by Brian Rowe
“Right here.”
“And Dylan Wickerman.”
“Here!”
Brin turned around and smiled at Dylan. The ginger-haired boy, an acquaintance of hers since middle school, was tall, slender, and modestly attractive.
“All right, great, everyone’s here,” Mr. Barker said. “Now, let’s—”
Ash shot his hand up. “One more question!”
Brin leaned back and scratched her chin. She wondered how much time Ash was going to take up in these fifty-minute periods.
“Yes?” the teacher said, reluctantly.
“I was curious… are you related to Clive Barker?”
He smiled. “No. Unfortunately, I’m not.” He paused. “I am Clive Barker.”
Ash looked ready to wet his pants, when Brin said, “No, you’re not. You’re way too young to be Clive Barker. Isn’t that guy, like, old?”
A proud grin struck the teacher’s face. “Very good, Brin. See? I knew you’d fit in here.”
Brin smiled. Maybe this class won’t be so bad after all, she thought.
The teacher clapped his hands together. “All right! On with the show! It’s time I give you all your first assignment.”
Brin and Ash readied themselves for the reveal of the first film selection. But instead of lifting up a DVD case, or pointing to one of the posters in the room, Mr. Barker pulled up a large blue bag from underneath his desk.
“What’s he up to?” Brin whispered to Ash.
“I have no idea.”
The teacher returned to his stool, this time with a small but impressive HD camera in his hands.
“All right,” he said. “Who’s ready to make a movie?”
Chapter Three
“What?”
“Huh?”
“Did he say, make a movie?”
“Shhh.” Mr. Barker set the video camera on his lap. The noise in the classroom had gotten out of control. “Settle down, everyone.”
“I thought this was a film history class,” Brin said loudest of all.
“It is,” the teacher said, “but for all of you to better understand the medium before we study its history, I wanted to give you the opportunity to make a movie of your own. It’s not as scary as you might think. I’ll be grading you on your screenplay, cinematography, editing, music, pacing, acting, lighting, and sound, but other than that, there’s nothing to be afraid of.”
Mr. Barker smiled in such a way that suggested he was kidding, but Brin wasn’t so sure. She glanced at Ash, who looked both nervous and excited. He loved movies more than his own two dads, but he had never actually made one before.
The teacher pushed a few more blue camera bags out in front of him.
“I have five of these HD cameras, borrowed from the UNR media department. I’m going to be breaking you up into groups of six, since there are about thirty students in the class.”
Ash turned to Brin and whispered, “I’ll be the director, and you can be the star.”
“I don’t want to be the star.”
“One in the group will be the writer,” Mr. Barker continued, “one, the director; one, the cameraman; and the other three, the actors. One rule I have is that all six of you will have to be on set while you’re filming.”
“Mr. Barker,” a student from the back asked without raising his hand, “are you going to assign students to each job, or are you—”
He put his hands out. “Hold on, I’m getting there.” He sat back down at the chair behind his desk and pulled a bucket out of one of the drawers. “I’m going to be choosing names from this bucket, randomly, to decide on who’s in your groups. But when it comes to who will write the script, who will direct… those decisions are entirely up to you.”
“I hope we get in the same group,” Ash whispered.
“Me too,” Brin said.
Mr. Barker pulled the first name. “Breanna Skar.”
She smiled. “Right here. Brin.”
“Yes, Brin. Let’s see who’s in your group.” He pulled out another name. “Chace Anderson.”
“Sweet,” the jock said behind her. He kicked her chair, like he wanted her to turn around and swoon at his beautiful self. She didn’t move a muscle.
“Sawyer Neville,” the teacher said.
Brin had no idea who that was; she turned around to see a pimply-faced young man a few rows back raise his hand in apathy.
“Lavender Bickle.”
The tall, voluptuous blonde raised her hand, and Ash looked about ready to keel over in excitement.
“Oh my God,” he whispered. “I have to be in this group. You and Lavender? It’s perfect.”
“Shhh,” Brin said. When it came to Ash’s love life, there was none. But he was clearly in love with this Lavender chick.
“I have to direct it,” he continued. “And she’ll act. I’ll make her take her top off!”
Brin’s eyes widened, as Mr. Barker stopped in the middle of a sentence. He looked directly at Ash. “What about taking a top off?”
“Nothing,” Ash said with an innocent smile. “Continue.”
“OK. The fifth person in the group is…” He twirled his fingers around that small silver bucket for a few seconds. “…Dylan Wickerman!”
Brin grinned big and turned around, waving to Dylan. He waved back.
She crossed her arms, knowing in her heart that Ash had to be the last one chosen; it would make the group perfect.
Minus that doofus behind me, she thought. But that’s OK. I can deal with him.
“OK,” Mr. Barker said. “And the last person for the first group is…”
Brin held her breath. Ash closed his eyes and bit down hard on his bottom lip.
“…Anaya Frost.”
“No!” Ash shouted.
Brin didn’t say a word. She sighed and slunk down in her chair. You’ve got to be kidding me.
She turned to Anaya, who had an annoying grin on her face.
“All right,” Mr. Barker said. “Let’s move on to the second g—”
“Mr. Barker,” Ash said. “Can I make a suggestion?”
He sighed. “What is it now, Mr. Gorman?”
“Maybe there should be seven people in each group? Or eight, maybe? Because that way, we could—”
“I’m sorry. Six is the limit.”
“Can you please make an exception?”
“Sorry.” He shook his head and moved on. “The first person for group two is… well, look at this… Ashley Gorman!”
He wouldn’t have been so upset for the rest of the class period if he hadn’t been the next person to be called. It could have been him in that first group, him and not that venomous vulture named Frost.
Brin sat down with her group at the front and shrugged at Ash, who glanced at her briefly from the back, stuck with a group of kids he didn’t know.
“Hey Dylan,” Brin said, taking her seat in the circle next to the cute red head. “It’s good to see you.”
“You too. Have a nice vacation?”
“It was amazing. I miss it already.”
“Yeah, I hear ya.” Dylan looked out at the rest of the group. “So who’s gonna direct this thing?”
Anaya, of all people, opened her mouth to say something, when Mr. Barker shouted, “Quiet everyone! Let me give you the final details on your projects!”
The students turned to him. Brin shot Anaya a curious glare before she set her eyes on Mr. Barker.
“Each of your films will be horror themed. But to mix things up, and to make sure your movies are not all the same, I want a second genre represented in each film.”
The students didn’t seem to understand.
“Here are the choices, and I’m going to pick them for each group at random—comedy, romance, science fiction, western, mystery, and musical.”
Pretty much everyone shouted, “Musical?”
“So for example,” Mr. Barker said, “if you get the comedy genre, then you’ll need to make a horror film with traces of humor an
d jokes throughout. Think Young Frankenstein. If you get the romance genre, tell a horror film about a relationship, about a love that ends in violence or terror. If you get the musical… well… good luck.”
Brin turned back to her group. “Let’s pray we don’t get the musical.”
Everyone, even Anaya, nodded at that statement.
“OK, let’s see,” the teacher said. “Comedy is going to…” He didn’t swirl his hand around a bucket this time. Now he had flashcards. “…group three!”
The members of group three clapped their hands, obviously excited to have a category they could have fun with.
“Science fiction, group four. Romance, group six. Musical…” Everyone who hadn’t been called yet held their breaths. “…group two.”
“No!” Ash shouted from the back. Brin couldn’t help but laugh at her buddy’s misfortune.
“I know the musical’s going to be hard,” Mr. Barker said. “I’m not looking for Singin’ in the Rain, guys. I just want you to try your best.”
“What’s left?” Dylan said, turning to Brin.
“I…” Brin stopped. She couldn’t remember. “I don’t know.”
“Let’s see,” Mr. Barker said. “The mystery genre goes to group five!” He set the flashcards down. “So that means… group one…”
“No,” Brin said,
“Oh yes. Group one gets the western!”
“The western?” Brin said in a defeated tone. “How the hell are we supposed to make a western?”
“You’ll find a way,” Mr. Barker said. “Everyone, listen up. These films are to be five to ten minutes in length. I’ve installed iMovie on the three computers in the back of the room. This is what you’ll be using to edit your films, and I’m going to need your groups to decide on times after school you’ll be able to use the machines…”
Mr. Barker kept talking, but his words became background noise to Brin’s ears. She stared forward at her group, sad she wouldn’t be making this film with Ash, really sad she had to work with the scary Anaya, and exorbitantly sad they were going to have to make a western, the one genre of film she loathed more than horror.
I have to make a movie that mixes my two least favorite genres? she thought to herself. I have to make High Noon meets Near Dark? Why can’t I just make a nice romantic comedy?
“For the last few minutes of class,” Mr. Barker said, “decide on your jobs for the movie. And I don’t want any whining. Let’s go.”
Brin turned back to her group, and she immediately focused her attention on Chace and Lavender, the two most attractive people in the circle.
“I don’t know about you guys,” Brin said, “but I think Chace and Lavender should be the actors.”
“Sounds good to me,” Chace said, checking his phone messages, like he wasn’t the least bit interested in the project.
“Wait!” Lavender said, her breasts jiggling as she threw her arms up in the air in frustration. “Do I have to act?”
“I’m not gonna act,” Brin said. “Dylan?”
“I don’t care,” he said.
“What’s your name?” Brin said, pointing to the other guy in the group.
The scrawny boy sitting beside Anaya nodded his head at Brin. “Sawyer. Hi.”
“Yes, Sawyer. Do you want to act?”
“Not particularly,” he said. “I’m actually pretty good with a camera. I’ve been shooting skating videos for a long time. I’ve put them on Youtube and stuff.”
“Oh, well that’s decided then,” Brin said. “You’re our cinematographer.”
He nodded and scratched against one of his pimples. “Anything but the actor, and I’m happy.”
“OK,” Brin said. “And I don’t know what you guys think, since I’m pretty much directing you already, but I guess I’ll be the director—”
“Wait.” Anaya, who had been practically invisible in the conversation, turned angrily to Brin. “Who says you get to be the director?”
While the conversations at other groups became increasingly loud, the talking ceased for a moment in group one.
“Excuse me?” Brin finally said.
“I’d like to be the director, if that’s all right with you,” Anaya said.
“I was actually thinking you could write the script. What do you think of that idea?”
“Excuse me. Are you suggesting I don’t have what it takes to direct this movie?”
“Of course not.”
“Are you making snap judgments about me because of the way I look? Is that it?”
Well, yeah. “No. Of course not.”
“I’ll have you know, my father has shown me every single John Wayne movie ever made, OK? If there’s a movie I know well, it’s the western. I can direct the shit out of this thing.”
“Oh, well I’m not sure if—”
“How about I write the script and direct the movie, and you hang off to the side as my little assistant? Huh? How does that sound?”
Brin’s eyes bulged out of their sockets. She didn’t know what to say.
Before Brin could respond to Anaya’s comment, the bell rang, and all the students started standing and zipping up their backpacks.
“We’ll talk about this more tomorrow!” Mr. Barker shouted. “But start thinking of your storylines, OK? These films are due in just two weeks!”
“Two weeks?” Ash said from the back. “That’s it?”
“Two weeks. And I suggest, with the long Martin Luther King weekend coming up, you guys get your filming done sooner rather than later.”
Brin turned back to Mr. Barker. She considered telling him about Anaya’s loathsome attitude, but she decided, instead, to push forward and leave the teacher out of it. She grabbed her backpack and stepped toward the back of the room, meeting a sour-faced Ash.
As Brin stood in the doorway, she looked out to see Anaya, waddling toward her locker at the end of the hallway.
She didn’t want to talk to her, but she knew she didn’t have a choice.
“You going to your car?” Ash said.
“No. I’ll see you tomorrow.” Brin started walking toward the end of the hallway, toward the beast. “I have some business to attend to.”
Chapter Four
As her little strut brought her closer to Ms. Frost, Brin tried to keep smiling, even though she wanted to growl in frustration. She slowed down and waited, as Anaya pushed two of her binders into her locker and then tried to pry a small folder out from the back.
She cleared her throat as loud as possible, and Anaya turned around, an obnoxious smirk on her face. “Yes? Can I help you?”
Brin couldn’t believe her ears. The girl didn’t seem to remember her. “May you help me? No, I’m Brin. I was just in Film class with you.”
“I know,” she said in a calm demeanor. “May… I… help… you.”
“I just… the bell rang… we didn’t get to finish our conversation.”
“What’s there to finish?”
Brin crossed her arms and glanced at the exit door past the lockers. Part of her just wanted to make a run for it. “I would really like to direct this movie. Now I know you do, too, so I thought it would make sense tomorrow to leave it up to a vote from the rest of the group.”
Anaya shook her head. “That wouldn’t work.”
“What do you mean?”
“Well, first of all, there’s four others in the group, so if two vote for you and two vote for me, we’re back at square one.”
Anaya slammed the locker shut and Brin jumped from both the abrupt noise and the increasing tension. “But I—”
“And plus, I’m at a disadvantage, because you know one of the members of the group. That Dylan kid, right?”
“Uhh… well, yeah.”
“I don’t know anyone in the group. Therefore it would make sense that you would get more votes than me. And that’s not fair.”
“I don’t—”
Anaya kept interrupting her. Brin couldn’t get a word in. “And furtherm
ore, I’m at a disadvantage for purely obvious reasons.”
Brin couldn’t wait to hear where she was going with this. “Obvious?”
“Yes. You’re attractive. I wouldn’t go as far as calling you pretty, but you’re attractive. And I’m not stupid. I know I’m not gonna be Prom Queen. So just on appearance alone, I think it’s obvious you would receive more votes than I would. You’d be the director, and I’d be the writer. You’d make me write the whole damn thing, and then I’d never hear from you guys again. And that’s not OK.”
Brin waved her arms around in the air. “Will you just… please… shut up!”
Anaya finally closed her mouth. She stared back at Brin with venomous eyes.
“Look, I don’t know about you,” Brin said, “but I’ve never made a short film before, and as I try to figure out what the hell I want to do after high school, I think directing a movie right now would be smart, to see if I like it. I’ve started thinking about applying to film schools in the fall.”
“Well good for you, Brin. So make a movie.”
“Yeah?”
“Not this movie. Your own movie. On your own time. For this class? For the actual grade? I don’t trust anyone else making this movie but me. If you make it, if someone else in the group makes it, we’re gonna fail. With me at the helm, it’ll be amazing. With you at the helm, it’ll suck the big one. And that’s a fact.”
“Are you freaking kidding me?” Brin had never punched anyone before, but she was getting close now. “Can I ask you a question, Anaya?”
“Of course.”
“Have you ever made a movie?”
“Only about a hundred.” She pulled her sweatshirt down; now only some of the fat underneath her belly button was poking out. “I was chosen as Best Youth Filmmaker at the Reno Film Festival, and I’ve got an in at Cal Arts in Los Angeles. I’m gonna be the next major female filmmaker. I’m gonna be the first woman ever to win an Oscar for Best Directing.”
“I think a woman director’s already won.”
“Nope.”
“Kathryn Bigelow? The Hurt Locker?”
Anaya smiled. “Why can’t you just let me make the movie?” She took a step forward. Brin took three large steps back. “I mean, we’re all gonna get the same grade, anyway. Let me do the work. You can just show up, relax, hang out with your friend Dylan. And we’ll all get A’s. It’s a win-win.”
