It Began at Midnight

Shailene watched Kallum thread a grungy quarter through his fingers and discreetly slip it between the cracks of the weather-worn table. Reverberations of drunken conversations almost drowned out the dull sound of the coin greeting an overly sticky floor. Almost.

Kallum did a shitty magic trick.

Shailene hated it.

She overtly rolled her eyes, joined by a performative sigh, but Shailene knew her reaction was invisible to Kallum. He was looking elsewhere. Empty palms spread wide, Kallum set his emerald eyes on Emi, wearing that stupid cap, as she joyfully clapped her hands. Hands that would momentarily be running through Kallum’s messy, white hair, pulling him close to stamp her wet reward on his lips.

Kallum and Emi were making out again.

Shailene hated that even more.

She gently placed a finger on the rim of her lightly sipped Vodka Soda and aggressively pushed in the direction of the shameless couple. Specifically, at the demon that’d spurred the vile act.

“Oh, crap—” Shailene shouted.

An unfortunate spill.

“Eeek!”

Emi recoiled as the sticky cocktail flew across the table and splattered her black and white street jacket. The real damage came from the residual liquid dripping through the table and onto her exposed legs. A few faces, curious to stranger’s troubles, turned to their group tucked in the corner of the cheap, cozy bar before returning back to drowning their sorrows with drink.

“Wow, that’s unlucky,” Quinn chimed in, just now returning from the bar with his fourth IPA of the night. His normally fishy dead eyes held a glimmer of concern that was emphasized by tucking his blonde shaggy hair back.

“Oh my God, I’m so sorry,” Shailene said. She wasn’t.

“It’s okay,” Emi said with a sincere smile. She pulled down her cap, hiding her distinct Asian features, and stood. The showy white strips in her jet black hair displayed an otherwise invisible jitter. “I’ll grab some paper towels.”

Shailene watched Emi trot off, energetic as ever, and disappear into the maze of a bar. As she did that, Quinn plopped his lanky body into a creaky wooden chair by Shailene and settled in with a light slump. She just traded one problem for another.

“What happened,” Quinn asked, placing his drink on the table.

Shailene gave the indignant boy a sweet smile, tilting her head slightly. “I spilled my drink on Emi.”

“Oh,” Quinn said. He picked up his drink and fervently began pouring it down his throat; his sharp jaw—illuminated by faint street lights through a window—steadily rose upward, climaxing with a powerful exhale.

“Whelp, time for another round,” Quinn said, adding another tally to the graveyard of drinks that had been accumulating. He pushed away from the table, in the performatively merry way of someone about to get the fifth drink of the evening, and stood up, lingering for a second to hint if anyone had requests.

“Grab me one,” Kallum said. “And a Mai Tai for Emi.”

Shailene remained silent. She longed for the day Kallum would speak up and order a Moscow mule for her, the real favorite hidden behind a calculated veil of vodka sodas—a veil only Kallum could uncover. Today was not that day.

“And another Vodka Soda for the grouch,” Quinn quipped as he retreated out of sight. Like a well-trained puppy, he follows orders well enough but still throws out a playful nip from time to time.

“A bit much,” Kallum said sternly. His tender lips formed a thin line that juxtaposed his round cheeks. Even when he was upset, Kallum’s face remained adorably soft. A blissful relief from the grungy roughness so familiar to Shailene.

“She’ll get over it,” Shailene replied. And she would. Sticky clothes would be the least of Emi’s problems tonight.

“Where’d you learn that trick?” Shailene continued, eager to get the conversation flowing. She leaned forward, placing her elbow on the sticky table and brushed a lock of hazel hair behind her ear to showcase elaborate new earrings. She would savor this moment, given the increasingly rare opportunity for them to meet alone.

“Nowhere,” Kallum said. “Myself I guess, just to keep my hands busy.” Leaning back, he draped his arms over the edges of the chair and tapped the sides along with the hum of the bar’s generic pop music. “Nice earrings, by the way,” he said casually.

Shailene let out an inner squeal. No one else could read her the way Kallum did and he proved that time and time again.

“You’re competing again?” Shailene asked rhetorically. Keeping his hands busy for Kallum means ways to keep rhythm no matter the situation; like right now. Three years ago, Shailene was blind to a song’s tempo, but now she saw the way it coursed through Kallum’s entire body. A skill he branded on her soul.

“About that…” Kallum’s voice trailed off and his head perked slightly at the sight of someone behind Shailene. The brief rendezvous between them had already come to an end.

“We’re actually competing in RF Jam this year,” Emi chimed, dragging a fist full of towels across the dripping puddle on the table, swiping it on the floor. “And, if you’re not busy at all, then I was wondering if you wanna do the Open-Style 3v3s together?”

“You still dance?” Shailene questioned, somewhat hostile, as Emi pulled her seat away from the spill and towards Kallum—chairs nearly touching.

Emi nodded as she took her seat, “Quinn too. We’ve been practicing recently.”

“Wait,” Shailene paused, gears turning. “You want me to compete with you and Quinn?” She let a drop of disdain leak into her words.

“C’mon Shailene,” Kallum said, reining her in. “It’s mostly on the weekend and you don’t have to practice. Not a huge commitment.”

“Right, let me fly halfway around the world on a month's notice just to dance for a weekend,” Shailene spat. “We’re not in freestyle club anymore guys. I have a lot going on at work…”

Shailene’s voice started to trail off. She caught an unfamiliar disappointment creeping across Kallum’s soft face mixed with the flashing police lights flying through the rainy streets of Los Angeles. It was a beautiful, striking painting that evoked a very rare emotion in Shailene. Guilt.

“Why don't you do it, Kallum? She's your girlfriend,” Shailene spat, carrying a level of sharpness that shocked her. She never did figure out how that emotion worked. This was bad. She couldn’t be making herself an enemy before midnight.

“Sorry,” Shailene retracted, “I didn’t mean for…”

“No, it’s fine,” Kallum reassured. “I could enter with them, but I wanna give breaking one last shot…”

His voice trailed off in a wistful tone. When Shailene met him at the competitive freestyle club, he was the top b-boy in the world, carrying multiple BC One world titles. That fact never changed, but neither did he. It’s lonely at the top. Shailene learned that as a child. The most devastating part is feeling like you’ve reached the end, and with nothing left to learn, the former well of passion dries up and becomes an automatic routine, devoid of emotion. It’s why Kallum was probably the only person in the world to get her.

“But, really,” Emi spoke up, pushing the weighty conversation away, “I just wanna compete with you again, Shailene. You’re made for competitions ya know? You can do everything, it’s crazy. I mean, the way you weave other styles into your hip-hop is insane.”

Emi’s pitch was steadily getting higher and higher as she spoke. “Like, casually turning some ground moves into full on breaking. You’re deceptively strong. Honestly, you could be a full fledged b-girl. I’m a little jealous…”

Now it was Emi’s turn to get all emotional. But Shailene was considerably less patient with her, “Sure, whatever. I get it. I’ll go with you guys.”

Kallum and Emi fist pumped the air in unison.

“You’re not going to randomly disappear on us either right?” Kallum chided in a playful tone, but Shailene knew it was serious.

“God, no,” she bluffed. “And foot the bill for another bar crawl? No way. Quinn alone nearly ate through two weeks' wages.”

Truthfully, Shailene didn’t know why she agreed since the trip would never happen. The demands of her work took priority. Just like it did back then and like it will tonight.

“Speaking of, where is Quinn?” Kallum asked. “It usually doesn’t take this long for drinks here.”

“Probably stun-locked by the trashy bartender with fake tits,” Shailene immediately quipped. “Why do you think he always has us come here?”

“Nah,” Emi shook her head. “Ten bucks on it being the glammed up girl hitting on guys in line outside. With the designer bag.”

“Those odds are so bad this feels like robbery,” Shailene replied.

“Then two-to-one it.”

“Deal.”

Shailene and Emi gave a light slap to each other’s palms, sealing the bet.

“I’ll go get him. Have my ten dollars ready,” Shailene said as she got up from the table. Pulling out of their alcove in the corner, she tucked around a wall to spot Quinn at the bar across the room. He was conversing with the trashy bartender.

A sadistic grin crept across Shailene’s face as she contemplated how that ten dollars would be the first of many things she would take from Emi tonight. 

-----

Kallum and Emi watched Shailene’s long, captivating stride carry her across the room. Her hair bobbed with every clack of her heeled boots and her loose blouse swayed opposite to her hips that were tightly hugged by expensive leather pants. Everything about Shailene’s character was unfathomably alluring but overwhelmingly intimidating. The moment she turned the corner, they both let their breath escape, out of sight and earshot.

“God, she’s such a bitch. I can’t stand it,” Emi grumbled timidly, as if Shailene might appear at any moment. “I don't know why I came.”

Kallum turned and adjusted the cap covering Emi’s stunningly picturesque face. At times, he wondered why she hid it so persistently under the bill of a hat. But he also knew the world wasn't a simple place, and Emi rarely talked about her family; the root of a brutal anxiety. However, Emi had grown immensely since they first got together, wrangling panic attacks into submission through long stretches of counseling. About a year ago, Shailene’s outburst would’ve jostled Emi, but now she kept composed. A surge of emotion brought Kallum’s lips to gently peck hers.

“Well, I'm glad you did,” Kallum said.

“Easy for you to say, you’re not a target. She's head over heels for you, on a clinically insane level,” Emi said. “Grippy sock insane. Someone needs to check her in.”

“Yep, she’s 100% insane, but it’s not like you to rile her up like that.”Kallum said, draping his arms back over his chair and syncing his taps with the rhythm again.

“Yeah… Well…”

He felt Emi pull lightly on his palm, and watched her turn it upward, gently brushing the nasty burn scar on Kallum's index finger that he received as a young child—back when his parents were still alive. It always seemed to hurt less when Emi touched it.

“She didn't appreciate your magic trick,” Emi said with a slightly guilty tone. “Why are you even still friends with her?”

Kallum hesitated. The answer was simple, but not virtuous. He would never say it out loud, and Emi would never want to hear it. He reveled in Shailene’s insane, primal obsession. He could murder an innocent child and she would still love him. There was no doubt that Emi’s love for Kallum, and his love for her, was genuine, but he understood it. Shailene’s, on the other hand, was cryptic. And the mystery was fascinating to him.

“She's your friend too, Emi,” Kallum said, deflecting away from dangerous territory. “You killed every duo hip-hop competition together. The two of you were so in sync it was kinda scary. That doesn’t happen by accident.”

It wasn't a lie. In fact, it was Emi who brought up competing with Shailene in 3v3s over a modest dinner in their humble one bedroom apartment.

“You two are close in a hyper-competitive way.” Kallum continued, “Like, you guys created Odds.” A drinking game that rose to popularity within their club centered around making bets.

“Sure, maybe in college, but post-grad, Shailene barely talks to me. Makes me wonder why she invited us all out today.”

“I dunno, maybe she just misses you guys. Ever consider that?”

“Nope.”

“I have returned!” Quinn boisterously exclaimed, turning the corner with the dolled-up woman from outside tucked under his free arm. The other was busy sloshing beer across the floor as it wobbly raised the glass to the ceiling. An irritated Shailene followed with an IPA, Mai Tai, and Vodka Soda held together in a triangle with both hands.

“Shailene tried to get me to leave Maddie at the bar, but I just couldn't do it.” Quinn shouted. He pulled away from the girl and bounded for the other empty seat next to Kallum. Slinking around the table, he slid next to Kallum and leaned his perversely infatuated face in, attempting to whisper.

“I'm in love, dude.”

“She’s… quite the catch,” Kallum whispered back.

Maddie slid into the same seat as Quinn, slightly pushing him to the side, and ran her grotesquely expensive looking nails across his shoulder. Her mouth was a flat, puffy line adorned with a distracting deep crimson lip gloss. Whatever conversation about to unfold must have dwarfed the excitement offered by the iPhone in her hand, held offensive close to her face that was obviously covered with the wrong shade of foundation.

Maddie wasn’t ugly by any stretch of the imagination, trashy Insta Model type look, but Kallum was a bit protective of his cousin—distant and not related by blood. Because of Quinn’s concerningly frequent romps with these types of people, he knew exactly what she wanted. It wasn’t his love.

Shailene grumpily sat down, sliding Kallum and Emi their drinks before fishing out a twenty and sliding it in Emi's direction with explicit disgust. Silently, she proceeded to chug her Vodka Soda in four large gulps—a bit out of character. Kallum noted the smug smile on Emi's face.

“Guys, this is Maddie,” Quinn said. “She's actually sober and can be our D.D. so we don't have to Uber. How nice is that?”

“It wouldn't be an outing if this fucking idiot doesn't pick up at least one gold digger,” Shailene said.

Barreling straight forward with no shame, Maddie set down her phone and asked us, “So, what do you all do for work?”

“I'm a professional dancer,” Kallum replied courteously, then gestured to Emi. “She's a med student at UCLA.”

“Oh wow, how successful,” Maddie said, raising an eyebrow.

Kallum let out an awkward chuckle and Emi nodded before adjusting the bill of her cap downward. It was an uneasy thing for Kallum to hear. Technically, he was successful by modern standards—middling income aside. A career born from a passionate hobby and an amazing girlfriend who shared his passions. Kallum was living the dream, especially considering he was orphaned as a teen. Yet, he still felt incomplete. So he brushed the discomfort off to someone else.

“Well,” Kallum said, “Shailene here is the CFO of a law firm at the age of 24.”

“Oh my God, that’s incredible! How did you manage that?” Maddie asked, turning toward the grumbling Shailene. Just like that, the three of them became the most interesting people in Maddie’s world.

Irritated by Maddie’s sudden shift in interest, Quinn chimed in, “Okay, well being a trust fund baby is actually more successful.”

Fully aware that Quinn was about to unleash a vomit of words, Kallum picked up his IPA and let the chilled amber liquid swim down his throat. Through the corner of his vision, Kallum saw Emi violently sucking the contents of her Mai Tai through her straw.

“Truth be told, I actually paid for both their tuition, so I'm kinda the reason they're successful,” Quinn rambled. “Plus, if you marry me then technically you could inherit all of our wealth cause Kallum is my cousin, and they got this whole polyamorous threesome thing going on.”

Kallum choked on his beer and Emi spat her drink through her straw with the pressure of a power washer, shooting droplets across the table. Maddie flinched as a few made their way to her cheek, evidenced by a slight smear in her foundation.

“Threesome is insane, Quinn,” Shailene said dryly. “You need to chill.”

“Whatever, just make sure you marry Kallum if you don't do the Utah Mormon shit.” Quinn continued without a hint of remorse, “Anyways, we’re about to head out. I’ll tell Maddie where to drop you guys off.” He turned to her, pointing at Shailene, “Shailene’s in Brentwood, and-”

“No!”

Shailene leaped up and cut Quinn off with a display of frantic emotion that Kallum hadn’t seen before, startling everyone, save Maddie who was unaware of this. Shailene immediately composed herself and quickly checked her phone’s display.

“There’s still so much more time left in the day,” she explained. “It’s not even midnight. Let’s go for a walk or something?”

“Shailene, it’s still raining,” Emi chided.

“Still?” Shailene asked frantically. “Maybe we can go to Kallum’s place?”

“Kallum?” Quinn asked and tugged slightly on Maddie’s hip, hinting he’d like to ‘borrow his room’.

“Ew, no. You are not doing that on my bed.” Emi retorted.

Kallum shrugged at Quinn, who rolled his eyes in response.

“Fine,” Quinn threw his hands up, “let’s just go back to my place. Queen Shailene always gets her way.”

-----

It didn’t take long to reach Quinn’s place in Culver City. Halfway between Shailene’s apartment in Brentwood, and Kallum and Emi’s apartment in Inglewood, Culver City tended to be the choice spot for outings.

Kallum stepped into the familiar, ornamental foyer that split the condo between an excessively furnished living room and the hallway that branched into master and guest bedrooms. The five slipped off their shoes and funneled into the living room—Maddie oohing and ahhing over the spacious room rarely found in Los Angeles.

Kallum and Emi immediately planted themselves on a conspicuously luxurious love seat on the other end of the room that Quinn dubbed ‘The Kami Couch’; a play on their name. He said it was a gift for the two, but Quinn insisted that it would stay in his condo.

Shailene, less acquainted with the place, took a seat on the well-used, center couch next to Kallum, scrunching her face in dissatisfaction with the substantial, yet surprisingly clean, clutter in the living room. Shelves, end tables, standing lamps, and furniture Kallum couldn’t name sprawled about the room with no apparent unifying aesthetic, aside from being clearly expensive. The space felt more like a furniture showroom than a true living room.

Quinn flopped onto the other end of the couch alongside Maddie, who basically sat in his lap and ran fingers through his hair, appearing more affectionate now that she had seen the condo. Shailene scooted away. Kallum felt an awkwardness creeping in, confused why the five were even here right now.

Shailene checked her phone once again before breaking the silence.

“Odds?” she asked.

“I’ll get the beer,” Emi said, eager to break the uncomfortable atmosphere, and got up from the Kami Couch to disappear into the kitchen.

Kallum wasn’t particularly keen on drinking more after rapidly downing his IPA before leaving the bar. However, just as Quinn mentioned earlier: Queen Shailene always gets her way. The alternative is almost never worth the headache. So, the cracking sounds of carbonation escaping aluminum cans filled the room, and the games began.

“Quinn,” Emi began, “ten-to-one you keep your grubby hands off Maddie for the next hour.”

“Whatever,” Quinn groaned while rolling his eyes, but he pulled away from Maddie.

“I’m gonna get you so fucked up now,” he threatened.

“Oh yeah?” Emi taunted back.

Sure enough Quinn followed through, and as the night marched on, Emi’s face steadily morphed into a concerningly deep crimson. Kallum had always noticed Quinn could be deceptively strong-willed when it involved Emi; the product of childhood friendship.

“Ahhhh” Emi groaned while shaking her empty can. Her burning red face was tinged with frustration; it abruptly swiveled to Kallum with a pleading look to fetch more. It had come time to cut her off. She’d just lost to Shailene, two-to-one odds, trying to guess what Quinn likes most about Maddie—having never lost a Quinn bet to Shailene before—and her biggest concern was more booze. The answer, by the way, was Maddie's feet.

“My turn,” Kallum said, ignoring Emi. “Quinn, fair odds on who Maddie thinks has the most impressive job.”

“Kallum,” Quinn shouted at Maddie, clearly accepting. The poor girl recoiled slightly. Sitting on Quinn’s lap, her ear was inches away.

“Shailene,” Kallum said.

“Bzzzt!” Maddie drunkenly made an X with her arms and pointed at Emi. “It’s her.”

The shock must’ve been visible on Kallum’s face since Maddie shrugged and said, “I dunno, I think women in medicine are pretty badass.” Perhaps she was a bit more likable than Kallum gave her credit for.

His drink nearly empty, Kallum got up from the Kami couch to grab another beer to serve the deserved punishment. Quinn shook an empty can as he did so, signaling to grab a second.

It was now Shailene’s turn

“Kallum,” she called out as he turned the corner to the bar. “You’ll like this one.”

Shailene’s voice instantly sharpened into a sinister blade that he could hear from behind the cabinets.

“Emi, one to ten thousand you’re hiding something nasty from Kallum.”

Casually, Kallum opened the fridge and grabbed two cans of Modelo. Seems like Shailene had a bit too much to drink and was starting a particularly dirty catfight. He’d cut her off, but this honestly wasn’t a novel situation.

Kallum turned the corner.

In fact, it was a novel situation. Emi’s face was frozen with unease, not the usual irritation. A cacophony of emotions ran across Shailene’s face that Kallum couldn’t even try to comprehend. Understandably, Maddie seemed caught between eager and uncomfortable with the drama that was promised to unfold. But, most concerning of all, Quinn’s face took a serious tone.

“W-what do you mean?” Kallum sputtered. “What’s going on?”

“Nothing!” Shailene cackled. “Only that your girlfriend has been lying to you for, what? Two? Three years?” Shailene turned to Kallum, her pupils dilated with mania. Kallum had never seen her like this. Ever.

“You think you know her? Cute, little UCLA med-student. Hah! Let’s ask her what she did in Japan that Summer,” She turned back toward Emi and loomed over her. The red tinge had completely drained from Emi’s face.

“What the fuck do you know about that?” Quinn shouted, aggressively leaping to his feet. Maddie covered her mouth with both hands.

“We weren’t dating then,” Kallum said, fumbling around the conversation.

“Oh, it’s way beyond that, Kallum,” Shailene snarled. “You better fess up Emi. Not much time left.” Shailene waved her phone—displaying 11:59 P.M—tauntingly in one hand and placed the other on a phallic shaped object beneath her blouse.

Emi looked like she was drowning, gasping for air.

The room felt like a hostile tundra. No one, Maddie included, spoke up, but the silence broke by the alarm on Shailene’s phone. “Bzzzt! Time’s up, Emi!” The mania in Shailene’s voice was now blended with rage.

Suddenly, a red hue glimmered in the air just in front of Kallum, spinning rapidly and accumulating in size, warping the space around as it folded into the sphere; now, a purple hue began to emerge.

“She’s a mage Kallum. She does magic. She’s been lying to you all these years! Look!”

None of that mattered.

Shailene’s words reached his ears, but Kallum couldn’t see a thing. He was somewhere else. Thirteen years in the past. Formless memories of his father burst forth from its repressed cage, deep in his memory. Frustration, elation, tedium, vitriol, and wonder were the most tangible elements within the mental stew.

The hues continued spinning rapidly, solidifying into the shape of a large purple marble, with a red, gaseous core that kept the angular momentum; just floating. The sight was otherworldly. Magical.

Memories solidified. The thousands—no, it was millions—of candles lit in that dreary basement. The burn on his hand, daring to push beyond his father’s instruction. And the sting of lashes inflicted to solidify he would never do so again. The emotional river swelled and the dam burst. Tears falling from his eyes,

“I— I thought I was the only one”

Kallum reached out and grabbed the sphere.

Reality slowly returned. And with it, a scene that carved itself deep into Kallum’s vulnerable brain: Shailene holding a revolver, finger on the trigger.

Aimed at Emi.

But the gunshot never followed. Instead, Shailene was looking at Kallum with an expression of horror, dread, and fear that only arrives from discovering the person you cherish most is gone.

The crystal clear scene melted into a blur for Kallum. Maddie fainted. Shailene fled, dropping the revolver. A shot must have gone off because the cops came later that night—a fortunate turn of events. The one thing Kallum remembered clearly was that Emi and Quinn didn’t even so much as glance in Kallum’s direction. Instead, facing each other with the same frightful face, they reached out to grab the floating, multicolored marbles.

And they started violently seizing.