of water at Bryce, the phone disconnected and held at her side. “Your grandfather gave me permission to drive you home. Bryce, can you take over the class until I get back?”

“I can drive him home,” Bryce said.

Ann arched a thick brow and handed the phone back to Everett. Bryce opened the bottle for Everett and guided it to his lips. Everett blushed, knowing the class was watching.

“I’m a safe driver. You can trust me,” Bryce said.

Ann sighed and shook her head, but she said, “Promise you will drive within five miles of the limit.”

“Yes, sir.”

“You won’t speed through any yellow lights.”

“Yes, sir.”

Ann glanced at Everett, then at Bryce, her gaze heavy. “And you won’t take any detours.”

Bryce frowned, but his lips hinted of a smile he was working to cover. “That was only one time.”

Outside in the parking lot behind the dojang, Everett thanked Bryce and again apologized for the hassle. Bryce offered himself as a crutch by putting an arm around Everett’s waist and holding him close. Their hips bumped a little when their steps synchronized. Each impact sent a jolt of sappy warmth through Everett’s veins.

“Don’t worry about it. I like helping people. It’s one of my favorite hobbies.” Bryce unlocked the doors of a deep blue sedan. “Her name is Pearl.”

“You named your car?”

“Everyone does. Don’t you have a car?” Bryce held the door open for Everett.

“Yeah, but it’s really old. Not as nice as yours.”

Bryce shut the door after Everett and stored his messenger bag in the backseat.

“What’s the name?” Bryce asked after he dropped into his seat and started the car.

“I didn’t name it.”

Bryce smiled tightly. “Is it a boy or girl?”

“Cars don’t have genders.” Everett looked out the window as Bryce pulled out of the parking space. Bryce’s smile was doing incredible and frightening things to his heart.

“That’s why you pick one for them.”

Everett shook his head. “My car doesn’t identify with any gender.”

“Then it’s nonbinary. What do you want to name him/her/it/something else?”

“I don’t want to name it.” Everett laughed. “That’s strange.”

“Only if you say it’s strange. By the way, I don’t know where you live. Mind telling me?”

“It’s the corner house in front of Stanley Hugh Park.”

Bryce pulled onto the street, his voice strange as he asked, “The one in front of the woods?”

Everett nodded.

“What’s it like living there?”

“It’s not bad.”

“I heard that someone died there a few years ago. In the woods.”

“I’ve never heard of that.” But if it were true, it would be no surprise for a woodland populated with paranormal creatures of many kinds.

The woods stretched beyond the Ashville public library and ran alongside a scenic route, where it widened and spilled up massive hills devoid of human residents. The scenic route had been closed years ago when the town put roadblocks at its entrance. The town claimed the route was unsafe for travel due to fallen trees, crumbling roadways, and other understandable and mundane reasons.

Bryce asked, “Have you ever walked in there?”

“Many times. I go when the sun is still up. I’ve gone in there a few times after dusk, but I’m not keen on returning there after hours. It’s… heart-stopping.” Everett’s skin prickled. He snapped his gaze at Bryce, who looked mildly uncomfortable. “How about you? Have you ever been in there?”

“A few times. I went once at night, and my imagination went into overdrive. I go only when I have to, and if I do, I go when the sun’s high in the sky. You have guts if you go in at night. I bet there’s freaky stuff going on in there. Cultish stuff.”

Everett smiled and fiddled with the beginnings of a hole in his jeans. Bryce turned the radio on and mainstream rap and pop accompanied them to their destination.

Everett wasn’t sure if his house was something to be embarrassed about. It was single story and had a small lawn divided in two by a cobbled path, and a weathered mailbox set into the lawn at an angle. Years ago, a car had gone off the road and bumped into the mailbox, slowing down just enough to tilt it. Then there were the living room curtains that looked like something out of a thrift shop, the windows foggy with grime, the porch lantern that was almost opaque with dust, and the porch that was in need of maintenance. Everett came to the conclusion that yes, his house was shameful. His unwashed car was behind the closed garage door, collecting dust, but saving Everett the extra embarrassment.

“You dress like your house,” Bryce said.

Everett didn’t know if Bryce turned the radio down or if his imagination made the volume take a sudden dive.

“I didn’t mean that to be offensive,” Bryce breezed out. “Your clothes go with your house because they’re worn from a lot of use, and it’s pretty cool. Like, comfy. You know? Thrifty.”

“It
is
comfy. I’ve lived here my entire life. It’s almost a part of myself.” Everett opened his door.

“Wait. I’ll get that for you.” Bryce turned the car off and rushed to Everett’s side.

“I’m fine.” Everett’s face burned as Bryce’s arm came around his waist. “I’m not made of porcelain.”

“Are you going to be fine on your own?”

“It was just a short faint. I’m fine.” Everett stepped out of Bryce’s hold. “My keys are in the bag.”

“Got it.” Bryce grabbed the bag from the backseat and slung it over his shoulder. “Which pocket?” But he was already looking through the bag.

He opened the front pocket first, where the salt bag was. His face was stone neutrality. Then he clucked his tongue and pulled the plastic baggie out. “You really love salt, don’t you?”

“That was for an experiment. Not for eating.”

Everett grabbed his keys from the pocket and kept his eyes away from the salt. If he acted like it wasn’t a big deal, then it
wasn’t
a big deal.

“What kind of experiment?”

Everett took the salt and put it in his messenger bag as he walked up the front path. “Nothing interesting. It was a failure anyway.”

“Care to tell?”

“It’s embarrassing. I don’t think I could stomach telling anyone.”

“I won’t laugh.” Bryce leaned toward Everett’s face as Everett unlocked the front door. “I’ll try not to.”

“You’ll think I’m delusional and deserving of a trip to a madhouse.”

“Tell me.
Pleeease….
”

Bryce fluttered his long lashes and leaned closer. Everett stared at the black lashes as they got closer. Then he remembered to open the door.

“I’ll see you tomorrow. Bye.”

He felt strangely self-conscious when he stepped inside and closed the door. Everywhere Bryce had touched him warmed.

EVERETT DIDN’T
want to visit the dojang the next day. He wanted to wait until next week, when the hype surrounding his collapse had disappeared. But time was limited, so he went, and he found his concern for unwanted attention excessive. None of the students noticed him open the door. A few students looked at him during class, but they were short-lived glances that were more random than curious.

He didn’t cast any heavy spells, but he poked around the dojang for any residue. No strings, no paranormal signs, nothing to be cautious of. During the transition from the beginner to the intermediate classes, Bryce gave Everett a water bottle for his apparent dehydration. Bryce also asked if Everett had any news from his grandfather about classes, to which Everett feigned uncertainty.

He had gotten an earful from his grandfather about his excessive use of energy last night. When asked why he had cast spells in a martial arts dojang of all places, Everett’s cheeks turned pink with thoughts of Bryce. His grandfather urged him to speak and threatened to confiscate his library card if he didn’t. Everett had said he used several spells to check out a certain boy he was interested in. After that his grandfather gave a speech about witching morals, alternate methods of getting to know someone without witching—in other words, “talking”—and The Talk.

Everett still hadn’t asked about self-defense lessons. He knew his grandfather would turn it down because of the expenses. If the scholarships Bryce mentioned were substantial,
maybe
Everett would be able to attend a few months of classes. He could get closer to understanding the strange behavior of the jellyfish spirits and the spiritual residue.

He wasn’t sure if yesterday’s shock wave was an aftereffect of his extreme spell casting or a defensive maneuver by a paranormal creature. He hadn’t found any traces of nonhumans, but the energy wave easily could have originated from a skilled paranormal being with defensive reflexes. It explained both the sudden disappearance of the residue and the jellyfish spirits’ eagerness to lead him to the school. It didn’t explain why Everett hadn’t been attacked. Surely a powerful paranormal being would have tracked him down after class and finished him off.

It would have been much simpler to chalk up the shock wave to Everett’s exhaustion, but it was more productive—and exciting—to assume a paranormal creature was hiding in the room.

He had promised his grandfather not to cast any spells until Saturday, but his fingers had been crossed behind his back.

Strip away the auras.

He sensed the energy wave before it hit him.

Wall. Wall. Wall.

The wave crashed into his mental wall. Only he could see the delicate crystal formation protecting his face. It rippled like water when the waves crashed against it and receded.

He had no time to celebrate his impressive defense.

Strip away the auras.

He blocked the shock wave. It was just as strong as the previous one, but his wall was weaker. Instead of the slap from yesterday, it was a flick of cold air across his mind.

His gut gauged the shock wave’s origins to be from the far side of the room.

Strip away the auras.

The third shock wave held the combined strength of the first and second. Everett’s wall shattered. He held himself upright through the brunt of the dizzy spell.

“Why are you so sloppy today?” Bryce said to the students, his words’ impact cushioned by his soft tone.

The students mumbled excuses.

When the throb ebbed, Everett collected his belongings and went home.

He was certain the dojang had a paranormal haunting.

EVERETT LINGERED
in the Ashville library, pretending to look at biographical books while he put together his investigation plan. He staked it on the possibility the paranormal creature didn’t know of Everett’s witching talent. If the energy waves were an automatic defense, there was a possibility, though small, the creature didn’t have the slightest clue it was being hunted. Everett assumed if it knew he was a witch, it would have already retaliated. It could have followed him home, sent lackeys after him, or barraged his psyche with attacks.

Maybe it didn’t have sentience. Everett’s hand poised over a book he was about to draw out.

The creature could be as dumb as an unmanned tank. It had the resources to attack, but there was no one to pilot it. Maybe it had an automatic defensive system to target those who fired upon it.

Maybe it was sentient and was unconsciously lashing out at probing spells. And if it was that powerful when it was asleep….

Everett numbly lowered his hand to his side.

Conscious or not, something this powerful could be attracting other creatures.

ON HIS
way home down the woods’ path, he saw one of the jellyfish spirits floating by a tree branch. He stood underneath it and smiled up at the floating orb. Its little tentacles squeezed in and spread out, like a star repeatedly bursting.

“How can I see you?” He hadn’t cast any spells to expose it.

The jellyfish attached itself to his wrist and tugged him in the direction of home. Alone, it didn’t have much strength. He let it guide him farther down the path.