Magic at Midnight

by Lyssa Chiavari

  I hurried to catch up with my friends.

  ♛

  The site of our midnight dances was a clearing deep in the woods, the surrounding trees tall enough to give us a canopy of leaves.

  “Let’s get set up,” directed Anna, fanning herself. “Delia, cool us off first, would you?”

  Delia obliged, taking a deep breath and exhaling through pursed lips. The mugginess was replaced by air fresh and crisp, and tiny snowflakes floated from the sky, sparkling in the moonlight.

  Katti opened the box she was holding and, with a wave of her hand, sent strings of twinkle lights floating up to the tree branches. Eva pointed at them, shooting a sizzle of electricity from her finger. The lights flickered on, bathing the area in soft light.

  Ginger popped in, literally, at the center of the clearing, then wobbled as she steadied herself. Teleporting always made her dizzy. “Sorry I’m late,” she giggled.

  Carmen stood at the edge of the clearing and gave a soft whistle. Moments later, four great gray owls fluttered onto her outstretched arms. She cooed gently at them, and they flew off again, following her command to circle the clearing, guarding the path and the surrounding area.

  In the center, Belinda spread her arms and turned in a slow circle, giving us another layer of protection by creating a soundproof force field around us. Using our powers anywhere but in the Lab or in our own homes was forbidden. Even in the middle of the woods, in the middle of the night. But now, not even the Lab would hear us. We were ready to dance.

  The twelve of us gathered in the center, our dresses of every color glimmering under the twinkle lights and the stars, snowflakes cooling our skin. Eva zapped power into tiny speakers we’d camouflaged in the trees, and soon music played. Soft and delicate at first, then louder, faster, urgent.

  Lithe and graceful, Josephine started dancing first. As she twirled, she touched each of us on our shoulders, infusing us with joy, injecting us with giddiness, making our feet tap in rhythm, even mine, which usually couldn’t keep a beat.

  Our feet pounded, our arms swayed, our dresses swirled. We twirled and leapt and sang and laughed. We were young, we were free, we were powerful, and most of all, we were friends.

  We danced until our feet ached, our ears buzzed, and the moon dipped low, but we didn’t stop. We twirled and swirled and—

  Hoo, hoo.

  “The owls!” Carmen cried.

  Everyone froze. The music stopped, the twinkle lights went dark, the snow melted. Anna rushed to the owls, the rest of us following close behind. The owls stood on the path in a circle, hooting and squawking, their wings spread wide.

  Caged by the owls, eyes wide, mouth open in shock, was a boy.

  He had seen everything.

  His face was shadowed under his long, dark hair, but I recognized him by his height and broad shoulders. “That’s Michael,” I said. “From school. He works at Hawthorne’s every morning.”

  “He writes for the school paper,” said Hedda.

  “He’s the one who exposed those kids for cheating on the SATs last year,” said Josephine.

  “He’s terrified,” squeaked Fanny, her hands over her heart. “He’s trying not to show it, but I can feel it.”

  “He’s neutral,” said Anna. Neutrals had no psychic abilities. They were powerless. But they were also dangerous because if a neutral found out about us, they could expose us.

  “What do you mean, I’m neutral?” asked Michael. “What’s that?”

  Anna didn’t answer. Instead she smiled at him and asked pleasantly, “What are you doing out here?”

  Michael shrugged innocently. “Just... taking a walk.”

  “You were taking a walk, in the woods, in the middle of the night?”

  “Yep.” For some reason, his gaze settled on me.

  “Oh, no, he’s hurt,” said Fanny, rubbing her head. “An owl must have scratched him.” Indeed, Michael shook the hair from his face, revealing blood on his forehead.

  “I’ll heal him,” said Hedda, immediately stepping forward.

  Anna held her back. “Michael, tell us what you saw.”

  “I told you, I didn’t see anything,” said Michael. “I took on a few night shifts at Hawthorne’s, and tonight after my shift I went for a walk to clear my head.” He backed away, but at Carmen’s silent command, the owls lifted their wings, trapping him again.

  “He’s so scared,” whimpered Fanny. “Michael, you don’t have to be afraid of us. We won’t hurt you.”

  “Yes he does,” said Anna with a smile, “and yes we will, if he doesn’t tell us what he knows.”

  “He’s hurt, Anna,” insisted Hedda. “You have to let me heal him.”

  Anna sighed. “Fine. Carmen, tell the owls to stand down.”

  Carmen directed the owls back up to the trees, and Hedda stepped forward. She murmured comforting sounds and placed her hand lightly over his wound. He jerked away from her.

  “It’s okay, Michael,” I said, catching his gaze. “Let her heal you. It’s what she does.”

  I kept my eyes locked on his, keeping him calm as Hedda healed him. Many of us had lived in Lilybrook our whole lives because our parents had been recruited by the Lab. Some of our families, like Anna’s and Belinda’s, had lived here for generations. But Michael had moved here right before our freshman year of high school, with no association to the Lab. I didn’t know much about him, other than that he was on the school paper and he took all the Advanced Placement classes. He had a small group of friends, all neutrals. The only time our paths crossed was when I stopped at Hawthorne’s to get breakfast. He always grunted a bored good-morning-can-I-help-you greeting as I decided what to order.

  And now that I was spending so long looking into his eyes as Hedda worked on him, I noticed how dark they were, how expressive. I didn’t need Fanny’s psionic empathy to know he was bewildered—and afraid.

  I offered him a smile, hoping it would help, a little.

  “There, all better,” cooed Hedda. She dabbed off the blood with a leaf. “The cut is all healed. And don’t worry, you won’t have a scar.”

  He scuttled away from her, but Anna stopped him. “Stay where you are, please,” she said sweetly. “If you move a muscle, we’ll have to bring the owls back.”

  He swallowed hard, his eyes darting up to the trees.

  “Isadora,” said Anna. “Will you please tell us what he knows?”

  Tiny Isadora stepped over and, standing on her tiptoes, placed her fingertips on Michael’s temples. “He saw everything,” said Isadora, reading his mind. “He followed us all the way down the path and watched us the entire time.”

  “How are you doing all this?” asked Michael. “Reading my mind, healing me. The music, the lights. The snow. The birds. How is that possible?”

  Once again Anna ignored his question. “Where’s your phone?” she asked. “Did you take pictures? Video?”

  Michael looked at us one by one. “The science lab,” he said. “All of you have parents who work there. I’ve seen you all going in and out of that place.” He crossed his arms. “It’s not a regular science lab, is it?”

  Isadora put her fingertips back to his temples, then jerked away like she’d been burned. “He wants to write about us,” she cried. “Not just for the school paper, either. He wants to expose us and the Lab to get a journalism scholarship. He took a video and he’s going to post it online as proof!”

  No. No, no, no, that could not happen. Michael could not release that video. I didn’t know a lot of what happened at the Lab. It was run by very important, powerful people, and most of what they did was classified. But I did know one thing for sure: If Michael released that video, the Lab would be shut down, and everyone with special powers would be locked up. Experimented on. Weaponized. Neutralized.

  We could not let that happen.

  “Where’s your phone, Michael?” asked Anna.

  “In his pocket,” answered Isadora.

  “Give it to me,” said Eva. A
bolt sizzled from her fingertip. “I’ll fry it.”

  “No.” Anna sighed. “I’ll take care of it.”

  Katti wiggled her fingers at Michael’s jeans, and his phone rose from the pocket. “Hey!” he shouted. He grabbed for it, but it zipped away.

  Anna caught it and rubbed it between her palms. When she separated her hands, the phone was gone.

  Michael’s eyes went wide again. “Where’d it go? What did you do to it?”

  “I banished it,” said Anna, shrugging. “It’s gone. Forever. It no longer exists. We’re under a force field, so your video wasn’t transmitted to the cloud. But banishing your phone was the only way to ensure that video was completely destroyed. I’m sorry, Michael, but it had to be done. And so does this.” She turned to me. “Lila, you know what you need to do.”

  I nodded, hoping the girls would assume the sweat on the back of my neck was caused by the heat, not by my nerves. I could do this. I had to do it. I’d done it plenty of times in the testing room at the Lab, and my dad had made me practice until I was as skilled at it as he was. I’d never done it on someone who wasn’t a volunteer, but it was the only way to save the Lab. This was my big chance to impress my friends, to cement my place in the group.

  Please don’t let me mess it up.

  I stepped over to Michael. He backed away. “What are you going to do?”

  “It won’t hurt, I promise.” I tried to hide my anxiety as I took his hand between both of mine. His hand was rough, warm, strong, and I held it tight.

  I closed my eyes.

  Concentrated. Pushed.

  Entered his mind.

  Then I shuffled through his memories, from the moment he left Hawthorne’s that night.

  Michael’s memories flowed into my mind, one after another, filling my head, making me warm, making my heart pound.

  ♛

  Leaving the diner a few minutes before midnight, exhausted after a long day, knowing he still needs a story to get that journalism scholarship.

  Seeing something move in the shadows in the alley across the street. His heart stopping when he recognizes Lila. She comes to Hawthorne’s in the mornings and takes forever to decide what to get, then ends up ordering the same thing she always does: a small vanilla latte with extra sugar and a blueberry pie pocket to go, please.

  Smiling at the thought. For the past three years she’s been doing that, almost every morning. She’s got the longest, thickest eyelashes he’s ever seen.

  Wondering what she’s doing out in the middle of the night, rushing through the alley, looking over her shoulder, wearing a party dress. Wondering if she’s in trouble. Deciding he’d better make sure she gets home safe.

  Trailing her as she creeps along the shadows. Feeling surprised when she meets a bunch of girls at the edge of the woods. They’re all dressed up too. Fancy dresses, fancy hair, fancy shoes. Those are the girls who go to that science lab in the mornings. He hadn’t realized Lila was friends with them.

  Knowing that whatever she’s doing, she’s safe now. Knowing he should go home and work on his application. Curiosity compelling him onward.

  Following the girls as they dash into the woods. Observing as they fall completely silent when they tiptoe past the science lab.

  Freezing when he breaks the silence by stepping on a twig. Cursing himself when Lila whisper-shouts into the woods, asking if anyone is there.

  Following the girls deeper, to a clearing. Slipping behind a tree, hiding.

  Shivering when one girl exhales, the air suddenly cooling. Gasping at snowflakes falling. Watching with disbelief when strings of light float up to the trees, all by themselves.

  Knowing this can’t be real. Can it?

  Suppressing another gasp as a girl whistles, and four owls fly from the trees and land on her arms. She whistles again, and the birds fly off on her command.

  Realizing these girls must be witches, or aliens, or paranormal superpower mutants. Things he reads about in books and watches on TV but never before believed are real.

  Sliding his phone out from his pocket.

  Aiming the camera.

  Clicking the record button.

  Thinking, pondering, mind whirring, making connections. All these girls have parents who work at that science lab. The exterior of the building is old, small, and uninteresting. Ugly, even. But it all must be camouflaging a fascinating interior.

  Knowing this is bigger than anything he’s written for the school paper. He needs to figure out how to get inside the science lab, and then he’s going to go wide with the story. This will get him that journalism scholarship.

  Focusing his camera on the girls dancing giddily in the moonlight.

  Capturing each of the girls in turn, one by one, as they do something extraordinary.

  Lingering his camera on Lila, unable to turn away. She’s always been cute, with those thick eyelashes and that spattering of freckles on her nose and the way her cheeks flush when she asks for extra sugar in her latte. He’d even say she’s beautiful. But tonight, under the twinkling lights and the glowing moon, dancing with euphoria, enchanted by joy, she is breathtaking.

  Watching her dance and twirl and laugh.

  Wishing she was in his arms, dancing with him.

  ♛

  Standing on the edge of the clearing, the moon low in the sky, holding Michael’s hand between both of mine, I saw all of his memories of that night. Every last one.

  And then, with a mighty pull, I absorbed them into my mind, erasing them from his.

  Breathless, I released his hand. He opened his eyes, looked at me, at the girls surrounding him, up at the trees. Squeezed his eyes shut, shook his head, opened them again. “What... how did I...?” He ran his hands through his hair. “What’s going on?”

  It worked. I did it. He didn’t remember anything. I leaned closer to him and whispered, “Shh. This is just a dream.” He smelled like soap and pine.

  Using my mnemokinetic power always drained me for a few minutes, like fatigue after a rush of adrenaline. I wanted to get Michael home, but my legs were weak, my hands shaky. “Someone needs to make sure he gets home okay.”

  “He’s feeling a little dazed,” confirmed Fanny, shaking her head to clear it of Michael’s confusion.

  “I’ll take him,” said Ginger. She crouched and put her hands on his shoulders, and the two of them disappeared with a small pop.

  Anna kneeled next to me. “You sure he won’t remember anything about tonight?” she asked, rubbing my back.

  “When he wakes up in the morning,” I said, already feeling better, “he’ll feel like he had vivid dreams, but he won’t remember any of them.”

  “Good,” said Anna. “That was a close one.”

  Somber now, and still shaken, we packed up what was left of our soiree. Anna vowed tonight’s events would not stop our midnight dances and made us all promise to keep coming back.

  We walked home in the darkness and heat together. The girls congratulated me and thanked me for saving the Lab—and our dances. Anna even brought me in for a hug when we reached my house. “You saved us, Lila,” she said. “I’m so happy we’re friends now.”

  I waved goodbye to my friends, knowing our dances would continue. I’d solidified my place in the group and had earned their respect. I was one of them now, finally, and truly.

  But all I could think about were Michael’s warm hands, his tousled hair, his frightened eyes. He knew me. He’d noticed me, all these years, when no one else ever had.

  He thought I was beautiful.

  ♛

  I stopped at Hawthorne’s the next day on my way to the Lab, where we went every morning for training. After, I was going with Anna, Isadora, Josephine, and Katti to Lilybrook Lake. Anna had a new inflatable float, shaped like a gold, bejeweled crown, and so big that all five of us could fit on it at once.

  Unlike the diner’s subdued, almost-empty late nights, it was always bright and bustling in the mornings, with weaving waitresses carrying tr
ays and sit-down patrons clattering and clinking their utensils. Michael worked the carry-out counter near the front of the diner. I was fifth in line today, behind a tall, slender woman holding a toddler’s hand and jostling an infant in a baby sling, and in front of a short, round man muttering angrily into his phone to someone named Nelly. I watched Michael as I waited in line. Did he remember anything about last night?

  His eyes looked a little tired, but he didn’t seem confused or dazed as he took the customers’ orders. He wore a bright pink polo with the Hawthorne’s Diner logo—the name of the diner circling a slice of blueberry pie—embroidered in blue over his heart. Around his waist was a white apron with a small steno notebook and a pen in one of the pockets.

  His forehead was unmarred, the cut completely healed as if it had never happened. His dark hair was tied back. I definitely liked it better down and long and tousled, the way it had been last night. But I liked the way his jaw was a little scruffy today. Was it like that every day and I’d simply never noticed? Or had he been too tired to shave this morning?

  My turn. I approached the counter, watching him carefully.

  Was there a flicker of recognition in his eyes? No. A smile? No, not even that. Just weariness, and maybe a sense of impatience. “Morning, welcome to Hawthorne’s, what can I getcha today?” he mumbled.

  “Um...” I tapped my fingers on the Formica as I looked at the menu, determined to be healthy today. Iced green tea and an egg-white-and-turkey-bacon sandwich on a whole grain English muffin. Or maybe a lemon fizzy water and a spinach-and-feta wrap. Or the avocado, kale, and banana power smoothie with chia seeds and ground flax.

  The round man behind me had ended his phone conversation and was standing too close, and I could sense his impatience at my indecision, flustering me. “Small vanilla latte with extra sugar and a blueberry pie pocket to go, please,” I said.

  The corner of Michael’s lip rose the tiniest bit. If I’d noticed that smile before, I would have assumed it was a sneer. Now I knew he was amused. “Alrighty,” he said, wiping his hands on his apron and going to the coffee maker. He returned with my order exceptionally fast, as he always did, the latte with a cover and a sleeve, and the blueberry pie pocket warm inside a paper bag with extra napkins.