Saige Paints the Sky
Page 9
“You’re excused,” Mom said, the second I finished my last bite of stew and gave her a pleading look.
“Thank you!”
I ran upstairs with Popcorn on my heels and hopped onto the computer to research which landmarks required permits for filming. I’d barely started when my phone pinged with group text messages from my friends.
MARIELA: Z!! What’s the big news?
GIGI: Lauren?! Can you tell us?
LAUREN: It’s your news, Z, not mine!
BECKA: Tell us! Tell us! Tell us!
I started to laugh. I quickly typed back.
Z: Okay, I’ll tell you guys. Drumroll, please …
MARIELA: WAIT. I’m coming over! I want to hear this in person!
GIGI: Hurry, Mari!
While I waited for Mari to arrive from the house next door, I wrote down some notes. Gum Wall close-up—gross or cool? Include the Beanery! Must show everyone Queen Anne Hill. That was my neighborhood. It sat on the highest peak in the city, northwest of downtown Seattle. I loved eating at outdoor restaurants with my parents and going biking with Mariela. Ooh! Maybe I could wear my GoPro camera and film Seattle by bike, too! I jotted that idea down as well. I heard a knock at my door, and Popcorn started barking, wagging her tail madly to welcome our visitor.
“Come in!” I yelled, spinning around in my chair.
“Whatisitwhatisitwhatisit,” Mariela said quickly as she bent down to pet Popcorn then rushed over to my desk. Her cheeks were flushed like she’d been jogging, but she looked ready for the runway in a slouchy white scarf that she’d paired with a cute, fringed navy shirt and bright green skinny jeans. I’d never think to put those items together, but they looked great on Mari, especially the white scarf against her bronze skin and curly black hair. She plopped down on my bed, and a stack of beaded bracelets on her arm slid down to her wrist, sounding like a wind chime. “You can’t tease me like this! What’s your big news?”
Mari is my oldest friend in the world. She’s the one who started calling me Z when I was a toddler and it stuck. She’s one year older and in a cool band, but she still finds time to play official fashion consultant for Lauren and me on our AGSM videos. (Kit had Mari to thank for her rocking knit hat and sweater with jeans in our California gold rush video.)
“Hmm …” I scratched my head. “I don’t know if I’m ready to spill the beans yet.” Mari’s jaw dropped and I laughed. “I’m just kidding! Get over here so that we can chat with Becka and Gigi.” I waved her to my desk.
I quickly set up a video chat, and soon saw little moving images of my friends staring back at me from the computer screen.
“Finally!” Gigi said in a gorgeous British accent that made even the most mundane words (“bottle,” “water,” “class”) sound so much better. Her red hair was pulled into a high ponytail, and she had on flannel pj’s. (She’s from London, but her dad is a diplomat and she had mentioned earlier in the week that they were visiting DC. It was almost bedtime there.)
“We can’t stand the suspense anymore!” Becka urged. “Look what you’re making me do: Pop-a-wheelies!” She spun her wheelchair in front of the screen, her blonde hair whipping around her face. Mari, Gigi, and I all applauded. “Now I’m dizzy! What’s going on?”
I looked at my friends’ eager faces. I had known Mari forever, but Becka, Gigi, and I had only met last year at VidCon (one of the largest video conferences in the world) in Southern California. We like to say it was fate that our parents all took us and we happened to be in line behind one another to meet one of our favorite vloggers. We spent two hours nonstop chatting, and by the time we made it to the front of the line, we were already BFFs!
We exchanged numbers, and soon Becka and I were sending each other silly videos (like the one I did of Popcorn and me ballroom dancing and one Becka made of herself doing the coolest basketball twirling hand trick I’d ever seen). Gigi goes with her dad a lot when he travels for work, and she liked to vlog about the cool foods she tried in different countries. When she did a post from South Korea about not liking Pocky sticks, I told her she had to try the chocolate-covered desserts again because they were the best thing ever! We were constantly sending each other snack packs. (Recently, I’d sent Gigi Crab Chips and she’d sent me hard-to-find Cadbury chocolate you can only get in the United Kingdom.)
“Okay, ready?” I asked.
“YES,” my friends shouted.
“I got accepted to the CloudSong Film Festival. They want me to do a documentary about Seattle!” I shouted.
All three of them squealed and yelled “congratulations!” and “well done!” (that was Gigi). Popcorn barked and chased her tail. I gave them all the details, including how I was being given three hundred dollars to help cover any expenses for the film.
“There is this special camera mount that I’ve been dying to test out—you should definitely try to rent one!” Becka said. “It has six cameras going at once so you can basically get a panoramic shot. You’d be able to shoot some great views of Seattle like that.”
“That is cool,” I agreed, writing down the words “panoramic camera mount.” “Maybe I can get a shot of the Seattle shipyards and the Locks using that.”
“You could open on that shot,” Mari suggested.
“Yeah, maybe,” I said. Dad and I liked watching the salmon swim upstream at the Locks, but we didn’t do it that often. Still, it was definitely famous.
“Maybe you should rent a drone so you can fly a camera over the city and get amazing aerial shots of your favorite landmarks,” Gigi suggested.
“Oh yes! That would be great for the Space Needle,” Mari said.
“Yeah, that’s a good idea,” I agreed, and added “aerial shots” to my list. The judges would definitely want to see the Space Needle in a movie about Seattle, right?
“Next question: What are you going to wear if you appear on camera?” Mari asked. “Because I already have some thoughts. You look great in greens. I can even lend you green rain boots if you’re shooting in the rain.” Her eyes lit up. “And you could do a segment on Seattle fashion. You love Beat Street Thrift Store.”
“I got my directing hat there,” I said, and grabbed my purple beanie off my desk. I placed it on my head. “Maybe I could interview you there!”
“I can be in your movie?” Mari asked.
“Of course!” I said.
Fashion, friends, aerial views of Seattle, and panoramic shots of the city. Plus, stops at all the landmarks I talked about with Mom and Dad. Wow, there was a lot to squeeze into a ten-minute movie! I remembered what Mom said about movies needing a vision, but I wasn’t sure I had one yet. I had a lot of pieces so far, but no idea how they all fit together. I had a lot of work to do.
“Thanks, guys,” I told my friends. “You’ve given me awesome new ideas.”
“I’ll send you links to some of that camera equipment,” Becka said.
“And I’ll send you this great video about planning your shots. The girl who posted it made everything in her vlog look cool and artsy,” Gigi said, yawning. “Sorry! Definitely have to go to sleep soon.”
“I’ll bring over wardrobe choices,” Mari added.
They were all being so helpful, but I felt my brain beginning to fog up—it was a lot to process. “Perfect.” I looked at my list. It was twice as long as it was before.
“Ring if you need help,” said Gigi. “We’re headed to Buenos Aires this week, but you know how to find me.” We all oohed. Gigi went to the coolest places.
After we all said our good-byes, and Becka and Gigi’s video screens went dark, it was just Mari and me. I pulled my purple beanie cap down on my head and stared at my Brainstorm Board, my thoughts swirling. I was in director mode! Vision. I needed to make sense of all these notes and find my vision.
“Oh! Another lightbulb,” Mari said. “Maybe you should film my band playing at the Beanery on Tuesday. I mean, if you want.”
I didn’t really need any more ideas for my documentary,
but listening to Mari’s band was one of my favorite things to do. “That would be really cool. Besides, I already have my fan tee made.” I ran over to my closet and pulled out the purple shirt I’d been working on. I’d torn the sleeves off, added black bubble-paint lettering that said Needles in a Haystack, and drew a simple picture of the Seattle Space Needle (the inspiration for the band’s name).
Mari came over and thumbed the dried bubble paint. “This shirt is ah-mazing! Z, you might have a side career in the music tee business.”
“I’m a little busy for that,” I joked, pulling on my hat again. “I’ve got a movie to make first.” I sighed and turned back to the Brainstorm Board, jumping back into Z Director Mode.
“Z, don’t worry,” Mari said as she patted me on the back. “Your movie is going to be great—especially if I’m in it.” We both laughed. Mari was right, worrying wasn’t going to get me anywhere. There was no time to waste.
© 2013 American Girl. All rights reserved. All American Girl marks, Saige ™, Z Yang ™, and Girl of the Year ™ are trademarks of American Girl. Used under license by Scholastic Inc.
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Illustrations by Sarah Davis
Real Girls, Real Stories adapted and reprinted from American Girl magazine; “Hold Your Own Craft Sale” tips adapted from Express Yourself by Emma MacLaren Henke, illustrated by Charlie Alder.
Library of Congress Cataloging-in-Publication Data Available
Excerpt from The Real Z by Jen Calonita. © 2017 American Girl.
First printing 2013
e-ISBN 978-1-338-19723-5
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