The Rules and Regulations for Mediating Myths & Magic

by F. T. Lukens

  School, too, had become interesting. Leo continued to join Bridger, Astrid, and the field hockey team at lunch, and Bridger managed to not embarrass himself. They talked and flirted, and it was awesome, though Homecoming was not brought up again, which was probably for the best since Leo was destined to be Homecoming king.

  But because of Leo, Bridger had an actual social life. He still hung out with Astrid whenever she was available, but he also had invitations to other activities from Leo’s group of friends. He had only attended one so far, an after-school study session, but it had been fun. It was different and cool.

  “Hey,” Leo said, jogging to catch up to Bridger between classes.

  “Hey.” Bridger opened his locker and exchanged notebooks. “What’s up?”

  “A bunch of us are going to the movies tonight,” Leo said, hands in his pockets. “Do you want to come?”

  Bridger dropped his books. All of them. Every single one fell into a heap at his feet.

  “Uh,” he said, falling to his knees to grab them. He shoved them into his bag; his brain vacillated between terror and joy. His sympathetic nervous system was on full alert, waiting to respond at the slightest hint of whether to freeze or run.

  Leo knelt next to him and helped Bridger gather his books. His body was so close; his warmth was tangible; his brown eyes shone with mirth; his scent filled Bridger’s head.

  “What—” Bridger cleared his throat. “What movie?”

  “I don’t know. Some horror thing. But since Coach let us off practice today, a bunch of us are going. I thought it’d be fun if you came along and shared my popcorn.”

  “Oh,” Bridger said. His throat was tight, and he couldn’t keep the loopy smile from his face. He imagined sitting in a dark theater next to Leo and grabbing his hand during a particularly frightening scene. His pulse raced. “That would be great. Awesome even. I’d love to.”

  Leo grinned, nervously. “Awesome.”

  “Awesome,” Bridger said. He stood and hit his head on his locker door. Of course. He winced. “Ow. Crap.”

  “Are you okay?” Leo asked, chuckling softly. He stood and checked the spot where Bridger nailed his head. “You are a disaster.”

  “I totally am.” Bridger pressed his palm against the sore spot. At least it wasn’t bleeding, but there would be a bump. “It’s a miracle I made it to seventeen.”

  “Clearly.” Leo nodded. “Still okay for tonight, though?”

  “Yeah, yeah…” Bridger trailed off when he saw a few of the field hockey girls waltz by wearing their uniforms. It sparked Bridger’s memory, and his stomach sank to his knees. “Oh, oh, no. Wait. It’s the girls’ first home game tonight. I have to go. I always go. It’s my thing with Astrid.”

  Leo’s shoulders slumped and he frowned. “Oh,” he said, sounding timid, and Bridger’s heart skipped. “Okay. Another time then.”

  “Yes, another time! I’m serious. Leo, if I didn’t already have this planned, I would totally share your popcorn. And even pay the exorbitant price for M&Ms or Twizzlers at the theater and not try to sneak them in.”

  Leo’s smile seemed tight and disappointed but genuine. “I know, Bridge. Have a good time and tell Astrid I say hi.”

  “I will!” That was too enthusiastic. That was over the top and not the correct inflection to throw at someone he’d turned down. Crap. Shit. Crap.

  Leo walked away, his bag slung over his shoulder, and joined his group of friends. They enveloped him, throwing their arms over his shoulders. Zeke glared at Bridger on their way down the hall and shook his head as if Bridger had kicked a puppy.

  Bridger had kicked a puppy.

  “That looked intense,” Astrid said, coming to stand next to him. “What was that about?”

  Dazed, Bridger answered, voice flat. “I think Leo asked me on a date.”

  Astrid dropped her books. Unlike Bridger, she didn’t dive to pick them up. She left them on the floor. “What do you mean? For when? What did you say? What did you do?”

  “It was for tonight.”

  Her enthusiasm dimmed. “But tonight is our first home game.” She said it quietly, questioning, as though she was expecting Bridger to have accepted, as if she was preparing for disappointment.

  It hurt that she thought so little of him, of his investment in their friendship. “I know, so I turned him down.”

  Astrid’s hands flew to her mouth. “Oh, my God, Bridge, did you at least invite him to come to the game with you?”

  Bridger didn’t know that dejected horror was an actual feeling until it washed over him. His stomach churned. “Was I supposed to?”

  Astrid slapped the back of his head. “Yes!”

  “Ow! Why would you do that?”

  “Because you’re an idiot! Why didn’t you invite him to come with you to the game?”

  “I didn’t know!” Bridger flailed his arms. “Would you be okay with that?”

  She cast an absolutely affronted expression at him, even going as far as pressing her hand to her chest. “Of course! As long as you’re there, I don’t care who is with you!”

  “Well, I know that now!”

  “Why are we yelling?”

  “It seemed like the thing to do!”

  Astrid gripped his shoulders. “Okay, take a breath.”

  Bridger inhaled sharply and choked. He coughed and sputtered, bent over, and covered his face with his hands. Astrid slapped him hard on the back.

  “Stop hitting me,” he said, voice muffled.

  “Stop freaking out.”

  Bridger straightened and let out his breath slowly. Astrid’s grip reassured him, and he sucked in another breath and blew it out.

  “Okay, okay. I’m good. I’m not yelling.”

  “Me neither. Okay. So we can think this through.”

  “I should text him.”

  “Yes, good plan. After school.”

  He nodded. Yes. He should text Leo and ask him to the game. Like a date. No, like a friend thing? Like with friends? Except, Bridger’s friends would be on the field, and Leo’s friends would be at the movies. So it would be a date-like situation.

  Was he ready for that? Could he do that?

  Bridger couldn’t focus during his last class of the day. He would not be able to recount the lecture if his life depended on it. When the bell rang, Bridger was off like a shot. He jogged down the hall, fled outside, and jumped down the steps to the sidewalk. He pulled his phone from his pocket and started a text, but stopped.

  He typed, then erased, and typed again.

  And stopped.

  This was a huge step. This was too close to admitting things and confirming feelings and being public about it.

  No, he was not ready to do this. He wasn’t. Flirting was one thing. Dating was another.

  He turned off his phone.

  Bridger convinced himself it was a good thing that Leo wasn’t at the field hockey game. For one, the bleachers were absolutely packed, and he had only managed to squeeze in next to Astrid’s parents. Her father and stepmother smiled when Bridger joined them and handed him a handmade sign proudly proclaiming in glitter that #15 was the best ever. For two, Bridger didn’t want to answer any awkward questions about who Leo was. Of course, Bridger could say friend, but would that jeopardize the possibility of Leo being his date at a later juncture? Or if he said date, then would that shock Astrid’s parents? Did Bridger really want to be out to anyone who was within hearing distance when he was only beginning to understand himself?

  Yikes! Maybe he’d dodged a bullet.

  A darkened theater was one thing, but at a widely-attended field hockey game with his best friend’s parents right there was another. Bridger had been the subject of rumors once this semester and he had firsthand experience about how distorted the facts could become.

  Talk about pressur
e.

  Lastly, Bridger would be so worried about the impression he made on Leo, he wouldn’t enjoy the game. And he couldn’t yell at the top of his lungs and cheer Astrid on, which was their tradition.

  Glitter falling in his hair, Bridger wildly waved the sign as Astrid and the team took the field. Astrid played sweeper and was one of the district’s best defensive players. She grinned around her mouth guard when she saw Bridger and her parents and winked. He gave her a thumbs-up, and she laughed, shaking her head.

  Then the game was on.

  The other team was good, and it quickly became apparent the teams were evenly matched. The ball flew down the grass, and Astrid used her powerful hit to propel the ball away from their goal. Hunks of field flew everywhere as cleats dug into the ground. Girls collided. Whistles blew. Astrid was instrumental in a penalty corner but the shot sailed wide. The game was fast and furious, and after the first few minutes both teams were winded.

  Bridger’s throat was dry and he handed his sign to Astrid’s mom, then hopping down to go to the snack stand. While standing in line for a bottle of pop, the pocket of his hoodie began to vibrate and glow. His phone was in his jeans pocket. The screech of the mirror rang out.

  Crap.

  Bridger abandoned his place in line and walked briskly to the parking lot. The day had begun to darken toward twilight—at halftime the field lights would switch on—but until then the fall gloom afforded a modicum of cover. Bridger ducked near Astrid’s car, looked around furtively, then pulled out the compact and flipped it open.

  “I swear if this is another butter emergency—”

  “It’s not,” Pavel said. “I need your help.” He was more disheveled than usual. His chest heaved, and a thin line of blood oozed from a cut across his cheekbone.

  “Oh, right now?” Bridger looked toward the field. A cheer had gone up from the crowd. One of the teams had scored. “I’m kind of in the middle of something.”

  “Yes, right now.” His voice was clipped and strained. Pavel was freaked, and alarm bells went off in Bridger’s brain.

  This was it. This was his chance. His first myth assignment. His first step toward knowing and experiencing and wearing his own wistful expression at the magic of it all. Yes! He was ready. Bring it on!

  He nodded, adrenaline and excitement flooding through him. “Okay, what do you need?”

  “Are you a virgin?”

  Bridger sputtered. “What the hell, man? What kind of question is that?”

  Pavel talked over him. “I don’t have time for fake outrage over a state of being, Bridger. Either you are or you’re not. I need to know. It’s important.”

  “Well, uh,” Bridger ran a hand through his hair. He looked around again and lowered his voice. “Yeah. I am. So?”

  Pavel was visibly relieved. “Wonderful. Have you read the book?”

  “Uh—” Bridger shrugged “—parts of it?” At Pavel’s disapproving expression, Bridger shot back. “I have school work! Reading a technical guide on proper ways to handle batutut fur is not high on my list of priorities right now.”

  “You’ve only gotten to B?” Pavel’s voice went high.

  “What does any of this have to do with being a virgin?”

  “Do you have the book?”

  Bridger sighed. “It’s at home.”

  “You should always carry it with you.”

  “Thanks for telling me now! That would have been great information to give me when you gave me the thing. Also, you said it was fragile, so I didn’t think lugging it around in my backpack was a good idea.”

  Pavel rubbed his eyes. “Fine. Fine. There is a rampaging unicorn.”

  “A rampaging unicorn… How do you even know that?”

  Pavel rubbed his brow. “The toaster started acting up again, and then the images came and—”

  “Your magical crisis alarm is a toaster?”

  “Yes.” He said it as though it was a common fact. “I tracked the unicorn to the planned community near the bookstore.”

  “Lake Commons?”

  “Yes, there.”

  Oh, great. The Commons was a popular hangout and a huge commercial area.

  “I’m at school. I don’t have a way to get there quickly.”

  Pavel wiped his sleeve over the cut, smearing blood across his cheek. “I’ll pick you up.”

  “No!” Bridger said, remembering Pavel’s mode of transportation. “No, thank you. I will… run down the street and meet you on the corner near Oak Street. I’m leaving now.”

  Pavel nodded. “Hurry. I’ll swing by.”

  Bridger took off. He ran through the parking lot and around the side of the school. His backpack was locked in Astrid’s car, since she was his ride, but he’d have to worry about that later. He at least had his wallet, phone, keys, and mysterious magic mirror.

  He jogged parallel to the school entrance and crossed the street at the next intersection. The streetlights flicked on as the sky darkened. Bridger skidded to a stop at the corner of Oak Street in time to hear the gunshot-sound of Pavel’s car pulling up next to him.

  Bridger grabbed the door as the car continued to roll, pulled it open, and jumped in. It was very primetime cop show, and Bridger was mildly proud he didn’t trip and fall.

  Once inside, Pavel tossed a mirror at Bridger. “Talk to them,” he said.

  Bridger looked, and Bran and Nia stared back at him.

  “I can’t believe you haven’t read all of the book!” Nia said, her voice shrill. She pointed a finger at him and glitter puffed from her fingertip. “It’s important information.”

  Arms crossed, Bran shook his head, and his blue hair swept across his forehead. “We were rooting for you.”

  “Not helping,” Pavel yelled. He took a corner at an ill-advised speed, and Bridger flew into the door hard, and the car rattled around them. He grabbed the seat belt and clicked it into place, not sure it would help him if they did get into an accident, since Pavel’s car was literally a death trap.

  “Dude, arrive alive, okay?”

  “Read him the passage,” Pavel said, ignoring Bridger.

  Nia flew to a huge book propped open on a table, and Bridger recognized the library. She hovered over the pages while Bran tried to support the mirror. If Pavel’s driving didn’t make him sick, then Bran’s inability to hold the mirror steady would.

  Nia cleared her throat. “Unicorns are solitary creatures who dwell in forests and woods. They do not emerge often. They do not suffer humans and rarely interact with other magical beings unless of a similar breed. They’re proud and don’t like to be treated like common beasts. Sightings are rare, but the few reports that exist of encounters with them state that they are docile creatures unless disrespected. Legends say unicorns are drawn to purity and maidens were often used as bait to lure unicorns out of hiding to be hunted.”

  “Maidens?” Bridger stared at Pavel. “I’m a virgin, but I am definitely not a maiden.”

  “You’re the closest we have.”

  “What if it gets pissed off that I’m not a maiden? What if I accidentally show disrespect? News flash, I don’t actually want to die a virgin.”

  Pavel adjusted his grip on the steering wheel. Eyes squinted, black hair in disarray, he bent forward to stare out the windshield. “There!” he yelled, before jerking hard on the wheel. The car skidded and shook, and Bridger braced his legs and arms to keep from falling out of the door. Pavel slammed on the brakes, and the car slid halfway onto a sidewalk and into a green space on the outskirts of the Commons.

  He turned off the engine and jumped out before Bridger could right himself.

  Bridger heaved a breath, unbuckled, and opened the door.

  “Wait! Wait!” Nia’s voice was tinny. Bridger found the mirror under the seat.

  “What?”

  “Unicorns d
on’t like humans. At all. It’s one of the few creatures that an intermediary’s magic cannot effect since it is purely magical.”

  “So… what does that mean for me?”

  “Don’t do anything stupid.”

  Bridger nodded. “Stupid? Me? Surely you jest.” At Nia’s unimpressed expression, Bridger shot double finger guns. “Nothing stupid. Got it.” He slid out of the car then started to close the mirror.

  “Wait, wait!”

  Bridger sighed. “What?”

  “Are you guys near that coffee shop? The one with the caramel cookies?”

  Bridger snapped the mirror shut.

  Once Bridger slammed the door, Pavel threw a handful of glittery dust over the hood. The car shimmered, then slowly blended into the background.

  “Handy,” Bridger said. “Do you always keep pixie dust in your pocket?”

  “Yes. Of course. Parking tickets,” he added by way of explanation.

  “Ah.”

  “Come on.” Pavel strode off, and Bridger followed. Pavel pointed at the sidewalk. “Do you see the shimmer?”

  Bridger squinted and stared at nothing and… wait, yeah, he did see it. It was a gleam on the concrete, not as overtly sparkly as pixie dust, but like oil on the surface of a puddle. And the more Bridger paid attention, the more he could see the obvious path where the unicorn had run.

  “That’s amazing.”

  Pavel raised an eyebrow, and the corner of his mouth lifted. “Yes, it is. But unicorns don’t belong in the Commons. We need to lead it out and back to the forest.”

  “And I’m the bait?”

  Pavel winced. “I wouldn’t quite put it that way.”

  “Don’t worry.” Bridger smiled. He rubbed his hands together. “Let’s lure a unicorn.”

  “We’ll split up. I’ll circle around and try to drive it your way. It will sense my magic and want to steer clear of it. If you see it, summon your most maidenly thoughts, coax it toward you, and call me on the mirror.”