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SH - Chapter 73: One hundred million
🕑 Added 2025-12-12 16:12:32 +0000 UTC“Yes?” Chelsea asked, finally lifting her head and looking at her friend.
“About time you reacted.” Jazmín leaned her elbow on the table, watching her with a mix of curiosity and exasperation. “What are you looking at?”
Chelsea lowered her gaze back to her phone. The thread about Owen, already trending worldwide, kept refreshing nonstop. Every second, ten, twenty, thirty new comments appeared.
“Everyone’s talking about him,” she murmured.
“Owen?” Jazmín said with a sigh. “Of course. It’s literally all anyone’s talking about in the program.”
Around them, hundreds of students were having lunch on the USC campus, the same place where rumors traveled faster than any official news. And in the Bachelor of Fine Arts in Acting, those rumors spread even more.
The BFA was a four-year program, extremely competitive. At USC, it wasn’t enough to come from a family with money.
Unless you were the child of a celebrity or had very strong connections, getting in required a flawless audition and a solid academic record. Most students came from well-off families, yes, professional parents: doctors, lawyers, engineers. People with stability, not necessarily millionaires. Even so, admission was still difficult.
Chelsea, Jazmín, Noah (the same one who bought Owen’s BMW), and several others were part of the same cohort.
They had all started together in August 2021. And in September 2022, now in their second year (sophomore), they were still moving forward, except for one.
Owen had been expelled in February 2022, halfway through the spring semester. He barely managed to complete a year and a half.
At the time, it had been a bombshell: professors talking about it, students whispering in the hallways. It wasn’t common for someone to be expelled from the BFA, but it wasn’t impossible either. The program was strict, especially when it came to discipline, attitude, and group work.
And Owen had always been difficult. Not in the sense of being rude or thinking he was the center of the universe, though he did have a bit of that, but simply because he couldn’t stand following orders he didn’t like.
If he was assigned a role he didn’t want, he complained.
If he was given an improvisation exercise he considered pointless, he challenged it. Long theoretical assignments annoyed him, he argued about everything. And more than once, he turned in work late or incomplete.
But no one could deny one thing: his talent was real. He had a stage presence that stood out even among very well-prepared students. That was why he was accepted, not just because his parents paid the tuition. You don’t get in on that alone.
Many had been surprised that Owen even completed the entire first semester. Then no one was surprised when he was finally expelled.
In such a demanding program, where everyone took classes with almost obsessive seriousness, Owen was the exception. While the others followed orders, endured roles they didn’t like, and completed tedious assignments, Owen was the only one who simply refused to play the game.
No one at USC, especially those in the same cohort, could have predicted that eight months later, Owen would become the creator of the most profitable film in history.
“Noah keeps bragging that he owns the BMW that financed Owen’s movie,” Chelsea commented, dropping her fork onto the tray.
Noah was in the same year as them. And it wasn’t the first time, nor would it be the last, that he brought it up. Since the movie premiered in September, all of USC, or at least everyone in the program, had quickly found out that the guy who’d been expelled in February now had a movie with A24, one in which he himself was the lead.
What shocked everyone the most wasn’t that. It was the fact that it wasn’t a movie he’d been hired for, but one he had created himself and then sold to A24 in an equal-footing distribution deal.
Someone who had been expelled for not following guidelines, for arguing with professors, and for turning in late work was now the creator of the biggest indie phenomenon of the year.
Jazmín snorted. “I’m already tired of him bringing it up every five minutes. He shows it off like it’s a display car.”
She had seen Noah showing the BMW to other students in the program in the parking lot, proud as if it were a museum piece. Now, with the viral thread, even more so.
“By the way,” Jazmín said, changing the subject, “we’re going with the guys to see a movie for Halloween today. It’s the tradition, are you coming?”
Last year, they had decided to watch a horror movie every day over Halloween weekend. They only managed to do it once, but everyone insisted on repeating it.
“Yeah… I guess. What movie is it today?” Chelsea asked.
Jazmín raised an eyebrow, as if she were about to make a dramatic announcement. “Tonight it’s… Paranormal Activity.”
Chelsea’s expression immediately turned strange. “Seriously? It came out over a month ago…”
“Yes, I know. But everyone wants to see it for obvious reasons. On Saturday we’ll watch Smile, and on Sunday Halloween Ends,” Jazmín replied with a small smile.
“Well, I haven’t seen Paranormal Activity anyway,” Chelsea murmured.
Jazmín nearly choked on her drink. “You haven’t seen it?” she repeated, surprised.
It really was strange.
The movie wasn’t a $400 or $500 million blockbuster, but within the acting program it was a phenomenon. It was a former classmate’s film. Someone whose expulsion had been the subject of conversation for weeks, and whom many people had known personally.
In the program, Owen’s name was impossible to ignore. Everyone had seen the movie. Some more than once. Even professors had mentioned it in class.
“No, I haven’t seen it,” Chelsea said flatly, with no intention of explaining herself.
Jazmín arched an eyebrow, as if the answer confirmed something she had already suspected. “So you didn’t see it because of that?”
“Because of that?” Chelsea asked, frowning slightly.
Jazmín hesitated for a moment before speaking, lowering her voice a bit. “You know… because you rejected him.”
Chelsea crossed her arms. “What does that have to do with anything?”
Jazmín shrugged. “I don’t know… I’m just saying that if you hadn’t rejected him, maybe you’d be the one in that place. The one who’d be with him now. Instead of Sophie Thatcher.”
The comment landed heavily, even if it wasn’t meant to hurt.
Sophie Thatcher, the co-star of Paranormal Activity and the same girl who had acted alongside Owen in Paperman, the viral short that had just made it onto Short of the Week. Owen’s current girlfriend, a public fact now that they had photos together on Instagram.
Chelsea pressed her lips together. “That’s not it,” she finally said. “I just… didn’t have time with the start of classes.”
A half-truth.
The real story was far more complicated, but she wasn’t going to explain it there, in the cafeteria, with curious eyes around them and more than one ear listening.
Yes, she had rejected Owen. They’d had something casual: parties and group outings where there had been chemistry.
Until he, with his relaxed and somewhat chaotic style, asked her out officially. So casually, so carelessly, almost as if it didn’t matter to him, that she felt he hadn’t put in any effort at all.
She had said no. She saw him going from party to party, not caring about classes, average or low grades, zero commitment. She didn’t want to date someone like that, no matter how fun he was on nights out.
She, on the other hand, took university seriously. She was one of the top students in her class. She knew she had to work hard, since her parents, although professionals, struggled to pay the tuition.
When Chelsea found out that Owen had been expelled, she felt that everything had a logical order. That discipline and taking things seriously mattered. That she, consistent, diligent, responsible, made sense, and that it would pay off.
Until it didn’t.
Because a few months later, the boy who hadn’t taken anything seriously was breaking a box-office record that had stood for more than two decades. And even if she didn’t admit it out loud, seeing that stirred a tangle of confusing emotions: surprise, discomfort, and a sharp pang of injustice.
“Well, you can come over to my place to get ready with Daphne,” Jazmín said, quickly changing the subject. The previous one had clearly touched on some uncomfortable nerves.
“Yeah, sure,” Chelsea replied, grateful for the escape.
After lunch, classes continued until six in the evening. That day they had one of their longest practical workshops.
When they finally arrived at Jazmín’s apartment, she and Daphne were already laying out makeup, clothes, and accessories. Even though it was a simple outing, movie and dinner, the three of them took it very seriously. They were actresses in training, and appearance was part of the game. Even for something as ordinary as going to see a movie.
“And did you get that short film you auditioned for or not?” Daphne asked while lining her eye in front of the mirror.
“No,” Jazmín replied with a sigh. “They gave it to a third-year girl. It wasn’t a big deal anyway, barely five minutes.”
Chelsea, checking her lipstick, added, “I sent self-tapes for two SCA projects, but they still haven’t replied. They’re probably going to people with more experience.”
A self-tape was an audition recorded by the actor themselves at home or in their apartment, a monologue, a scene, or a short reading, edited and sent online.
The SCA, School of Cinematic Arts, produced dozens of projects each semester: short films, directing exercises, practice scenes, experimental shorts. Too many roles, and yet still not enough for everyone.
“It sucks,” Jazmín said with a grimace. “Sophomores almost never get those parts. They always give them to juniors or seniors.”
The silence lasted only a few seconds before Jazmín’s phone vibrated. She checked the screen, sighed, and said, “We’re in luck. Noah’s picking us up with Javier… in the damn BMW.”
Daphne clicked her tongue and whistled dramatically. “Well, this will be historic. Riding in Owen’s former car to go see his movie, it’s destiny. Though it’s not the first time I’ve been in that car.”
Chelsea looked at her. “You’ve already been in that car?”
Daphne smiled, tucking a strand of hair behind her ear. “Yes. Back when it still belonged to Owen.”
Chelsea opened her mouth to ask something else, but Daphne simply grabbed her purse, turned around, and added lightly, “Old stories. Come on, they’ll be waiting for us downstairs.”
Outside, the dark blue BMW was parked in front of the building, polished, immaculate, almost gleaming in the evening light. Noah was in the driver’s seat, Javier beside him. When they saw the girls come out, both rolled down the window.
“Wow, you look amazing,” Noah said with a smile.
“As always,” Javier added, raising two fingers in greeting.
The girls nodded, pleased with the compliments, and climbed into the back seat. The car smelled of new cleaner, leather, and a faint trace of Noah’s cologne.
“So this is the famous car,” Jazmín said as she fastened her seatbelt.
“Not just famous,” Noah replied proudly. “A gem. Right?”
Daphne laughed and asked, “Did Owen reply to you after the tweet?”
“No,” Noah said, shaking his head. “I messaged him privately, but nothing. Still, it’s normal… he’s shooting a movie right now.”
The three of them immediately understood: The Spectacular Now, an A24 production, with Owen as the lead and Jenna Ortega sharing the screen.
Jenna, with more than seven million followers on Instagram, known for Scream, The Fallout, X, among others. Both she and Owen were barely twenty years old. That wasn’t a minor detail.
Noah, adjusting the rearview mirror, added, “This car is like the story of Sylvester Stallone and his dog, Butkus.”
Javier glanced at him sideways. “Here we go…”
Noah continued anyway, enthusiastic. “Stallone was completely broke when he wrote Rocky. He had no money, kept getting rejected at every audition, and was supporting his pregnant wife without a steady job. The only thing he had was his dog, Butkus. And even so, he had to sell him for forty dollars because he couldn’t feed either the dog or himself.”
Daphne and Chelsea listened closely. They knew Rocky, it was a classic, but not all the details behind it.
“I didn’t know that,” Chelsea murmured.
“Then he wrote the Rocky script in four days because he had nothing left. And when he finally got a studio to accept his story, the first thing he did with the money was buy Butkus back. But the guy he’d sold him to asked for a lot more money. Stallone paid it anyway and got his friend back,” Noah concluded.
“And he appeared in Rocky II, and in the credits, by the way,” Javier added.
Jazmín looked at him with an amused smile. “So, according to this analogy… in this story you’d be the evil seller taking advantage of Owen. That doesn’t make you look very good.”
Noah laughed, shaking his head. “I’m not that greedy. And I wouldn’t sell it anyway. I like this car.”
Daphne raised an eyebrow. “What if Owen offers you double?”
“No.”
Chelsea joined in, “Then you’re worse than the seller in Stallone’s story. At least he gave the dog back for a price. You keep the object with sentimental value and don’t return it to its owner.”
Noah frowned, indignant. “Well, yeah… but it’s not a living being. The car doesn’t have feelings.”
“And how do you know that?” Jazmín said, putting on a mysterious voice. “Maybe this car feels. Maybe it cries every night waiting for Owen to come back.”
Daphne rolled her eyes. “Let’s stop talking about sentient cars and get to the theater before Noah starts writing a whole saga about it.”
At one of the largest theaters in Los Angeles, they met up with the rest of the group. There were more than fifteen acting students, moving like a unified column amid chatter, laughter, and the usual excitement before seeing a movie, though the only one who hadn’t seen it yet was Chelsea.
The tickets had been bought in advance, and the place was packed, it made sense.
It was the week before Halloween, the most important time of the year for horror. And everyone wanted to be part of it, even if only symbolically, of the movie that that very Friday could surpass one hundred million worldwide.
Chelsea bought popcorn and a drink and followed the others into the theater. When the lights began to dim, she felt a strange knot in her stomach.
Nervous? About watching a movie?
It was absurd, and yet, there it was.
She had seen the trailer and the viral clips, but watching a full hour and more starring a former close classmate was something else entirely. She settled in between Daphne on one side and Jazmín on the other, trying to breathe deeply as the screen lit up.
The movie began after the A24 logo faded out. It had a found-footage style, the same one popularized by The Blair Witch Project in the ’90s, a technique many had tried to replicate afterward, almost always without success.
Drake, the protagonist, played by Owen, adjusted a new camera in his living room. A few seconds later, his girlfriend Katie arrived, played by Sophie Thatcher.
The opening scenes were simple, but incredibly natural. Neither of them seemed to be acting, and their chemistry was very strong.
Chelsea leaned forward slightly without realizing it.
Owen’s performance unsettled her. It was surprisingly subtle, without artifice or exaggeration. And what’s more, he was someone else entirely. Drake was jokey, kind, a little clumsy, a guy who always tried to ease tension with a silly comment.
Very different from the Owen she had known. Except for one thing: both were extroverted.
Everything else was pure acting, and very good acting.
'Was his level always this high?' Chelsea wondered as she popped another piece of popcorn into her mouth.
The film felt like a documentary, not a work of fiction.
Chelsea wondered whether the feelings between Owen and Sophie had emerged while they were filming. The on-screen connection was far too natural.
What at first seemed like nothing more than Drake’s experiment to test his new camera grew increasingly unsettling. Small noises, moved objects, and out-of-focus shadows, things the audience noticed before the characters did.
The movie was simple, all shot in a single location, so it made sense that it cost so little, but even so it was very effective. What Drake had started as a joke, let’s record everything to test the camera, ended up documenting something completely different: the descent into paranoia, fear, and the emotional breakdown of the two of them.
Chelsea swallowed. It was disturbing, and painful to watch the protagonists in that state.
The tension kept building like a snowball as the movie progressed and moved toward its ending.
Chelsea was no longer eating popcorn. She held it in her hand, forgotten, as she felt the film approaching its inevitable climax.
Would the protagonists die?
Would any of them survive?
She couldn’t anticipate it, but the tightness in her chest grew with every second. On screen, the night-vision camera showed Drake and Katie sleeping.
Suddenly, without making a sound, Katie sat up and stood beside the bed, not moving an inch. The footage sped up in a silent fast-forward, and still Katie didn’t react. Then, slowly, she turned and moved closer to Drake.
Chelsea felt the skin on the back of her neck prickle as she watched Katie lean over Drake, staring at him without moving. Was that really Katie?
'This is so creepy…' Chelsea thought, swallowing hard.
Then Katie left the room, passing through the open doorway and disappearing into the darkness of the hallway. The fixed camera couldn’t capture anything beyond that threshold.
From the row ahead, Chelsea heard Noah whisper to Javier, “Here it comes… here it comes…”
'Here comes what?' Chelsea thought, glancing at them briefly. She didn’t have time to process anything else.
A piercing, inhuman scream exploded off-screen. It was so loud and distorted that Chelsea immediately gripped the armrests by reflex.
On screen, Drake jolted awake, completely confused, shouting Katie’s name. And then, without thinking, he ran out of the bedroom.
“Don’t go…” Chelsea whispered, almost without realizing it.
It was obvious the demon had already taken control of Katie. She had always been the first to show strange behavior.
The camera remained fixed, showing only the empty bedroom. The entire audience was trapped, staring at a motionless space while the horror unfolded off-screen.
Drake’s screams faded away. The demonic shriek didn’t return either, until, once again, there were shouts, blows, and the sounds of a struggle.
Then silence. And suddenly a body was hurled out of the hallway, crashing into the camera with such force that the device fell to the floor.
Chelsea recoiled in her seat, genuinely startled. The camera, lying on its side, showed a skewed angle of the bedroom. And there, Drake’s body appeared on the floor, soaked in blood and lifeless.
Chelsea felt her heart race. There was a brief silence, broken by slow, uneven footsteps drawing closer and closer.
Chelsea swallowed for the second time, eyes locked on the screen.
Katie entered the frame, though only the lower half of her body was visible, the camera, fallen on the floor, offered a crooked, limited angle. She stopped beside Drake’s inert body.
Katie bent down slightly, leaning over him as if smelling him, like an animal. Her face remained out of frame, hidden by the angle.
Then she slowly straightened up. Far too slowly, and without another sound, she began walking until she stood directly in front of the camera.
The camera shook. Clearly, Katie had picked it up with her hands. Chelsea leaned back, bracing for the jump scare, unable to look away.
Finally, Katie’s face appeared on screen again. But it was nothing like it had been at the beginning, when she was happy, joking with Drake, or worried.
Her mouth was smeared with blood, her lips slightly parted, and her skin was completely pale, stretched tight.
And suddenly, she began to smile slowly and unnaturally, showing all her teeth. Her black, inhuman eyes stared directly at the viewer.
Chelsea felt a chill run down her spine.
The smile widened even more, and suddenly, without any transition, Katie’s face contorted into a crazed expression and she slammed the camera violently.
Chelsea let out a small scream and jumped in her seat. She wasn’t the only one, several people in the theater reacted the same way.
There was a black screen, and then the final text appeared while everyone tried to normalize their heartbeats:
[Drake's body was found by the police on October 11, 2006.
Katie's whereabouts remain unknown.]
[End]
The room remained silent for two seconds, then erupted in murmurs, nervous laughs, deep exhalations, and finally applause.
Chelsea joined in reflexively, still processing everything.
“What did you think?” Jazmín asked, a little shaken despite having seen it before.
“It was great…” Chelsea said, honestly. “It really picked up in the last few minutes. The tension, the scares… everything.”
“Yeah, that ending always works,” Daphne replied, shaking her head.
As the group stood up and moved toward the exit, Noah commented, “I thought I’d be used to the final scare by now, but that smile still gets me.”
“Totally,” said Javier, rubbing his arms.
The group gathered near the soda machines, still discussing scenes from the movie. Amidst laughter and debates, they started deciding which restaurant to choose and what movie to see the next day.
“I’m telling you, tomorrow it’s Terrifier 2,” Ian announced, raising his eyebrows as if revealing a secret. “It’s going to be way better than Halloween Ends.”
“I heard something about it… is it really that good?” Jazmín asked, raising an eyebrow skeptically.
“Totally,” Ian replied. “Just like Paranormal Activity, Terrifier 2 cost very little and has already made eight and a half million at the box office. It’s becoming a phenomenon.”
“Only eight million?” Daphne said.
Comparing it to the nearly one hundred million of Paranormal Activity made it sound small.
“It’s no small feat,” Ian clarified. “The budget was two hundred fifty thousand dollars.”
Noah snorted, “That’s like twelve times Paranormal Activity’s budget.”
“Well, it’s not a phenomenon of the same scale!” Ian defended. “But for an indie movie, it’s a huge success compared to what it cost.”
Now, several nodded. It was hard to argue with that.
“I saw on social media that some people have passed out at screenings,” Javier commented.
“Don’t exaggerate,” Daphne said.
“Google it,” Javier insisted. “It has a level of blood and brutal deaths.”
“That’s how anyone can make a movie,” Jazmín murmured critically. “Just put in explicit scenes, and that’s it.”
“It’s classic,” Javier replied, shrugging. “People like it, especially teenagers.”
“Are you coming to dinner?” Jazmín asked, noticing Chelsea a step behind, unaware of the conversation.
“No, I think I’m going home. I’m tired…”
“Are you sure?” Jazmín insisted.
“Yeah. You guys go, really,” Chelsea replied. She ordered an Uber that arrived quickly, and in about fifteen minutes, she was in her room, wearing comfortable clothes.
In her room, Chelsea opened YouTube almost instinctively. She searched for Owen’s channel and hit play on Paperman.
The black-and-white aesthetic, the soft music, the pace, the ending, she loved it. Much more than Paranormal Activity or Lights Out. The romance appealed to her more than the horror, and that short film had something beautiful and almost magical.
As she watched it, an uncomfortable thought slipped in uninvited: If she had accepted when Owen asked her out, would she have been in those roles?
Would she have been the lead in Paranormal Activity?
The one who walked the red carpet at the A24 premiere?
The co-star of Paperman?
There were three roles: one feature film and two viral short films. A résumé any young actor would kill to have. But even Owen’s short films were on another level. They didn’t just have a story and good reviews, they had millions of views.
Most professional shorts don’t even reach half a million. She closed Paperman and opened One-Minute Time Machine. She remembered that the lead was Owen’s sister: Sarah Ashford.
She searched for her Instagram and saw that she had more than 250,000 followers. Insane, and she was still in high school. She had just posted a story announcing that she’d been signed by A3, a mid-size but very respected agency in Hollywood.
All of that thanks to a single short film. Meanwhile, Chelsea was still in classes: workshops, exercises, endless assignments, and not a single significant credit on her résumé.
A painful thought surfaced: Should I be auditioning instead of studying? Does it even make sense for my parents to be paying so much?
Sophie Thatcher hadn’t studied acting at a college. Jenna Ortega hadn’t either. Owen had been expelled and ended up entering the job market, and succeeded.
Chelsea immediately shook her head. She couldn’t let that thought take hold. USC might seem useless when you looked at cases like those, but it wasn’t. The first year was formative. That was why students rarely had major credits at the beginning.
And it wasn’t just a school. It had its own professional ecosystem:
-Internal connections
-Access to private castings
-Professors who were real, working directors
-Agencies recruiting third- and fourth-year students
Among other benefits you could get from the program.
Besides, trying to audition on your own, through sites like Backstage, sending self-tapes to independent productions, was almost like throwing a bottle into the ocean: hundreds competing. Without connections, and without a strong résumé, landing a lead role was nearly impossible. USC gave you a structured path if you didn’t have connections.
Unless, of course, you had a brother like Owen, someone who wrote you a short film, put you in front of a camera, and suddenly gave you visibility, followers, an agency, and opportunities.
Of course… there was another way.
She left YouTube and opened the old chat with Owen. They hadn’t spoken since January 2022. Almost ten months of silence.
Before that, though, they’d messaged each other fairly regularly: comments about classes, shared complaints about professors, the occasional meme, until the moment he was expelled and they stopped talking, since they no longer shared anything, and she had rejected him.
'What if I text him?' Chelsea thought.
That was what everyone in Hollywood said, and repeated, was most important: connections.
Owen wasn’t just an actor. He was someone who created, who financed, who had projects. With Paranormal Activity, many outlets were already speculating about his next steps, what stories he’d make next, with what budget, and with whom he’d work.
If she could, thanks to that shared past, get him to consider her for a role, she could skip many steps.
She stared at the screen for a few more seconds.
'But he has a girlfriend…' she thought, a small knot forming in her stomach, before exiting the chat without writing anything.
She didn’t want to be that kind of person. Not someone who tried the usual flirting with someone who had a girlfriend, or who suddenly seemed interested now that he was successful. Her effort would have to pay off in another way.
Step by step. Class by class. If opportunities didn’t come now, they would come in her third or fourth year. USC was still her best card.
She locked her phone, turned off the light, and slid under the covers.
Friday came to an end.
While Chelsea slept, the first official numbers began to circulate. Paranormal Activity had made $5.3 million that day alone.
Enough not only to reach, but finally surpass, the hundred-million-dollar mark:
Total worldwide box office: $102,900,000.
Comments
Rivalty
Tftc
Hannibal St.Michael
So, Chelsea was a former classmate instead of girlfriend. So far I like her. Even more so because she didn't text Owen.
