Ah, Los Angeles, California. The hometown of Hollywood, the film capital of the world. All the hustle and bustle, the cars moving along on the roads and freeways in tight-knit packs, the people flocking in droves to go places, wherever they want, whenever they want. However, one of these places is where our story begins.
At Saint James Middle School, one dull, gray afternoon, two tween friends in their respective school uniforms; one, a girl with short, shiny black hair with a green barrette on the left side, who wore a small crest that read SJMS on her gray hoodie, and a bigger one on the back, a green skirt, white socks, and brown shoes, and the other, a boy with a flaming red mullet with bangs that were parted from the right side of his head to the left, and green eyes, who wore the same crest on the center of his shirt with a yellow collar, dark tan capri pants, gray dress socks, and shiny black loafers, and a dark gray tweed collarless jacket, were walking down the hall to lunch, when the boy suddenly broke away from the other, telling her "I'll be back." Before she could respond, he started walking hastily in the other direction, and she instinctively followed him from behind.
Down the hall, a fair-skinned girl with light skin and ginger hair braided into pigtails, freckles, and a gap in her top teeth that wore a backward-facing purple baseball cap, a blue hoodie, and a salmon-pink skirt, white boots with black soles and thigh-length dark brown socks, and a mahogany backpack. Her hoodie also had an SJMS crest, and she was looking behind to see if anyone was watching, but no teachers or other faculty were in sight, so she decided this was it. She was going to have a go for the teacher's lounge, which was empty and dark, and see if there was good food in the teacher's fridge to snag for herself.
"Hey!" said a voice. The ginger-haired girl spun fast to see a red-haired boy in a dark gray tweed collarless jacket and yellow-collared uniform and a Taiwanese girl behind him with a hoodie and green skirt coming her way. "What do you think you're doing?" The boy asked reproachfully. "It's none of your business, Bernstein." said the ginger girl rudely.
"It's BURNSTEAD, Maggie. How would you like it if she called you 'Margot'? You wouldn't, would you?" The boy scolded.
"Who cares? It's not like Boobchuy would care if she saw me go in there."
"Don't call her that!" Said the boy. "Now unless you want me to get Sasha to ban you from the party she's hosting next week, Maggie, I suggest you get away from the teacher's lounge and get to lunch."
Maggie stammered angrily before grumbling and walking away.
"OMG, you handled that SO well, Georgie!" said the Taiwanese girl ecstatically upon seeing her walk away. "Truly savage."
"I wouldn't say that..." George chuckled. "So, you got any plans after school, Marcy?"
"Well, I got an SAT coming up, so I'll be at the library unless there's something else going on," Marcy responded. "What about you?"
"Ehh, nothing really." George sighed. "I guess I'll just be in my room, just thinking... or going on my usual afternoon walk around the hood... and that's really about it..."
"Okay, if something comes up, I'll let you know, Georgie." Said Marcy, getting on her way. "Byeeeee!"
"Buh-bye." George waved sadly. He went on his way to where his next class would be, wondering where their other two friends were now, thinking they were off doing something stupid.
Later that afternoon, in a public library, Marcy was studying for an SAT, as she said she would be when her phone buzzed, and she read the text. It said "Stop studying ya nerd" "IT'S ANNE'S BDAY!" "MEET US DOWNTOWN"
"Anne's birthday! I almost forgot!" Marcy gasped. She quickly sent a text back saying "I'll be right there" before sending a reminder text to George, picking up her bag to pack it, and then noticing a book fall off the librarian's cart.
"Uh, excuse me, ma'am, you dropped your... book?"
Marcy looked at the book, of which the title read "Dr. P's Extraordinary Guide To Magic Mystery," and opened the book to flip through the pages. She stopped at the pages of a gargoyle and a triangular being with one eye. Marcy was impressed by seeing the pages. Then she flipped the pages again until she stopped flipping, the next page showed a music box before she looked stunned.
"Whoa! "Calamity Box?" "Travel to other worlds?""
Marcy read the book carefully about the music box, having a fascination, but alas, this was different. Looking at it, she started to wonder how it operated but just shrugged instead.
"Hah! Goofy stuff. Cool artwork, though."
She uses her phone to take a picture from the page before putting her hood on top of her head and exiting the library.
In a tight-knit neighborhood beneath the cloudy sky, George was walking down the street near a bookstore that he walked into, and then looked at one book in particular to curb his boredom, "Dr. P's Extraordinary Guide To Magic Mystery" and scrolling through pages and found the page talking about the Calamity Box. His eyes widened.
"Fascinating," he whispered when his phone buzzed. He pulled it out of his pocket and looked. The text reads, "OLD MAN: Get back here immediately. Do not be late."
George sighed in annoyance, shook his head, closed the book, put it back down, and set a course for his house quickly.
"Hey, kid, wait!" said the cashier before he walked out the door. "You forgot your book!" George hesitated. He didn't want to be late for what was going on at home but decided he would take it, still fascinated by the Calamity Box. He handed some cash to the cashier, set off with the book in his arms, and then stuffed it in his bag as he now ran for home.
His home was a small white house with a red synthetic Spanish-style roof, and he walked in, catching his breath. A station wagon was parked outside at the curb. His parents looked at him seriously in the living room, which was never a good sign to him.
"What is this?" he asked disinterestedly.
"Sit down." said his old man coldly. George never liked that tone of voice but reluctantly did so.
"I've got a bad feeling about this..." he thought.
"Do you know what this means, George?" his mother asked.
"Let me guess..." George insisted. "You're mad at me. What did I do? Did my standing up for someone get to you?"
"No," said George's father. "We're going away."
"What?" George gasped audibly. "It's only been two years since we moved here. We can't go now."
"You've done this before, you can do it again." his mother implored.
"No. I'm tired of moving. I love it here. I love my school. My friends are close to me. It isn't fair!" George stood up, starting to get angrier.
"Life isn't fair, boy!" growled his father. "We're moving for our sake. That's life!"
"I'm not going anywhere!" George shouted, starting to shake all over. "I'm tired of moving! We've done this like ten times already and every house we move to is never good enough for you! I'm not doing this!"
"Are you sassing us, you ungrateful brat?!" scolded the mother. "You don't have a choice! We're moving in a week and that's final!" Well, that did it for George. Tears welled up in his eyes, but his anger was powerful too.
"You are ruining my life!" George screamed, grabbing his backpack and kicking the door open. "I HATE YOU!" He hopped onto his bike and rode out into town.
"Get back in here, you!" his old man yelled, but George refused to relent. "GEORGE FREDERICK BURNSTEAD, GET BACK HERE RIGHT NOW! However, it was too late. George had disowned his old man and lady and was speeding ragingly into downtown Los Angeles.
Marcy was walking next to a thrift store, the sign reading "THRIFT STOP", she was deep in thought when a voice cried out nearby.
"MARCY!" It was George, trying to pull the brakes on his bike, suddenly stopping only before falling off and knocking Marcy accidentally to the ground.
She got up and was angrily ready to talk down to him, until realizing he was crying when he looked up, Marcy's phone buzzed again. This time, Sasha texted again. This time, the text said, "WHERE ARE YOU?!" As she was about to respond, George looked into the window of the thrift store nearby, seeing a small golden chest with a few gems on it, recognizing it from the book he read on his way to his old man's house.
"It's perfect..." he said, wiping his tears. Marcy looked at him confusedly.
"What are you looking at?" She asked.
"I wanna buy that chest for Anne's birthday present," he said quickly. She looked through the window and recognized it.
"It's even prettier than I thought," the Taiwanese girl mused but started feeling suddenly skeptical. "Are you sure? It looks kinda dangerous."
"Just go and meet up with the others." He said, calming down slowly. "I'll meet you there."
"Well, okay..." she said a little uneasily. She put the hood of her jacket back on her head and set off to find her friends while George walked into the thrift store, where the music box sat on top of a cabinet. He reached up, jumped a bit to grab it, and successfully took it. He was mesmerized by the beauty of the box. Maybe something valuable was inside. He checked his wallet, thinking he may have enough, and quietly went to the counter, where the lady was sleeping on the job. He tapped the counter with his knuckle, waking her.
"I-I'd like to buy this, please," George spoke hesitantly, pulling some cash from his wallet. He gave her the money, and it was over. He had paid for something the second time today. "Th-thank you," he said and went on his way, stuffing the box into his pack, hopping onto his bike, and riding away hastily.
That evening, Marcy stood with a Thai-American teenage girl with dark brown eyes, a slender build, light brown skin, and messy auburn hair. She is noticeably taller than Marcy and wears a gray t-shirt with a purple collar and an SJMS crest embroidered on the front, a purple skirt, a pair of yellow sneakers with white lining, and gray socks. The other girl, a German-Slavic American teenage girl, had blonde hair tied in a ponytail with a long bang parted to the right side of her head, a beauty mark underneath her left eye, and almond-shaped blue eyes, was taller than the Thai girl and wore a schoolgirl uniform that consists of a light grey shirt with a pink collar and an SJMS crest, a dark blue jean jacket, a short pink skirt, white socks, and a pair of black Mary Jane shoes with small heels as well as a purple scrunchie in her ponytail.
They stood in a playground, where it was rather dark, but some lights are on, and the blonde girl, Sasha, paced around anxiously while the Thai girl, Anne, sat on the bench, wondering.
"Ohhh, where is he?" Sasha complained.
"Anna-Banana," Marcy told her Thai friend, "Georgie's coming. He should be here right about now, actually, and he wants to say something before we go home."
"What would he want to tell us?" Anne asked. "He's not usually one to tell us anything unless we pried deeper."
That's when George pulled up on his bike with his backpack on his shoulders and hopped off his bike, and unhooked his backpack.
"Happy Birthday, Anne!" He said, pulling a fake smile on his face.
"Georgie!" Marcy beamed. "You made it!"
"What took you so long?" Sasha questioned.
"Don't ask." George sighed, not wanting to talk about it this minute.
"Well, Marbles told us you wanted to say something." Anne insisted.
"Forget it, Annelise." George unzipped his backpack and pulled out his present for Anne. "I'll tell you later, alright? Let's not spoil your special day. I bought this for you. It's some sort of ancient music box of sorts."
Marcy stared uneasily as he handed it to her.
"Wow," Anne gasped. "It sure is pretty. I wonder what's in it?"
"Something valuable, maybe?" George suggested, smiling shakily.
"We could sell what's in it and we'll be rich, rich, rich!" Sasha exclaimed.
"Pretty cool, huh?" Anne agreed.
She slowly opened the small box, and suddenly, a small light appeared from inside. The four tweens looked at the light in shock, and suddenly, the light got bigger and brighter, they all averted their eyes, and in an even brighter flash, the four tweens and the box had vanished, leaving the barely lit playground unoccupied, and the neighborhood still as quiet.
Where were they now?