The Bridge (9 page)

“Don’t overestimate your abilities. You aren’t a trained Bridge Master yet.”

“Even before Mr. Pendley came, I knew my limits.”

“Did you know your limits when you overcast on Tuesday?”

That had been when he passed out in the dojang. “I knew my limits. I wasn’t expecting a backlash.”

Everett stored the mop in the shower and brushed his fingers against a spiderweb. He withdrew his hand quickly and cut it on the edge of the shower door.

He shoved his finger in his mouth and blinked back prickly tears.

His grandfather brought him over to the sink and ran the cut under water. “I didn’t mean to upset you.”

“I’m not upset. I just don’t like it when you assume I don’t know myself. I do. I know my limits. I choose to go close to them for the sake of getting what I want. Sometimes the outcome is worth the risk.”

“What could you possibly want that puts your life in danger?” His grandfather stuck a bandage over the cut.

“To sate my curiosity. I was born a witch. I don’t want to ignore my abilities. I want to use all the gifts I was born with.”

“Your father said something similar a long time ago. Your mother too. Those two were peas in a pod.”

“That’s why they’re still married.”

Concern flooded his grandfather’s face. “Everett….”

He looked at his bandage. “They’re dead, I know. We’ve gone over this.”

An idea suddenly came to mind. Bridge Masters could travel to the spirit realm. If his parents truly were dead, they’d be there.

Of course, he knew nothing about how bridging really worked or the energy it required. He imagined it would take up all his energy and more to simply cross the bridge. Maintaining himself in the spirit world could be another story. And bridging to the correct afterlife? Just bridging to the afterlife alone was a breach of witching ethics.

“We should head home. It is getting late and we still need to eat dinner,” his grandfather said.

On the way to the employee section of the public parking structure, Buzz dropped on Everett’s head.

“Grandpa, can you see this?” Everett petted Buzz’s cap.

“See what?”

“There’s a spirit on my head right now. It’s been following me since yesterday. I named it Buzz.”

His grandfather stared hard at Buzz. “I can’t see anything.”

“Do I need to expose it to you?”

“I’m not well versed on familiar laws, but that might be the case.”

Everett stopped in the middle of the aisle. “I have a familiar?”

“When you were a child, your parents told me of a spirit that had introduced itself as your familiar. Only certain witches receive familiars—Bridge Masters among them.”

Buzz vibrated against his head.

“I have a
jellyfish
for a familiar?”

“A jellyfish?” His grandfather coughed to mask a laugh. “You have a jellyfish for a familiar?”

“I thought familiars were more… traditional”—like a cat or a raven—“and of larger, epic proportions.”

Buzz zapped Everett.

“Ouch! I’m sorry, but you’re not what I had in mind.”

Buzz rocketed in front of them and blew up in size until it covered both ends of the aisle, its tentacles draped over cars like the aisle was its chair, and the cars its armrest.

Everett’s grandfather froze, eyes huge with childlike awe and shock. “I see it now.”

Buzz pointed a human-sized tentacle at Everett. It opened its bulbous eye to glare.

“Don’t judge by size.” His grandfather’s voice was faint with wonder.

“I won’t make that mistake again,” Everett said.

Buzz shrank to its previous size and happily swam to rest on Everett’s head.

“You waited until now to show yourself to me?” Everett poked Buzz’s cap.

“It must have waited for your aura to develop,” Everett’s grandfather said, rubbing Buzz’s cap.

But a jellyfish familiar? Why’d it have to be a jellyfish? Everett sighed.

HIS GRANDFATHER
waited in the driveway while Everett checked if Omar was home. Omar hadn’t returned the missed calls or answered the new ones. It wasn’t likely he’d be gone for two days in a row without prior notice, but the house was as empty as before.

The door remained closed after a few minutes of doorbell ringing and waiting. Everett tried the doorknob and found it locked.

“This is ridiculous. I’m calling the Order,” his grandfather said. The sharp frustration of his voice was uneasy.

Everett felt the same.

He slipped a finger in his salt pouch. “There’s no residue, but do you think something happened to him?”

He turned around after receiving no answer. His grandfather was on the sidewalk, already phoning the Order.

He sighed and after a long look at the doorknob, shuffled off the porch. His grandfather spoke in a quiet, firm voice. He overheard a few words like
unacceptable
,
harmful
, and
safety
.

His phone buzzed with a text from Bryce.
Hey, there’s an open slot from 7-8 tonight. Do you want it? I can book it for you.

Everett was surprised to see his thumbs tremble over his phone screen. For goodness’ sake, this wasn’t a date or anything.

That’d be awesome. Thanks!

Wear sweats and tie your hair up—if you can. Or just pin it back. Whatever you like. I’ll see you then!

Did Bryce consider Everett a friend? He seemed to enjoy spending time with Everett, and his determination to book lessons with Everett had stood him through Everett’s multiple rejections.

Rejections.

As though friendship involved such a heavy word.

Did Everett dare think so highly of himself? Bryce had even gone out of his way to get him a scholarship—not to mention walk through the woods just to deliver an informational folder.

Buzz popped in front of Everett and landed on the bush in front of the front door’s alcove. It vibrated, its outline rippling with waves.

“Buzz, what’s wrong?”

Buzz flitted to the doorknob and vibrated.

“Should I go in?”

Buzz exploded in a show of phantasmal sparks.

“Everett, let’s go,” his grandfather called.

Everett tossed the knob a look. “Maybe later, Buzz.”

He quickly got in the car and shut the door. Buzz dove into the bushes where it inconspicuously remained out of sight.

“Something’s up with Buzz. It vibrated like it was warning me.”

“Buzz’s pink color marks him as a
he
, and you should take his warning seriously. His goal is to protect you. Until we find Omar, stay away from this neighborhood. If Buzz has a bad feeling about this, so should you.”

“Is Omar missing?”

“It isn’t confirmed, but the Order has reason to suspect so.”

Everett held his bag more securely in his lap. “Do they think it has something to do with me?”

“It’s not likely. The only people who should know of the lessons are you, me, Mr. Pendley, and Omar. You and I didn’t tell anyone about the lessons, so either Mr. Pendley or Omar slipped the info. If not, then someone overheard. That’s assuming there was foul play.”

“But Buzz’s reaction hints at foul play.”

“It does.”

THE LAVENDER
incense wasn’t clearing Everett’s thoughts. They swam in his head in many directions, sometimes never connecting with each other. A few traveled so far they were completely different from what they started off as. Somehow, his thoughts of Buzz led to Bryce, and his thoughts of Omar’s disappearance led to his martial arts lessons.

It was almost time to leave for his private lesson, and Everett still hadn’t conquered his messy thoughts. He had listed the happenings of the days leading up to his “awakening” as a Bridge Master and tried to find any connections. All the connections he made were desperate grasps.

“Everett?” His grandfather knocked. “I’m getting groceries. Do you want to come?”

“I have lessons with Bryce soon.”

“This late?”

“It’s the last slot of the day. I guess I’m lucky to have snagged it.” Everett suspected Bryce would have pulled strings if it hadn’t been open.

“Are you going to drive?”

“It’s too late to walk.”

The wood’s paranormal life was already awake. If he walked, he’d have to take a detour, which would add up to about an hour of walking.

A moment passed before his grandfather said, “Drive safely.”

“Always.”

Everett put out the incense sticks and cleaned the ash catcher. He dressed in a thick cotton T-shirt and the only pair of sweatpants he had. He took a step outside, found it too cold, and went back inside for a sweater.

His car was colder than normal and the oddity of it elevated his worries. A quick scan showed no paranormal residue, but still. Everything abnormal worried him. He looked for residue during his drive and had to pull over for a minute when he felt faint.

The downtown streets were close to empty. He parked behind Bryce’s car. The blinds were drawn over the dojang’s windows, but warm light spilled through the inch between the blinds and the ground.

Show me the traces.

A network of residual spirit lines stuck out from the dojang’s doors. They stabbed through Everett’s car, ran through him, and tangled on the road in a knot the length of three minivans. Some of the strands reached toward the shops, as if someone had tried to undo the knot.

Everett inspected a few strands lying in front of him. They were the same as the ones from last week.

The strands had appeared two Sundays in a row.

Coincidence or not?

Someone knocked on Everett’s window.

Everett jumped in his seat and almost smashed his hands against the horn.

Bryce stood outside in his T-shirt and sweatpants, his face scrunched with laughter.

Everett opened his door and almost whacked Bryce with it. “Don’t do that. You scared me.”

“I was wondering why you didn’t come in after two minutes.”

“You timed me?”

“Maybe.” Bryce laughed when Everett got out of his car. “You remind me of Melinda in those clothes.”

Everett wasn’t sure he wanted to be compared to a family member—especially a female one. He locked his car and scowled, but it was hard to do when he was smiling. He couldn’t help smiling when he tried to cover his embarrassment.

“Must be really comfy and warm,” Bryce said.

“Not really. It’s freezing and—” Everett looked at where the knot of energy was. It had faded along with the exposure spell. “—just really cold.”

The dojang wasn’t much warmer. The fans were on full spin and the room reeked of body odor.

“It stinks,” Everett said.

“Other students. Not me. I swear.” Bryce sniffed his armpits. Everett looked away from Bryce’s flexed bicep. “I should reapply my deodorant, though. Be right back. Stretch and warm up.”

After the restroom door clicked, Everett exposed the strands. They originated at five points, in the shape of a circle, moved around the room with no connection to each other, and then all went outside where they formed the knot.

Bryce came out of the restroom. “Why are you still standing?” he said, his smile sly.

“Just thinking.” Everett put his bag on a chair and slipped off his shoes.

“You bring that bag everywhere. Is it like your purse?” Bryce asked. “Not that there’s anything wrong with that, but shouldn’t it be smaller?”

“I like to be prepared.”

Bryce smirked and stretched his arms. His T-shirt rose and exposed a line of smooth olive skin. “So do you have an extra change of clothes in there?”

“A book, keys, phone. That’s it.”

Everett copied Bryce’s stretch. His shirt also rose, but it was too big to go any higher than his crotch. His shirt folds were like an accordion. No amount of stretching would expose his skin.

“You like reading?”

Everett smiled. “I love reading.”

“Me too. I like reading humor books.” Bryce touched his toes and tucked his chin to his knees, ears red. “I also like short stories. Every detail counts.”

“Do you have a favorite author?”

“I don’t remember authors. I just read random short stories. Lots of satirical shorts. Some parodies.” All of which fit Bryce perfectly.

They stood out of their stretches for a few seconds and looked at each other with small smiles. Something indescribable passed between them that warmed Everett’s neck.

Bryce grinned. “Ready to start?”

Everett nodded.

“Do you know anything about a sparring stance?”

“It’s the fighting stance.”

“Do it.”

Everett tried to recreate the stance he had seen in classes and on TV. It looked natural on the big screen, but in real life it was alien to him.

Bryce moved Everett’s hands so that one was in front of his cheek and the other was an inch under his chin. “Lift your back heel and keep your toes on the ground. And loosen your body a little. Don’t be too stiff.”

Bryce was a gentle teacher. He instructed with a patient voice and soft touches. The touches were like magnets. Everett followed Bryce’s guiding hands with the natural smoothness and ancient familiarity of the Earth orbiting the sun.

They covered the movements of the sparring stance when in combat. Bryce taught the different timing of bounces by moving alongside Everett. They swayed back and forth, jumped up and down in a rhythm that was foreign alone, but natural together.

Bryce added in the footwork that served as the proper movements around a sparring ring. He had Everett follow him across the floor with different steps at varying speeds. At one point they were nearly sprinting. Some of the footwork looked silly when done in a rush, such as the half step, which was a quick step forward with the leading leg, and a quick step backward with the back leg.

The majority of their hour together was spent learning basic punches and kicks. Everett had difficulty with the kicks because of his lack of flexibility. Kicking at waist level pained his hamstrings, so he stretched his legs for several minutes while Bryce demonstrated the kicks, pulling his sweats tight over his muscular legs to show the details of each technique.