The Bridge

by Rachel Lou

“Frustrating.” Bryce put his phone down. His gaze softened as he gave Everett a once-over. “You look good.”

  “You too.”

  In worn jeans, a snug T-shirt, and gray hoodie, Bryce was a black-eyed wonder.

  “Are you hungry? I ordered a medium vegetarian pizza. Should be coming out in a few minutes.”

  “How much was it?” Everett took the seat across from Bryce, and the distance seemed closer than it was.

  “It’s all on me. Don’t worry.”

  “That’s very kind of you.” Everett unconsciously twirled his hair around his finger.

  “It’s my gift after ignoring you for days. It’s almost been a week.” Bryce made a steeple with his fingers on the table. Gray scales lined the sides of his pinkies. “I’m sorry about it all. The ignoring and the awkwardness and I pushed you too. I’m sorry. It took me off guard that you’d move that quickly. I thought you’d go slower or something.”

  Everett dwelled on Bryce’s final words. He was going to strangle Buzz when he got home.

  “I have to apologize as well, for touching you. I don’t know what I was thinking. I really don’t. It makes no sense.” Had Buzz done it to spite Everett? “I barely know you and that’s completely uncharacteristic of me. It’s like I didn’t do it at all.”

  Bryce chuckled and rubbed his pinkie. The scales were gone. “I was more than shocked at the grope because I was pretty sure your hands weren’t moving.”

  Everett was going to strangle Buzz until he inked, and then some.

  “Brains don’t pick up everything when they’re in shock. Sometimes they imagine things,” Everett said.

  “My mind definitely didn’t imagine the groping. It was pretty hard to ignore.”

  “Pun?”

  Bryce looked through his eyelashes at Everett. “Maybe.”

  The waiter brought their pizza. Bryce went to get water, and Everett took the salt packet out. He stripped Bryce’s aura but encountered a block just as Bryce’s skin started to gray.

  “Did you feel that?” Bryce asked, setting the cups on the table.

  “Feel what?”

  “Did the temperature drop or is it just me?”

  Everett twisted his lips and shook his head.

  “Lately I’ve been picking up nonexistent temperature changes. Must be going crazy.” Bryce trailed off into thoughtful silence.

  Everett filled his mouth with pizza.

  “Oh. Somebody’s hungry,” Bryce said.

  Everett kicked Bryce under the table.

  Bryce jumped in his chair. “You kick hard. We should expand on that tomorrow.”

  “It’s my birthday,” Everett said, covering his mouth with a hand.

  “Seriously?” Bryce dropped his jaw.

  “I told you it was coming up.” Everett shrugged and tore off a piece of his pizza slice. Marinara sauce squeezed out, oozing onto his fingers and dripping onto his plate.

  “You should have told me. I would have brought a gift.” Bryce ran his hand over his scalp. “You’re eighteen, right?”

  Everett nodded and licked his fingers clean. He hadn’t celebrated his birthday since his parents disappeared. His middle- and high-school teachers had received e-mails from his grandfather asking for his birthday to be unmentioned. He hadn’t celebrated it until now, and for the first time in a decade, he wanted to.

  “We should celebrate with something cooler than pizza.”

  “I think this is cool enough. I haven’t gone out with a friend in a long time.” Everett smiled.

  “Cool to you.” Bryce shrugged and stuffed pizza in his mouth.

  AFTER THEY ate, they strolled down the streets, talking about whatever crossed their minds.

  Bryce’s hands were another set of lips for him. He waved them as he spoke, gesturing passionately at things that were not there. Physical speakers usually ended up whacking Everett in the face. Not Bryce. He worked around Everett’s closeness. The sidewalk was a stage to him, and when he spun with his gestures, he stepped forward or backward, and Everett held on to every word and hand motion, enthralled by Bryce’s passion.

  “Enough about me. Tell me about your shop.” Bryce stuck his hands in his hoodie’s pockets and synchronized his steps with Everett’s.

  “We sell paranormal fiction. A lot of what we shelve used to be out of print, and some of the books we have are collector’s editions or first prints. We also have a publishing service, where you can publish with us and sell your books in print on our shelves. We haven’t published a book in a while since we’re a bit picky.” Everett had thought of publishing a novel during high school, but in between all his schoolwork, paranormal research, and shop assistance there was little time to write.

  “My dad’s a novelist. He writes paranormal fiction.” Bryce grinned.

  “Really? What name does he write under?”

  Bryce’s grin melted. “I don’t know. He’s very protective over his writing. Says he wants to keep it out of his personal life.”

  They looped around the block when they reached the residential blocks and completed a full lap around the downtown area. It could have taken thirty minutes or an hour; Everett’s perception of time shortened around Bryce. He wanted the night to last forever.

  The Pizza Shack sign came into sight. Everett brushed hands with Bryce. They smiled at each other, and Everett wondered if he should make a move. He desired the callused touch of Bryce’s hand.

  “This was a lot of fun,” Bryce said when they were on the second floor of the public parking lot, next to Bryce’s recently washed car.

  Everett ran a finger along the passenger door handle. “We should do this again sometime.”

  Bryce’s gaze followed Everett’s finger. “I thought that was obvious. I haven’t had this much fun in a long time. I didn’t talk your ears off, did I?”

  “I loved listening to you. Your happiness is contagious. It makes me happy. Obviously.” Everett could make a fool of himself right now and he wouldn’t care. “This was the best birthday I’ve had in years.”

  Bryce unlocked his car, and under the parking structure lights, he looked like a god. “You’re different today. I like it.”

  “You don’t like the real me?”

  “This is the real you. You’re comfortable and you don’t want to go home.” Bryce pointed at Everett’s hold on the door handle. “I could take you to my place if you want. My family isn’t home, and I have dessert.”

  Everett’s blood rushed. “I’d love to, but I need to ask my grandfather first. I left my phone at home.”

  “You’re eighteen and you still need permission?” Bryce chuckled and lent his cell.

  The moment the line picked up, Everett’s grandfather demanded, “Who is this?”

  “It’s me, Everett.”

  “Thank goodness. Buzz told me not to worry. He couldn’t sense any distress from you, but I still worried. Where are you?”

  “I’m in the parking structure with Bryce. I was actually wondering if I could spend the night with him. Not a full night. Just a few hours. He’s offering to drive me.”

  Bryce leaned against his car and watched Everett with a small smile, twirling his keys around his finger.

  “Mr. Pendley has news on Omar’s disappearance. You need to come home now.”

  “Bad news?” Everett frowned and Bryce did the same, catching his keys with a crunch.

  “I don’t know. He won’t tell me until you get here.”

  “See you in a few.”

  Everett handed the phone back. “I can’t make it. I’m sorry. My grandfather needs me.”

  Bryce plastered on a smile. “It’s okay. Tomorrow maybe? My family will be home, but I can tell them to leave us alone.”

  “I’ll ask. I’ll see you tomorrow at the dojang.” Everett began to walk backward to the stairs.

  Bryce nodded. “It was a great first date tonight, huh?” He winked and got in his car.

  Everett dumbly watched Bryce drive down the exit ramp.
<
br />   MR. PENDLEY sipped tea with Everett’s grandfather in the living room. The TV was turned to the news where an excited weatherwoman reported the warm temperatures that would follow the rest of the week.

  “Good evening.” Everett locked the door and tried not to dwell on how cramped the apartment felt with just a single guest in it.

  He sat at the end of the sofa. It was closer to Mr. Pendley, who smelled of ink, than to his grandfather.

  Mr. Pendley muted the TV. He crossed his legs and put his hands on top of his knees and said, “Omar’s house was tampered with on Friday. There were bloodstains in the master bedroom. The team attempted to track the perpetrator through the blood, but a block hindered them. The block was strong, but the team broke through.” He looked at Everett, eyes hooded and the corners of his lips twisted. “Mr. Hallman, is there anything you’d like to say?”

  Everett’s grandfather dropped his teacup on its saucer. “Everett!”

  His gaze burned Everett more than the scratches on his back did.

  “I wanted to help!”

  “You could have been killed,” Mr. Pendley said. “An investigation zone is never completely safe.” He removed a hand-sized tape recorder from the inside of his blazer. “Your grandfather is going to tend to the shop. While he’s doing that, you will tell me everything from start to end, including your thoughts.”

  “Of course.” Resisting wouldn’t help anybody. His grandfather was staring at his lap, face scrunched in crushing disappointment. “Grandpa? I’m sorry I did this.”

  His grandfather wouldn’t look him in the eyes.

  “Grandpa, I was careful. I didn’t leave any marks until—until the woman came, but Buzz took care of her. Buzz has my back.”

  “You’ve put much more at stake.” His grandfather’s voice cracked, and Everett wished he could go back in time to reverse the damage. “After I told you to be careful. After I moved us. I did everything I could to keep you safe. Don’t you appreciate that?” His grandfather quietly put his tea on the coffee table and left. The apartment’s front door shut with finality.

  Everett would rather have his grandfather scream and smash his teacup against the wall. He hated the silence. And he hated how Mr. Pendley shook his head as though everything was Everett’s fault.

  Mr. Pendley pocketed the recorder. “Everett, I’m not going to record you, but I need you to tell me what you did.”

  Everett wanted to shove Mr. Pendley out and go to sleep. His grandfather wouldn’t appreciate it, so he did as Mr. Pendley asked. “I unlocked the front door with a spell. Buzz checked the house before I went in. I wore gloves, shoe covers, and a hairnet. I looked for residue in all the rooms—for both humans and paranormal beings—and I was in the dining room when the woman came in. I didn’t see her, but she attacked me with a spell and knocked me over. Buzz held her off so I could escape through the back door. After that, Buzz put a block on blood-tracking spells. I was going to create a traditional spell brew to hold off the tracking, but there’s no point now.”

  Everett’s back flared with a distant ache. He tugged on the back of his shirt to separate the fabric from the scratches.

  “You should continue your plans to cast those spells. Whoever broke into the house might be working on your defense as we speak. What spell is this?”

  “Tag Block III. Buzz got the natural ingredients and I’m going to get the rest tomorrow.”

  Mr. Pendley lifted his chin in a half nod. “Get to work on that as soon as you can. It’s important you secure what you can of your safety.”

  Everett nodded firmly. “I’ll do everything I can. I feel terrible for the strain I’ve put on my grandfather—and the Order. Mr. Pendley, what’s your connection to the Order? I never picked up what your relation is.”

  “I am a simple messenger.” Mr. Pendley made the first friendly smile Everett had seen. “I have a son about your age, and he would have done the same.”

  “Is he a witch?”

  Mr. Pendley’s facial muscles twitched, making his smile waver. “He is not.”

  “But you are?”

  “I haven’t cast a spell in years.” Mr. Pendley’s smile remained wary. It watered the suspicion blooming in Everett’s chest.

  “Is your wife a witch too?”

  “She was.” Mr. Pendley cleared his throat and looked at the muted TV screen. A news reporter was interviewing the resident of a burglarized apartment in Ashville.

  “If you and Mrs. Pendley were witches, how is your son not a witch?”

  “Two witches don’t automatically produce a witch child. It is rare, but sometimes the child develops into something else—human or monster.” Mr. Pendley checked his wristwatch. His eyes were faraway, and they stared through the watch. “Thank you for the information. I’ll pass it along to the investigation team. It may create new leads.”

  Everett locked the back door behind Mr. Pendley, then he tiptoed downstairs where his grandfather was restocking the bestsellers shelf.

  The shop’s lights were on the dimmest setting, and the curtains were drawn over the windows and front doors. It was like a house with hundreds of new books, a cash register, and security cameras. The reading room would have been inviting for a late read if Everett wasn’t choking on unshed tears.

  His grandfather could see Everett from the direction he faced, but he didn’t look at Everett. His eyes stayed on the books he shelved and the gaps he had left to fill.

  “Grandpa,” Everett said softly.

  His call got no response.

  “Grandpa,” he said louder.

  “Did you walk Mr. Pendley to his car?” his grandfather asked.

  “I did.” Everett swallowed what felt like a glob of hot glue. He spun a rotational shelf. The rhythmic spinning was calming.

  “Grandpa, I—” The words died on his tongue.

  His grandfather shelved the books like a ghost that repeated an action over and over, stuck in their past life. Maybe his grandfather wanted that. A simple life where he didn’t gain any more wrinkles from his reckless grandson.

  The door rattled, and Everett knew it was Buzz throwing his body against it. Buzz’s presence was a soft cushion in Everett’s mind, comforting and welcomed.

  Everett’s grandfather moved on to the last box of books.

  “I’ll let him in.” Everett turned off the alarm system, and when he opened the door, Buzz careened into his chest.

  Buzz purred and stuck to Everett’s chest like an octopus, with his tentacles spread in a starburst.

  “Where have you been?” Everett said.

  His question was rhetorical, so it was completely unexpected when a genderless voice floated through his head.

  “With my buddies.”

  Everett’s grandfather continued to shelve, but whether he heard Buzz or not was uncertain.

  “Grandpa? Did you hear that?”

  “Did Buzz speak to you?” His grandfather’s words would have been emotionless if it wasn’t for the slight increase in pitch.

  “His voice…. He spoke, and it echoed in my head. No, it didn’t echo. It was like he was speaking in my head through a headpiece, but the quality was as if he was verbally speaking.”

  “You can hear me now? I’ve been trying to communicate with words since I met you, but our bond wasn’t developed enough.”

  Buzz’s voice cut off in the middle of some words as if they were speaking through a choppy phone connection.

  “Some of your voice is getting filtered,” Everett said.

  It might take a while until it’s perfect, but you can respond with your though—

  Buzz’s voice cut off.

  “Your signal got cut off,” Everett said.

  “It will take time for the bond to solidify. Until then, enjoy the communication you already have.” Everett’s grandfather finished the box and kicked it at the back door. “Put this outside, please.”

  When Everett came back inside, his grandfather was locking the doors and turning on the
alarm.

  “Grandpa—”

  “I don’t want to hear your excuses. No more foolishness or I will report you to the Order.”

  Everett’s mind emptied of all coherent thought.

  “Understood?” his grandfather said, his voice leaving no room for disagreeing.

  Everett swallowed drily. “Understood.”

  BRYCE TEXTED, Are you asleep?

  Dressed in his pajamas, Everett fluffed his pillow against the wall and used it as a backrest. He had been heading to bed, but before he kicked his feet under his blankets, his phone lit the room with a notification.

  I’m awake.

  Can I call you?

  Everett closed his door.

  I’ll call you. My grandfather is sleeping, and I don’t want my ringtone to wake him.

  Buzz was at Stanley Hugh Park with his “buddies” scoping out the woods. Buzz’s friends were fellow spirits, one of whom was uncertain if she was feeling a pull to become the familiar of a witch still forming in her mother’s womb. Buzz had informed Everett that familiars didn’t choose their witches; an unknown force drew spirits along to their respective partners. Sometimes familiars were drawn to their witches before birth, and sometimes they were drawn to their witches decades later. Timing seemed to be random. When Everett had asked Buzz about their timing, Buzz said it was relatively recent and went off to the park.

  Everett tucked his hair behind his ears and pulled his bangs back with a headband. He moistened his mouth, swallowed the saliva, and called.

  “Hey,” Bryce exhaled.

  “I don’t want to talk too loud. The walls are thin.”

  Bryce chuckled. For several seconds he only breathed. “I want to ask you something, and I want an honest answer.”

  “I try to always give an honest answer. What’s your question?”

  “Would you like to upgrade yesterday’s hanging out to an official first date?”

  Everett’s stomach dropped a thousand feet. He was on a roller coaster now. His emotions soared up and down, racing from excitement to anxiety, but always happy. He pressed his knuckles to his mouth.

  “A literal first date. Or we could schedule another hanging out and make that the first date. The official first date.” Bryce cleared his throat and um’d and er’d. “I’m not reading into things, right?”