The Rules and Regulations for Mediating Myths & Magic

by F. T. Lukens

  But his mom. He’d have to tell his mom so she didn’t hear it from anyone else. An image flashed across his mind, one born from the hag, of his dad leaving and his mom not wanting him. It was an ice pick to the heart. He absently rubbed his chest; his throat squeezed around a wheeze. He took a deep breath to keep the panic and fear at bay, and it worked—sort of.

  Ugh. How was he going to broach the subject? How was his mom going to take it?

  Oh, crap, his mom!

  She stood on their front porch, arms crossed, dressed in casual clothes—not her scrubs—hair pulled back in a messy ponytail. She tapped her bare foot on the welcome mat and glared at him through the windshield. She didn’t look pleased. At all.

  “Your plan might have to wait.”

  Bridger gulped. “Yeah.”

  “Get out of my car, dude. I had a great day. I hung out with a pixie. The last thing I need is spillover from mom angst to affect my mood.”

  “You’re a great friend.”

  “I’m amazing.”

  “No, really, Astrid. You’re my best friend. I won’t take you for granted again.”

  Astrid blushed. “Well, you’re not a bad friend yourself. I mean, you’ve worn tiaras for me and you’ve always had my back.”

  “And I always will. And I know you have mine.”

  “I swung a hockey stick at an evil creature of the night for you. Or don’t you remember?”

  Bridger mustered a smile. “You are a true badass.”

  His mother’s frown deepened, and his smile became a wince.

  “And you’re in so much trouble. But don’t worry. We’ll figure this whole Leo thing out, and then you can indoctrinate me into the cool ass job you’ve been hiding from me.”

  “I’ll even tell you about the unicorn.”

  She whipped around in her seat. “You met a unicorn! And you didn’t tell me?”

  “I even touched it. Before it tried to run me down and gore me.”

  “I’m insanely jealous. Except for the goring part. And… I have questions about how you could touch a unicorn unless the whole thing with Becky Vanderhock freshman year was a lie.”

  “Gotta go.”

  “Text me later.”

  “We’ll see.”

  Bridger slowly got out of the car and grabbed his bag. Astrid rolled down her window and waved at Bridger’s mom and gave her a sunny smile. “Hi, Mrs. Whitt!”

  Bridger made a face at Astrid. Great. Astrid’s action came off not as friendly but as mocking. She was not his mom’s favorite person, and that probably added a few more years to Bridger’s impending grounding.

  He couldn’t protect Leo if he was grounded and if his mom was home at night for the next few days.

  Crap. Crap. Crappity crap.

  “Where have you been?” his mother asked through clenched teeth as she opened the door and gestured for Bridger to go inside. “And before you say school, they’ve already called me, and I know you weren’t there.”

  “I was at Astrid’s.”

  His mom pointed at the kitchen chair. “Sit.”

  There was no use arguing. She was in mom-rage mode. Bridger plopped into the chair and dropped his bag by his feet. Though he’d slept the entire day, exhaustion crept in. The fight with Pavel had sapped what little strength he had gained, and there was the hag-hangover. His head pounded. His eye twitched. He hands shook where he drummed his fingers lightly on the table.

  “So, you were at Astrid’s. Doing what?”

  “I was sick. I went over to her house and threw up all night. It sucked, and I ended up sleeping the whole day. Her parents were at work. She was at school.”

  His mom crossed her arms. “Convenient.”

  “Yeah, I planned it that way.”

  His mom narrowed her eyes. “You better watch that smart mouth if you want to have a social life again before the spring. I’m not happy with you, Bridger, and your choices lately. I have a letter from your physics teacher that says your grades have fallen and he wants a conference with both of us. And I have a call from your government teacher that you never turned in a paper.”

  Oops.

  He’d done that paper. He was sure of it. Maybe.

  “It’s a case of senioritis. I’ll get it together.”

  “You better. I’m not sending any money to the college until you get your act together. And you’re quitting your job.”

  Bridger shot out of his chair. “You can’t do that!”

  “I can and I am.”

  “I’m not quitting my job.” Oh, hello irony. How’s the weather? “I like it, and it’s good for me.”

  “It takes up too much of your time. I’ve noticed.”

  Bridger snorted. “When? Between your regular shifts or the extra ones you take?”

  Her face turned red. “That’s it. Grounded. No after school activities. Straight home. No Astrid. No job.”

  Crap. Crap. Shit. How was he going to tempt Leo if he couldn’t be around him? “That’s not fair.”

  “This isn’t a negotiation. I am the parent here. You’re going to do what I say.”

  Bridger rolled his eyes. “Convenient.”

  His mother’s whole body stiffened, and her crossed arms tightened, became more of a hug around her frame than a defensive pose. “What does that mean?”

  Deflating, Bridger shook his head. “Nothing. It means nothing.” He jerked his thumb toward the living room. “Can I go now? I apparently have a paper to write and physics homework.”

  “No. You can’t. What is going on with you?”

  Great. This was the last thing he needed. “Nothing.”

  “Bullshit. Is something going on at school?”

  Bridger sighed.

  “Fine, is it about your dad?”

  “Not everything is about him!” Bridger threw up his hands in frustration. “That’s your hang-up, not mine.” His mom gasped, and her face went pale. It was a low blow. But Bridger was at the end of his rope, though that didn’t mean he couldn’t hang himself with it. He needed out of this situation before he gave something away, like himself. “I really don’t want to talk to you right now, if that’s okay? I’d like to go.”

  “What is so bad that you can’t tell me? Come on, kid. Let me help you. It can’t be so horrible that we can’t figure it out together.”

  “Fine, you want to know?” No. No. Abort mission. Bad idea.

  His mom nodded, wisps of hair falling in her face.

  “Fine. I like a guy. I want to make out with him. I want to ask him to Homecoming. There you go. There’s my big secret. Happy?”

  He didn’t know what he was expecting would happen. He had no gauge for how this was supposed to go, except a few TV shows he’d watched online, and those weren’t promising. Thus far his only personal examples had been surprisingly supportive. Astrid had been enthusiastic. Pavel was low-key and cool. His mom reached behind her and grasped for the back of the couch and leaned heavily against it. Her other hand went to her mouth and then into her hair, pushing the escaped strands out of her face.

  “I thought… Sally Goforth last year?”

  “Yeah. Sally last year. I liked her too. But right now, I like Leo. Across the street. He likes me too. And I’ve been trying to figure stuff out and I didn’t want to tell you like this. I wanted to tell you in a cool way, like over tacos or ice cream, calmly, and like an adult. So thanks for pushing me. Awesome. Best coming out story ever.”

  She pressed a hand to her chest. Her mouth hung open; her other hand turned white from the force of her grip on the couch. She didn’t say anything, and Bridger stood there, his thoughts strangely silent for once. He waited, for a response, any response, while he tracked the emotions that flickered over his mom’s face. In the end, she landed on shocked.

  After a few moments of silence, B
ridger sighed.

  “I’m going to go be bisexual in my room. If that’s okay with you? Great? Great.”

  He left.

  His mom didn’t follow. He didn’t know how to process that fact, or anything, honestly. He was too tired. He was too conflicted.

  He came out to his mom in a yelling match. Perfect.

  He dropped into the office chair at his desk and slumped forward. He lightly banged his head on the wood and scrunched his eyes shut.

  At least his mom hadn’t kicked him out. She didn’t yell at him or tell him she didn’t want him. She hadn’t done anything, other than try not to fall over.

  Of course, that could all change.

  Worry gnawed at Bridger’s gut, but he willed himself not to cry. He willed himself not to think. Instead, Bridger pulled himself together, suppressed all the emotions that threated to overwhelm him, and cracked open his physics book. He had problem sets to catch up on, and nothing was more mind-numbing than numbers.

  Bridger finished all his problem sets. He found the paper and had finished it, thank God. He proofread, saved it, and emailed it to his teacher with oops – paper attached as the subject line. He caught up on his English reading, though the lines began to blur during The Miller’s Tale.

  Now the book lay open on his chest as he sprawled on his bed, propped up by pillows. He stared at the ceiling. His mom hadn’t come to talk to him yet. He didn’t know what that meant.

  He had texts on his phone from Astrid and Leo, but he couldn’t bring himself to read them. He didn’t want to deal. He didn’t want to look out the window and see a hag or a howler or a pixie.

  He wanted to be Bridger. Regular Bridger.

  Except he couldn’t be regular Bridger.

  For one, he didn’t know who regular Bridger even was. For two, he had knowledge now and he couldn’t ignore that.

  Why did it have to be death? Why couldn’t it be puppies? Get past temptation and you get a puppy. That is much better than overcoming temptation and then death—do not pass go, do not collect two hundred dollars. Death.

  Whoever made up the rules was stupid.

  Bridger sat up when he heard a soft rap on his door, and then it creaked open. His mom stuck her head in. “Hey, kiddo.” She pushed the door open wider, but waited at the threshold. “Can I come in?”

  Bridger swung his legs over the side of the bed.

  “Sure.”

  She entered, looked around the room, and undoubtedly spied the dust and the laundry and the books thrown everywhere. She didn’t say anything. Instead, she spun his computer chair and sat. “So.”

  “So.” He could be laconic when he wanted to be. And he was in a mood. She could work for it.

  She twiddled her fingers. “Leo across the street? He’s the one who invited you to the beach. Right?”

  “Yeah.” Bridger picked a thread on his blanket. “You called him cute.”

  “Oh, I did.” Her cheeks went red, and she chuckled. “I didn’t think you’d take that literally.”

  Bridger barked a laugh in spite of himself. This was awkward. God, this was awkward. Maybe blurting it out in a fit of frustration was the better way to out himself if it saved him from a long conversation like this.

  “I’m sorry for the way I reacted. You know I love you, right?”

  Bridger bit his lip. “You do? Still?”

  She snapped her head up from where she studied the Rorschach blots of clothes spread over Bridger’s floor. “Of course, kid. Is that what has made you all weird? You thought I wouldn’t love you if you told me?”

  Bridger shrugged. “Maybe? You know, you hear things and you see things on TV and—”

  His mom sat beside him on the bed. She pulled him into a hug, tucked his head under her chin, and grasped him tight. Apparently, he wasn’t too old to tear up during a mom hug. He snuggled in, reveled in the embrace and the warmth, which he hadn’t realized he needed until right then.

  “Bridger, no. Please. I’ll love you forever and always. You have to know that. Everything I do is for you. Everything. I don’t care what you do or who you love as long as you’re happy.”

  The tension in Bridger’s shoulders eased. He didn’t know how badly he’d needed to hear that until he did and part of the weight of anxiety dissipated. Acceptance from his best friend, the guy he had a crush on, and his boss didn’t compare to acceptance from his mom. Holy hell. Best feeling.

  “I’m sorry we fought.”

  “Yeah, me too, kid. I’m sorry you thought you couldn’t tell me.”

  “I wanted to, but I didn’t know how. I’ve… found guys attractive for a while… but Leo was the first one that I really wanted to…” He cleared his throat. “…get to know.” Please get the innuendo. Please get the innuendo. Please. He did not want to spell that out.

  His mom hummed. “Oh, well, that’s… interesting. Okay. Well. If you do decide to… get to know Leo, then be safe about it. You won’t have to worry about anyone getting pregnant but you can still pass diseases and—”

  “Mom? Stop.”

  She huffed. “I’m a nurse. I have knowledge. And as a parent it’s my job to impart said knowledge.”

  “Not now, please. Later? Maybe?”

  “Okay.” She gave him another squeeze and then let go. She didn’t go far; their shoulders touched, and she patted his hand. “I’m serious about the grades though.”

  “I turned in the paper and I did all my problem sets. I even caught up on my English reading.”

  “Good to know you’re industrious when you’re mad. I should piss you off more often.”

  Bridger smirked. “No thanks.”

  She ruffled his hair; the blond locks fell into his face and around his ears. “You’re too cute for your own good. And Bridger, don’t bottle the important stuff up. Tell me. I promise, I will think before I react.”

  “Am I still grounded?”

  “Oh, yeah,” she said, with a smile. “For a few days. But I won’t stop you from running next door and asking Leo to Homecoming if that’s something you want to do right now.”

  Bridger shot to his feet. “Really?”

  “Yes.” She raised a finger. “You get thirty minutes. That is plenty of time to work up the nerve to ask and then hang around and blush.”

  He made a move toward the door, then stopped. “Are you going to be watching out the window?”

  “No. I will not. But from this point forward, be aware that I reserve the right to spy on you. If you are going to do any making out, better take it somewhere other than his front porch.”

  Bridger’s ears burned, and his whole face went hot. “I don’t even know what to say right now.”

  “Thank you would work.”

  “Thank you, Mom. And thanks for you know, not freaking out too badly about the whole bisexual thing.”

  She smiled, but it was tight, and there were lines around her mouth and on her forehead. “Go, Romeo. Get your… Julian?”

  “First, awful,” Bridger said, laughing and shaking his head. “Second, it’s not even a romance. They all die.”

  “Go!”

  Bridger bolted for his room door and heard his mom mumble something about at least he was learning something at school. As he hopped down the last few steps, he heard her yell. “We didn’t talk about the job!”

  “Taking a break from it!” he yelled back.

  Huh. That wasn’t even a lie. Much. It wasn’t much of a lie. Because he technically didn’t work for Pavel right then. He worked for himself. He had gone solo. He was self-employed.

  Bridger left his house and crossed the street, studiously not looking at the spot where he had encountered the hag last night. He couldn’t go there if he was going to be coherent. He only had thirty minutes. He had to build up his courage. He had to do this. Leo’s life depended on it. And that w
as weird. Leo’s life hinged on Bridger tempting him and keeping him frozen in the cycle. Thus avoiding a Romeo and Juliet-type end.

  How long would Bridger be able to keep that up?

  Maybe he should’ve thought this through a little better. Oh well. Too late now.

  Bridger knocked on the door. He kept his gaze firmly locked on his shoes on the Rivera’s front step, because if he looked up he wasn’t going to be able to spit this out.

  The door swung open.

  “Hi, Leo. Hope your day was good. Anyway, will you go to Homecoming with me? I know I said I wasn’t ready, but I am now. I’d like to be your date, if you don’t have one already, and if you do, well, I hadn’t thought that far ahead.”

  Bridger held his breath.

  The person in the door cleared their throat.

  Lifting his head, Bridger spied shiny loafers and creased pant legs, and as his gaze drifted upward, he found Mr. Rivera in his suit and tie, clearly just home from work, standing on the other side of the door.

  Oh, crap. If there was a time for a magical emergency, this would be it. Any unicorns nearby? Or a howler? Maybe even a ghost? Anyone?

  But, Mr. Rivera smiled widely underneath his mustache, and his eyes crinkled at the corners. He looked down on Bridger, which was no small feat since Bridger wasn’t short. “Leonidas just came home from practice. He’ll be down in a minute.”

  “Oh, my God.”

  “Actually, I prefer Carlos or Mr. Rivera.” Mr. Rivera laughed at his joke. It was a booming laugh, hearty and loud. Mr. Rivera made a dad joke and he laughed at it. Oh, wow!

  Bridger gaped, his eyes large, and he chuckled despite wanting to dive into a hole. His face radiated so much heat he could warm all the houses on the block. This was the opposite of what he wanted.

  Mr. Rivera turned and yelled into the house in Spanish. Bridger heard a thump, followed by rapid footsteps, and a string of words in Leo’s voice.

  “Papá,” Leo said, his voice a whine. “What are you doing?”