Call the Shots

by Don Calame

  And fast.

  You know what they say about desperate times. . . .

  “All right,” I say, glancing at Coop. “Tell me more about this movie idea of yours.”

  Coop’s sweatshirt-hooded head snaps toward me. “Ha! Knew it! They always come back begging.”

  “Sean, you can’t be serious,” Matt says, looking at me like I’ve totally lost it. Which maybe I have.

  “I don’t know,” I say. “I’m just gathering info.” I look at Coop again. “How easy do you think it’d be to sell a movie?”

  Coop laughs like I’ve just asked him if he thinks it might be fun to see two smokin’ babes hot-fudge wrestling in a giant bowl of ice cream. “Are you kidding? As long as it’s halfway deece, someone will snatch it up. I mean, have you seen some of the crap-o-latte they trot out? There’s no reason we shouldn’t be able to perpetrate the same kind of fraud and rake in the mega-chips.”

  “So, you don’t even want to make a good movie?” Matt snickers. “Well, at least that seems like a realistic goal.”

  “You’re obviously missing the point, Matthew,” Coop says. “The idea is to make something that will sell. Quality is secondary. And maybe not even that important.”

  “But do you know how to sell it?” I ask. “Once we’ve got the thing made?”

  Matt stares at me. “Sean, why are you encouraging him? We killed this idea Saturday night.”

  “Yeah, well, my situation has drastically changed since Saturday. I need a whole load of cash, and I need it PDQ.” I look back over at Coop. “How long do you think a movie would take to film? And don’t say more than four months.”

  Coop sits up and rides no-handed. “Depends on how fast we can raise the chedda to fund it. Once we’ve got the greenage, it’ll be cake. We just come up with a basic idea — demon possession, coven of warlocks, vampire cats, whatever — dash off a script, and then roll camera. That’s how all these cheap-ass horror films are done. It’ll take a week. Two at the most.”

  “Okay, I’m in,” I say. “When can we start?”

  “Whoa, whoa, whoa.” Matt’s shaking his head like he’s being attacked by hornets. “What’s going on here, Sean? Why do you need money all of a sudden?”

  I feel my shoulders tense up. I was hoping I could hold off telling them, but I suppose it doesn’t really matter. They’re going to find out eventually.

  I take a deep breath and let it out slowly.

  “My mother’s having a baby,” I say.

  “Is it your dad’s?” Coop asks.

  I scowl at him. “Yes, it’s my dad’s, doink.”

  “I wasn’t asking about your dad’s doink. And just so you know, if it isn’t his baby, then it wasn’t his doink that was involved.”

  “It is his baby, you nerf herder. Why would you even ask that?”

  “I don’t know. You said you needed money. I thought maybe your dad took off when he found out your mom got preggers by some other dude.”

  “Well, you thought wrong. It’s both my parents’ baby.”

  I hop the curb to take the shortcut through Snyder’s Field, pedaling fast to try and put some distance between me and my so-called friends.

  “Hey, Sean,” Coop says when he and Matt catch up to me. “You do realize that this means your mom and dad are still grinding the guinea pigs, right?”

  “Yeah, thanks for that. I wasn’t traumatized enough the first time it occurred to me.” My wheel skids out on a patch of snow but I keep my balance and ride on.

  “No offense.” Matt stifles a laugh. “But your mom and dad are like the last people I want to think about doing the nasty.”

  “So let’s not think about it,” I snap.

  “I know, but you kind of have to, right?” Coop says. “I mean, you’re mom’s got the bun in the oven as proof positive they’re doing the grumble rumble.”

  “I’m serious, dude,” I warn.

  “Oh, come on,” Coop cajoles. “Tell me you’re not wondering how they do it. I bet it’s not missionary. Because your dad’s got that bloated physics-teacher belly going on. Which would just get in the way. Unless he’s got, like, a blue whale schlong.”

  “Can you stop?” I say. “We’re talking about how we’re going to film this movie.”

  “Actually,” Matt corrects, “we’re talking about your parents having sex. Which is infinitely more interesting.”

  “It’s not like we get off on it, Sean,” Coop reassures me. “It’s more of a let’s-go-look-at-the-bearded-lady type thing.”

  “Or flipping through Ripley’s Believe It or Not!” Matt adds.

  Coop reaches over and swats my arm. “Be honest now. You can’t tell us you’re not just a little bit curious?”

  “Yes, I can. I can tell you that.” My voice flutters as we ride over the uneven frozen dirt of the field that backs this lane of houses. “I am telling you. I’m not the least bit curious.”

  “Oh, I just had a thought.” Coop waggles his eyebrows. “What if your parents are into doing really freaky stuff? Like the Rhode Island Rabbit’s Foot. Or the Delaware Deep Dish.”

  “Or the North Dakota Meat Balloon.” Matt sputters with laughter.

  “Enough,” I say, covering one ear with one hand because I can’t ride no-handed when I’m not on flat pavement. “You can shut your pie traps right now.”

  “All right, all right, fine. Jeez.” Coop shifts gears on his bike as we get to the end of the field and turn onto Market Road. “So what if your mom likes to dress up like a mime and eat canned peach slices from your dad’s hairy belly folds? Doesn’t concern us, does it, Matt?”

  “No, of course not.” Matt’s laughing so hard his bike’s zigzagging through the street like he’s drunk. “They could be riding each other around the bedroom like wild naked ponies for all we care.”

  “Go to hell.” I stand and pedal hard to try and get away from them, but Coop and Matt have no trouble keeping pace. Finally, I just give up and sit back on my bike seat. “You guys are total dicks, you know that?”

  “Aw, don’t pout, Sean-o,” Coop says. “We’re just bustin’ your chops a little. Did you actually expect us to let something like that just slide on by?”

  “Yeah, if you had any class, you would,” I say.

  He grins and thrusts his hand out for me to shake. “Hi, Cooper Redmond. Nice to meet you.”

  I swat his hand away, but it’s hard to keep a straight face. Coop’s a d-bag, but he’s a funny d-bag, which makes it really difficult to stay pissed at him.

  “Okay,” Matt says. “If you don’t need the money for the baby, what do you need it for?”

  “Right. Like I’m going to tell you. You assbaskets will just make fun of me.”

  “I’m not going to lie to you, dawg,” Coop says. “There’s a very good possibility of that happening. But once we get it out of our system, you know we’ll have your back.”

  I let out a long weary sigh because I know he’s right. You couldn’t ask for two more loyal friends. “I need the money to build an extension on my house, okay?”

  “What?” Matt asks. “Why?”

  “Because. My parents can’t afford to do it. And if I don’t come up with the money”— I shake my head, still unable to believe this —“I’m going to have to share a bedroom with Cathy.”

  Coop grabs his chest like he’s been speared by an arrow. “Daaamn!” he howls. “Are you twisting me? Bunking with Count Skankula? That’s egregious, dude.”

  “Tell me about it.” I check my cell and see that — even with the shortcut — we are still in serious danger of missing first bell.

  “Do you have to move in with her right away?” Matt asks.

  “I don’t know. My parents said the baby’s going to be born in May. I’m guessing it’ll be around then. Which is why I’ve got about four months to figure something out.”

  “That is harsh, dawg,” Coop says. “How are you supposed to do any plug and play with the new lady friend when your Gothed-out sister’s si
tting there gawking at you?”

  Oh, God. Evelyn. I completely forgot about her! Perfect. Now I’m going to have to deal with the neck suckler today on top of everything else.

  “And that’s just the start of the nightmare,” Matt announces. “What about everything else you need privacy for?”

  “Right,” Coop says. “No more punchin’ the munchkin into the wee hours of the morning. And you might as well unbookmark all of those Bridezillas videos you like to watch.”

  I shake my head. “You see? This is why I didn’t want to tell you.”

  “No.” Coop points at me. “This is why you did want to tell us. Because we feel for you. Which is why we’re going to help you out by making and selling this movie for a chock of cha-ching. Isn’t that right, Matt?”

  Matt nods. “Of course. We’re here for you, buddy. One for all, and all for leaping back into the fiery pits of humiliation.”

  I look over at Coop and Matt and feel myself getting a little choked up. It’s a pretty good feeling to know that I always have my buds in my corner when all the chips are crumbling to pieces.

  And who knows? Maybe we can actually pull this thing off. Make a movie and sell it — if not for millions, then at least enough to get a nice big new room — my big new room — added onto our house.

  Stranger things have happened.

  I STROLL DOWN THE HALL with this semester’s schedule in hand. I’ve got a big smile on my face and a bit of a bounce in my step as I head toward our lockers. What started off as a really crummy day seems to be turning around big-time. Not only are my best friends going to help me out with this baby situation, but I also managed to switch out of Web Design and into Drama.

  It’s two birds with one bush. First, I don’t have to be in a class with overbearing Evelyn, and two — perhaps even more important — I can scout out the local talent for our film. Maybe even befriend some of the better actors and get them to work for free.

  “What about doing a remake?” Coop says as I step up to our lockers. “Something that’s crying out for a gritty reboot. Like Reservoir Dogs. Or Fight Club.”

  “Or Pokémon!” I exclaim.

  Coop levels his gaze at me. “Right, Sean. A gritty reboot of Pokémon. That’s just what the world has been clamoring for.”

  “We can’t do a remake anyway,” Matt says. “You have to get the rights to things like that. We have to do something original.”

  “Okay, fine, whatever.” Coop spins the dial on his combination lock. “But we should definitely film it in 3-D.”

  “Right, and where the hell are we supposed to get a 3-D camera?” Matt asks.

  “Where there’s a me, there’s a means, Mattington.”

  “I don’t know,” I say. “I think 3-D’s been a little overdone.”

  “Pfff, wrong.” Coop yanks down on his lock and opens his locker door. “What’s been overdone are boring 3-D movies. Ones that don’t take full advantage of the technology.”

  Matt looks at Coop like he’s just spoken Klingon. “What the hell are you talking about?”

  “Bountiful babes, dawg. Wouldn’t you like to see more jiggling jahoobies in 3-D? You know . . .” Coop lunges at me with two cupped hands. “Comin’ at ya!”

  I jerk back as Matt busts up laughing.

  “Anyway,” I say, “I seriously doubt we’ll have enough money to film in 3-D.” I shut the door to my locker and suddenly catch sight of Evelyn coming up the stairs at the end of the hall.

  Oh, crap.

  My heart vaults into my throat as I duck my head and try to hide behind Matt and Coop.

  “Hey! Bad touch!” Coop shoves me away from his locker.

  “Don’t let her see me. Please.” I shrink into myself and make another attempt to take cover behind my friends.

  Matt glances over his shoulder to see Evelyn coming down the hallway. “What’s the deal? I thought you guys were going out.”

  “It was a mistake.”

  “Why?” Coop grins. “Does she have callused hands or something?”

  “I wish. No. She’s just . . . a little nuts.”

  “I don’t get it.” Matt clicks open the rings on his binder and puts in some paper. “You guys were all over each other Saturday night.”

  “Correction. She was all over me. Like a succubus. I swear she was trying to draw blood. I had to ice my neck all weekend long to get rid of the bazillion hickeys she gave me. And she’s texted me eighty-two times already! You guys have to do me a solid and break up with her for me.”

  “Do you a solid?” Coop laughs, clicking his lock shut. “I don’t think so. You asked the girl out; you break up with her.”

  “I didn’t ask her out. Not really. She just assumed. That’s what I’m trying to —”

  “Hey there, polar bear,” Evelyn says, stepping up beside me.

  I brace myself for a rabid face gobbling, but she just lays a gentle kiss on my cheek.

  “Hi,” I respond warily.

  She gives a little cautious smile to Matt and Coop, then looks back at me. “You okay?”

  “Yeah, why? Are you okay?”

  “I’m a little embarrassed, I guess.”

  “Embarrassed? Why?”

  Evelyn’s gaze drops to the floor, her stringy red hair falling in front of her face. “I think I came on a little strong on Saturday. And all those text messages yesterday. God.” She laughs, shaking her head. “I’m really sorry about that. I was just . . . I guess I’m just a little overeager is all. My brother’s always on me about how excited I get about things.” She shrugs, then looks at me with this sort of sad, apologetic hangdog expression. “I didn’t . . . scare you off, did I?”

  All of a sudden I feel like a royal tool for wanting to break up with her.

  Of course she was excited. I’m her first boyfriend. It’s a big deal for her. I probably acted exactly the same way with Tianna. Okay, well, maybe not exactly the same. But it’s possible I was a little overzealous. Which is maybe why she ended things with me so quickly. Maybe if she’d just given me a chance, we could have had something kinda special.

  “No.” I smile at Evelyn. “You didn’t scare me off.”

  I catch Coop rolling his eyes behind Evelyn’s back.

  “Phew.” Evelyn’s whole body relaxes. “I thought for sure I blew it with you.”

  Coop sputters. “No, no. Sean definitely would have mentioned that.”

  I shoot him a death glare at the same time that Matt smacks him on the shoulder.

  Evelyn smiles the vacant smile of someone who doesn’t get the joke. “Well, good. I’d really hate myself if that was the case. Can we start over, please?”

  I nod. “Sure. Yeah. Okay.”

  “Oh, thank goodness.” She breathes a heavy sigh of relief, then unfolds her school schedule, which I notice is decorated with a multitude of lavish SEAN-PLUS-EVELYN-filled hearts. “So, did you get in to Web Design?”

  “Oh . . . uh . . . actually . . . um . . . No, actually.”

  Evelyn’s face falls. “Aw, dang it.”

  “Yeah.” A nervous laugh escapes my lips. I glance down at my own schedule. “Looks like they switched me into . . .” I look up and meet Evelyn’s big brown eyes. Oh, God, she knows I’m lying. “I mean, they put me in Drama instead.”

  Evelyn pouts. “I was really hoping we’d get to be in a class together.”

  “Yeah. Me too.”

  “Hey!” Evelyn perks up. “Maybe I should switch into Drama.”

  “No,” I blurt. “I mean . . . You don’t want to do that, because . . .” Because you’ll find out I was lying to you when I hand the drama teacher my transfer slip. “Web Design is . . . it’s going to be a great class. I so wanted to learn about that. You don’t want to miss out because of me.”

  “Yeah, I guess,” Evelyn says. “Oh, hey, wait a minute. I have a good idea. Why don’t I be your private tutor?” She beams at me. “You could come over after school and I could teach you the stuff we learn in Web Design. Then it’d be alm
ost like we were taking the class together. How’s that sound?”

  “Uh, yeah.” I nod. “That sounds . . . good. Definitely. For sure.”

  “Great.” She leans over and gives me another soft kiss on the cheek. “It’s a deal. Well, I better get to class. Later, gators.” Evelyn gives us all a little wave and then strolls off down the hall.

  “I thought you said she was a nutcase,” Matt says, snapping his lock shut.

  I blink once hard, watching Evelyn go, looking as normal as can be. “She was. I mean, she was acting like one at the rink.”

  Matt shrugs. “Seems pretty normal to me.”

  “Yeah.” I nod. “I guess it’s like she said. She was just overeager.”

  Coop grins. “That’s one of best qualities to have in a girlfriend, dawg. Right after being a gymnast.”

  “OKAY, EVERYONE,” MR. NESTMAN, the drama teacher, says, walking with long purposeful strides toward the door. “I think we can get started.” He kicks away the wooden doorstop and lets the door swing shut. “Let’s all sit in a circle on the floor.” He makes a circular motion with his finger as if he’s not entirely convinced we know what shape he means. “Girl-boy if we can manage it.”

  There are no chairs in the room, and so the twenty of us arrange ourselves — alternating guys and girls where possible — on the scuffed-up black-and-white tiles. By the time we’re through, we’ve formed something resembling a sloppy oval.

  My body is here in this cold classroom, but my brain is only half-present. The other half is still back at the lockers, replaying the Evelyn thing over and over. Trying to reconcile the girl who nearly chewed off my neck on Saturday night with the girl who I just met in the hallway. Something doesn’t compute.

  Mr. Nestman moves to the front of the room by the tiny stage and presses his hands together like he’s about to pray. “Welcome to Drama,” he says with a little bow of the head. He’s got this wispy white-blond hair that looks like a dandelion gone to seed. “I hope you’ve left all your inhibitions and insecurities out in the hall, because they will not serve you well in my class.”

  He’s wearing these saggy-kneed jeans and a rumpled, tucked-in blue flannel shirt. It’s not a great look for him, to be perfectly honest. It really accentuates his dangly limbs and short torso.