Drawn That Way

by Elissa Sussman

  The dormitories at CalAn were a ten-minute drive from the studio, but we’d be taking shuttles every morning and evening. I had my car—my parents had to sign a waiver to allow me to keep it on campus—but I wasn’t allowed to use it to go in between the dorms and the studio.

  They were very particular about their rules. I respected that. You had to have rules. You had to have guidelines.

  Checking my phone, I saw that I had several messages from Julie and Samantha.

  Did you get the director position yet? Samantha had texted.

  Are there cute guys? If so, how many? Julie asked. Please send photos and rankings.

  Or drawings! Samantha added. Shirtless drawings!

  I laughed, thinking of how they often during the school year they’d request sexy sketches of their favorite celebrities. I’d done quite a few versions of Tom Holland performing Rihanna’s “Umbrella” to much acclaim and appreciation.

  I didn’t mind. In fact, I preferred dealing with guys who could be easily adjusted with pencil and eraser.

  I’m here to work, I reminded them, but they understood better than anyone how focused I could get.

  Boooooo, Samantha texted.

  We want drawings! Julie said.

  It wasn’t the first summer we’d spent apart. As usual, Samantha would be leaving soon to spend eight weeks at a Jewish summer camp in Simi Valley with limited cell phone service. Julie would be working and taking SAT prep courses. I texted them both an eggplant emoji.

  Then I put my phone away and gave myself a once-over in the cheap floor-length mirror hanging over the back of the door. I looked fine. I’d grown accustomed to pulling my hair back in a bun—I’d used to wear it down all the time, but it looked more serious this way. Bryan always had his hair combed back, kind of old-fashioned-like. Wearing my hair this way also kept the wavy mess out of my face and turned out to be a very convenient place to store pens and pencils. Twisting, I checked to see how many I was storing there at the moment. Just two.

  I buttoned my blue shirt up one more button and retucked it in to my high-waisted black pants. It was my own version of Bryan Beckett’s uniform, which consisted of identical trousers and a variation of the same type of shirt. I relaced my sparkly black Converse. That was another Beckett-ism—even though his clothing always stayed the same, he favored funky, unique sneakers.

  “Wearing the same thing every day clears my mind,” he’d said in his CalTED Talk. “It allows me to focus on the work. On my internal process, not my external presentation.”

  It made so much sense. I still had a closet at home full of dresses and jeans and T-shirts, but since I started wearing a uniform, I didn’t have to spend time picking out a new outfit every morning. It made things easier.

  There were kids at school who thought I was weird for dressing this way, but most of them also couldn’t tell the difference between a Disney movie and a Don Bluth movie. I didn’t care what they thought. I cared what Bryan Beckett thought.

  I straightened my collar, checked the back of my pants for lint, and headed downstairs. The multipurpose room was already full. My palms were damp as I clasped them behind my back, wondering what would be less awkward—introducing myself to a group of strangers that were already talking, or trying to make conversation over at the snack and beverage table.

  At least I knew that we shared a common interest. We were all fans here.

  And I wasn’t the only one following Bryan Beckett’s fashion guidelines. Across the room, a white guy in black pants and a polo shirt beelined for me so aggressively that I glanced back at first, thinking that he was approaching someone behind me that he knew. He was about my height and had dark hair that was slicked back.

  “You saw the CalTED Talk,” he said. It wasn’t a question.

  “Yeah,” I said.

  “ ‘The less time you spend on your appearance, the more attention you can give your art,’ ” he said. That was a direct Bryan Beckett quote.

  “ ‘Be creative with your drawings, not your clothes,’ ” I said, sharing another Beckett-ism.

  “I’m Nick.” He held out a hand.

  I shook it, hoping my palm wasn’t too sweaty. “Hayley.”

  “I’ve probably watched his CalTED Talk, like, fifty times,” he said.

  “Me too.”

  “It’s like, I think I’ve absorbed all of his wisdom, but then I watch it again and I learn something new.” His head bobbed to emphasize his point.

  I grinned at him. “Me too,” I said, because that was exactly how I felt.

  I’d tried to explain it to Julie and Samantha, but they weren’t really fans. They loved when I shared my drawings, but they didn’t understand my obsession—with animation or with Bryan Beckett. This was the first time I’d met someone who seemed to speak the same language as me. More nervousness melted away.

  Nick smiled. “No one at my high school gets it,” he said. “They used to make fun of me—pretending I was wearing the same exact clothes every day. Like I wasn’t even washing them.” He snorted and rolled his eyes.

  “People at my school don’t understand either,” I said.

  The guys in film club knew about BB Gun Films, and they admired Bryan but thought animated movies were mostly for kids and nerds. We watched a lot of movies about sad middle-aged men, New York mobsters, or blue-collar guys from Boston. Occasionally we’d watched older movies. Classics. About sad middle-aged men who were usually mobsters from Boston.

  “They were impressed when I got the internship, though,” Nick said. “They made an announcement and everything.”

  “That’s cool,” I said. They hadn’t done that at my school—I was a little jealous.

  “I’ve noticed a huge uptick in my creativity dressing this way,” he said. “I bet it’s even more significant, especially for someone like you.”

  “Like me?”

  “I have sisters,” he said. “I know how much time girls spend getting ready.”

  I didn’t have a chance to respond because I was suddenly set upon by a pack of the aforementioned species—girls. There were five of them.

  “Hey,” one said.

  She was tall and dressed all in black with short curly hair and brown skin. There was a little diamond in her nose and as she pushed her hair behind her ears, I saw at least three more piercings. For an animation nerd, she seemed pretty cool. In fact, for a group of animation nerds, we were all being surprisingly social.

  A collection of otters was called a “family.” Cats were a “glaring.” Lemurs were a “conspiracy.” I wondered what the term for us could be.

  “Are you Hayley?” the girl in black asked.

  Maybe we were a “sequence”?

  “Yeah,” I said.

  The group let out a squeal loud enough to make Nick retreat. I felt a little bad for him as he moved away, casting backward glances toward me.

  “We found her,” a white girl with glasses said.

  From the back of the group, another girl—this one pale and busty—pushed forward and engulfed me in a hug.

  “I’m Sally,” she said. “I’m your roommate. I’m so glad to meet you—sorry I didn’t wait for you in our room, but I was just so excited to explore.”

  “Hi,” I said. Maybe a group of animation nerds could be called a “vector”?

  Sally was wearing a top that looked like a watercolor painting. “This place is so cool, isn’t it?” she asked. “Caitlin came and found me, and we all went on a tour of the dormitories. I just love it here. It’s full of history and inspiration. I feel inspired; do you feel inspired?”

  Sally talked fast.

  “Yeah,” I said.

  “Emily knows all their secrets,” one of the other girls said. She was white and had bright blue hair pulled back into a ponytail. “Her cousin went here.”

  Five friendly faces stared at me.

  “Cool,” I said, a little overwhelmed but in a good way.

  A “render.” A group of animation nerd
s was called a “render.” If they were all as knowledgeable and friendly as Nick had been, I had a feeling this internship was going to be even better than I expected.

  “We’re the only girls in the program,” Sally said.

  I wasn’t surprised. I didn’t know any other girls that cared about animation. Unless I could drag Samantha or Julie to movie club, I was the only girl there. I was used to being the odd one out. This would be a very welcome change.

  I glanced around the room and noticed that the other interns were now eyeing us with both interest and suspicion. I recognized the look. I usually saw it when Zach told his friends that I liked animated films.

  In his CalTED Talk, Bryan had said that all that mattered to him was talent—he didn’t care who had it. Still, I was glad I had been discovered and folded into this little group.

  “I think they’re going to do some ice-breakers soon,” Sally said. “But they might separate us and I thought we should all get to know each other before they do.”

  Introductions were made, information coming at me like rapid-fire darts.

  Caitlin Gonzalez, with the piercings and curly hair, was from Sacramento, and one of the few girls I’d ever met who was taller than me. Emily Reynolds was the white girl with glasses and long, long blond hair. It nearly came down to her butt. Rachel Goo was Asian with straight dark hair, brown eyes, and incredible posture. She was from Florida, and had a really cool vintage style. Jeannette Conner-White was the girl with the blue hair and a big smile.

  Sally Hughes—my roommate—was from Texas. She, Caitlin, and Jeannette would be focusing on animation and special effects—building and polishing the final product. The other two girls, Emily and Rachel, would be studying story with me.

  “If animation is the body of a film, then story is the soul,” Bryan had said in his CalTED Talk. “They’re incomplete without each other.”

  I noticed, in addition to the intern group being very male-dominated, we were pretty homogeneous as well. Including Caitlin and Rachel, there were only a handful of interns who weren’t white. It was hard to tell, but I didn’t think there were many other Jewish kids, either.

  “Hope you don’t mind that I chose a bed without waiting for you,” Sally said. “We can totally switch if you don’t like it, but I think the beds are pretty similar and I thought it would be better if I was a little closer to the door because I tend to get up early each morning and go for a run. Do you run? We could run together.”

  I could tell why Sally ran. She seemed to have boundless energy. If I were to animate her, I’d make her a little blond particle, zipping through space, bouncing off of other particles and lighting them up.

  “I usually sleep in,” I said. “But I like the posters you put up. I have a few of the same at home.” If she was a particle, I was whatever science-thing generated energy by staying still.

  “Thanks,” she said. “I had a really hard time deciding which posters to bring—I have a few at home that aren’t of BB Gun Films, but I thought I might, like, get kicked out of the program if I had some Miyazaki or Laika posters up, you know? I love stop-motion animation—there’s something so awesome and tactile about it, you know? I love animation that feels like you could reach out and touch it. Like you could really live in it. I like your outfit.”

  It took a moment for me to realize that the last part had been directed at me.

  “Thanks.” I smoothed my hand down the front of my shirt. “And I really like stop-motion animation too,” I said.

  Sally beamed at me. “What’s your favorite?”

  Where could I even begin?

  “Coraline is pretty great,” I said, hesitating a little.

  Even with some of the guys in film club, when I started talking about my favorite movies, it didn’t take long for them to get bored and walk away.

  “I adore Coraline,” Emily told us—and I could swear there was a hint of an English accent there, even though she’d said she was from Montana. “It’s so creepy and dark. The Other Mum design is brilliant—how it changes from human to insect-like—the way she gets all stretched out.” In addition to the intermittent English accent, she had a flowy, earthy style that made her seem like she belonged in a rose garden.

  “What about Chicken Run?” Caitlin pulled her hair back, and I could see that she had a big silver piercing going through the top of her other ear. “I love Aardman’s style.”

  “That one’s great,” Rachel said. Her long, elegant fingers were clasped in front of her neatly buttoned cardigan. She was perfectly put together, except for the smudges of ink on her fingers. The kind of smudges we all had. “Kind of dark, too, in its own way,” she said. “I mean, it is about killing chickens and putting them in a pie.”

  “ ‘I don’t want to be a pie,’ ” Jeannette quoted. She wore cargo shorts and a tie-dye shirt with matching socks. She looked like a really cool camp counselor, with a fading sunburn across her nose to complete the look. I imagined her standing at the top of a mountain with a flag in her hand and a bandanna around her neck. “They’re so great with timing,” she continued. “Aardman is. Think of everything you get from Gromit’s character and he never says a word.”

  I couldn’t help grinning. These were exactly the kinds of things I thought about all the time. Julie and Samantha would watch animated movies with me, but they never talked about them in this way—as if they knew them. As if they studied them.

  “Your outfit really is cool,” Sally said.

  I stood up a little straighter. “I worried it might come off as being too brown-nosey, but this really is how I dress every day.”

  “I mean, at least it looks good on you,” Caitlin said.

  I took it as a huge compliment because Caitlin looked cool. With her piercings and her all-black clothes, she just exuded coolness. Like she belonged in a band.

  She nodded toward Nick. “He looks like he’s trying to be Bryan Beckett.”

  “He’s nice,” I said.

  Caitlin looked skeptical. “As long as he doesn’t do the ‘Test,’ I guess he’s okay,” she said.

  “I loathe the Test,” Emily said.

  I knew exactly what they were talking about. Before I started wearing my uniform, I was always questioned when I wore my favorite BB Gun Films shirt. It was usually by guys demanding to know if I was wearing it just to impress boys.

  “One of my cousins didn’t believe me when I told him I’d gotten this internship,” Sally said. “He tried to make me list all of the BB Gun Films in chronological order.”

  A film club guy had done something similar, only he’d made me name an important character from each film. When I’d rattled them off easily, he’d accused me of cheating.

  Even though the other guys were still staring at us, I didn’t think they’d be like that. We were in this together—united by talent and a love of animation. They were probably just intimidated by all of us. We did look pretty impressive. But we were just artists here. That’s what Bryan said.

  “Bryan always talks about how important the women on his staff are,” I said. “For the last film, they had the female artists sign off on the design for the male lead.”

  It was one of the few articles that had talked about the behind-the-scenes process, and the reporter had even gotten permission to talk to some of the vis dev artists—the people who helped shape the look and style of each different film.

  “I think this is the intern coordinator,” Rachel said, and the chatter slowly mellowed out to a hush as two people entered the room.

  “Hello.” The woman who had greeted us at the theater was standing with Josh Holder. “Glad to see you’re all getting acquainted. For those who haven’t met me, I’m Gena Noble.”

  We all formed a circle around them.

  “We thought we’d start off by dividing into two groups—those who are in story and development and those who are in animation. We’ll do a few ice-breakers, and get a chance to know each other before your mentors show up and we all h
ead to dinner.”

  “When I was a CalAn student, the dining hall had the best chicken wings,” Josh said. “That’s why the place is nicknamed the Wingy-Dingy.”

  Everyone laughed, even though it was kind of cheesy.

  “Okay,” Gena said, and looked at her clipboard. “All the animation interns should come with me—the rest of you can stay here with Josh.”

  I waved goodbye to Sally, Caitlin, and Jeannette.

  “Why don’t we grab some seats,” Josh said.

  There were folded chairs leaning against the wall, so I followed the other interns to get one. Before I could, though, Nick reached out in front of me and grabbed two.

  “I got you,” he said.

  “Thanks,” I said.

  We arranged our chairs in a circle, with Emily on one side of me and Nick on the other.

  “We should swap portfolios sometime,” he said.

  “Definitely,” I said. “I’m really proud of mine.”

  I’d worked nonstop on my submission from the moment I’d read about the internship to the day it was due. My grades dipped temporarily, and I pulled a few rough all-nighters, but in the end, it had been worth it. I was very curious to see what everyone else’s work looked like. I wanted to see my competition.

  “All right.” Josh leaned forward, his hands on his knees. “Why don’t we go around the room and everyone can say where they’re from, and uh, if they have any siblings and what their favorite animated film is. It doesn’t have to be a BB Gun film, but extra points if it is.”

  He gave us a broad smile to show that he was teasing, but I wondered if anyone was going to say a non–BB Gun film now.

  “I’ll start. I’m Josh, I’m originally from Seattle, Washington. I have two older brothers, and my favorite film is the one I’m currently working on.”

  I leaned forward, hoping he’d say more, but he just turned to his right, where a white guy wearing a green shirt told us that he was Keith, he was from Massachusetts, and he was the middle of three boys. We went around the room until it was Rachel’s turn.