by Don Calame
Coop places his hand on his chest. “Did I say that? No, I did not. As it happens, there might be something in it for all of us. Namely, fame and fortune and millions of dollars. But that’s beside the point. The chief main reason we’re doing this is for Sean-o’s family.”
“We really need you guys,” I plead. “I mean, if we’re actually going to get this thing done before the baby’s born, we’re gonna need all the help we can get.”
Valerie looks over at Helen, who shrugs and smiles.
“I’m game,” Helen says. “What could it hurt?”
Val rolls her eyes. “Okay, fine. But I want to do the costumes too. If by some miracle this ever does see the light of day, I wouldn’t mind having that credit to put on my premed application. They love to see applicants with diverse interests.”
Coop shrugs. “Knock yourself out. You did a great job with Helen’s outfit at the Battle of the Bands, that’s for sure.” He waggles his eyebrows at Helen. And get this, she actually giggles. Girls. Jeez.
“Hey, what’s up, buttercup?”
I do a double take before realizing it’s Evelyn who’s sliding in next to me on the bench.
“Hi,” I say, my stomach gripping up. “What . . . what are you doing here?”
“Guess who has study hall fourth period?” Evelyn squeals. “And guess who got her study-hall teacher to excuse her to go have some lunch today?”
“Wow.” I blink. “That’s . . . great.”
I don’t know why I’m feeling so uneasy. It’s not like Evelyn hasn’t been mostly normal lately. She was totally chill when I told her I couldn’t hang out yesterday after school because I had to visit my uncle. Granted, I may have added that he was dying of emphysema, but there’s a chance that’s not actually a lie. Still, I’ve been bracing myself this whole week, like someone’s squeezing a balloon right next to my ear.
“So.” Evelyn grins across the table. “What are we gabbing about?”
“The guys are making a movie,” Helen blabs. “We’re helping out. You should too.”
“Ohmygod, I definitely want to help.” She looks at me. “I mean, if you want me to.”
“No. Yeah,” I lie. “Sure. Of course.”
“Cool. So, what can I do?” She’s practically vibrating.
“You wouldn’t have access to a professional video camera, would you?” Coop asks.
Evelyn frowns thoughtfully. “What do you mean by professional?”
Coop cants his head, suddenly hopeful. “Something high-def. Why? Do you have one?”
“Is there, like, a particular brand you wanted?” Evelyn asks.
“Any brand is fine,” Matt replies. “As long as it shoots really high-quality video.”
Evelyn shrugs. “I might be able to get my hands on something.”
I stare at her in disbelief. “Really? Seriously? Are you kidding?”
“I’ll have to ask around,” she says. “It could take a few days. When do you need it by?”
Coop’s got an excited gleam in his eyes. “We still have a few things to iron out.” He wipes his mouth with his napkin. “We have to cast, of course. And Sean needs to finish writing the script but . . . Maybe two weeks?”
Evelyn nods slowly, pensively. “Yeah. Okay. I can’t make any promises, but I think I can work something out by then. I’ll let you know. Anything else you need?”
“Sure. Some lighting would be nice. Microphones. A DSLR for publicity stills.” Coop laughs. “Seriously, though, if you can get the camera, you’d be a hero.”
“Awesome, possum,” Evelyn says, bouncing in her seat. “This is going to be a blast.”
We spend the rest of the lunch period discussing the film. Coop lays out the basic plot for the girls so that they can get a sense of the outfits, and songs, and props we’ll need. Honestly, I expected them to treat this like a bit of a joke. But they actually seem pretty into it. And seeing their excitement makes me think that maybe, just maybe, Coop may actually have hit the jackpot here.
When the bell rings, everyone gets up from the table, grabbing their trays as they go.
I start to stand when Evelyn grasps my arm.
“One sec,” she says. “I need to talk to you about something.”
“Sure.” I settle back down and lift my chin toward my friends. “Catch you guys later.”
“Adios, muchachos,” Coop says with a point of his finger gun.
“Bye.” Evelyn smiles and waves. Then she turns on me with this intense look in her eyes. “Why didn’t you tell me you were making a movie?” Her fingers grip my wrists like handcuffs.
“What?” I try to pull my hands away but she’s not letting go. “We did tell you.”
“No, you didn’t. Helen told me. So she obviously knew before me.”
“We only just told them. Before you came in. Could you . . . let go of my wrists, please?”
Evelyn glances down at her clenched hands. “Oh, sorry.” She laughs and releases me. “I’m just . . . It was embarrassing, that’s all. You know, in front of everyone like that. I mean, I am your girlfriend, right? So, I should kinda know when you’re doing something so big.”
“We only decided on doing it a little while ago.” I rub my reddened wrists. “I would have told you eventually. I don’t see what the big deal is.”
Evelyn’s right eye squints up like someone squirted her with grapefruit juice. “I just . . . I just . . . Uh-uh . . . No . . . This is not . . . No!” She lets out this low growling sound. Like she’s a constipated Rottweiler or something.
I glance around the nearly empty cafeteria to see if anyone else is catching this. But the few stragglers who are left are all self-involved. I look back at Evelyn, who appears to be going purple.
“Are . . . are you okay?” I ask.
All of a sudden, her face completely relaxes, her skin returning to its natural pink color. She takes a deep breath and wrenches a smile from her lips. “I’m fine. You’re right. I’m overreacting. I’m sorry.” Evelyn laughs, like what just happened was not the freaky thing it really was. “It’s all good. Seriously.” She pats my leg. “I’m going to get you your camera, Sean. You’ll see. Don’t you worry.”
“Uhhh, yeah.” I feel myself leaning away, like maybe her madness is catching. “Sure. Okay. Sounds good.”
Evelyn stands, brushing something — the wackies? — from her jeans. “We’re still on for tomorrow night, right?” She stares at me, a trace of the evil spirit still lingering in her watery brown eyes. “For our Web Design tutoring?”
“Oh.” God, I forgot all about that. I had to reschedule due to Uncle Doug. But I kind of assumed she wouldn’t hold me to it. I mean, I’m probably still reeling from visiting my dying uncle and everything, right? But there’s no way in hell I’m canceling on her right now, not when she still looks like her head could start spinning around. “Yeah. Of course. Tomorrow. Right. What time did we say?”
“Six o’clock.” She grins. “You’re in for a big surprise, mister.”
“Great,” I say, a puddle of acid pooling in my stomach. “I . . . I can’t wait.”
“Me, either.” She lunges toward me and grabs my head, squashing her face into mine as she administers a gaping-mouthed saliva-soaked kiss to my lips, chin, and the bottom half of my nose. There’s a loud slurping-up-spaghetti sound as she pulls away. “Boyfriend!” she squeals. “I love that we found each other, don’t you?”
“Mmm,” I say, trying to casually wipe off my upper lip with my lower one.
Evelyn gives me a little four-finger wave. “See you soon, raccoon!”
She turns and bounces out of the cafeteria.
“NOW IT’S RAIN!” Mr. Nestman calls out, his hands cupped around his mouth. This is the fourth improv “event” he’s had us react to today. So far we’ve had to deal with an imaginary blizzard, a thick fog, and phantom falling trees.
We’re in our socks, gliding around the room, acting as if we’re ice-skating outside on a pond. Pretty strange how just ov
er a week ago I was skating with the girl of my nightmares and today I’m pretending to do the same thing with the girl of my gamer dreams.
Of course, I’d be infinitely happier if Leyna and me could take up our Blazefire Sabers, hop aboard an Eidolon, and ride off to fulfill our Final Fantasy. Which isn’t very likely at this point, seeing as I haven’t had the guts to actually speak to her yet.
“Now it’s a torrential downpour!” Mr. Nestman hollers.
I hunch my shoulders and hold my hands over my head, pretending to be into this exercise but really just “skating” behind Leyna the whole time. Instead of hiding from the rain, she simply opens an “umbrella” and continues to coast light-footedly over the pond.
God, she’s amazing. So smooth and graceful and elegant. If I had any balls, I’d coast up beside her and start chatting. Instead, I pull back. Convince myself that I should watch the other kids. See who’s doing the best improv here. I mean, casting is this Saturday, and I still need to decide who to invite.
So I shift my gaze from Princess Leyna to Hunter, who’s taking cover under one of the still-standing “trees.” He wipes the rain from his face and arms pretty convincingly.
Then there’s Kelsey, clutching herself as she crouches in the corner. Her retainered teeth chattering is fairly realistic. Definitely someone to consider.
And here’s Douchebag Dan. Hamming it up, pretending to have fallen through the ice. Though nobody’s rushing to his aid, which only goes to show how we all feel about him.
“Hurricane!” Mr. Nestman shouts.
All of a sudden, everyone in the class is stumbling around, struggling against the gale-force winds. It’s the perfect opportunity to stagger toward Leyna and possibly make some incidental contact. Maybe then I could apologize to her, which would of course lead to a witty and flirtatious conversation. Or something.
But just as I reel in her direction, I hear someone holler, “Look out!” Before I can alter my course, Voluptuous Victoria blindsides me. I bounce off her soft fleshy buxomness, whip around, and trip over my own feet. A second later and I’m timbering right toward a flailing hurricane-buffeted Douchebag Dan.
My hands shoot out to brace my fall, and I end up grabbing Dan right in the crotch. He howls in pain as he shoves me away, screaming something about keeping my mitts off his shillelagh.
I turn and look up to see Leyna cupping her hand over her mouth, laughing hysterically. Not exactly the way I wanted to get her to notice me. I scramble to my feet, hoping the flaming red disappears from my face by the time I’m “blown” into her. But before I can stumble more than a few steps, the bell rings.
“That’s a wrap!” Mr. Nestman claps his hands above his head again. “Nice work, everyone. Really great. Now, get your shoes on and get the hell out of my classroom.”
I head over to the corner and grab my beat-up Nikes, which I strategically kicked off next to Leyna’s baby-blue Keds in the hope that I might be able to muster up some casual conversation when it was time to put our shoes back on. But now that I see her approaching, my mind is a blank.
“Excuse me,” she says, sliding past me to grab her Keds and red shutter shades off the stage steps.
I watch Leyna out of the corner of my eye. She’s sitting on the steps, trying to work a knot out of one of her laces. Any other guy would take full advantage of this lucky turn, maybe make a crack about how they don’t make shoelaces like they used to and then gallantly offer to untangle them for her. But I’m not any other guy. My body’s response to finding itself alone with a hot girl is to turn into a deaf-mute. Evolution fail.
She’s making quick progress with her knot, and before I can even replenish my suddenly depleted saliva supply, Leyna has slipped on her Keds and is standing up, ready to go.
“Wait!” I cry, leaping to my feet. Desperation made my voice much louder than I would have liked — more like a shout, really — and the entire class has turned to stare at me. Sweat prickles my underarms as my sluggish brain scrambles to save itself.
“Uh, hello,” I say weakly. Excellent start, Sean. “Before everybody leaves I just . . . I wanted to let you all know . . .” That I’m in love with Princess Leyna. That we’re destined to travel the universe together. That you are all witness to the start of a beautiful romance. Shit. Shit. Shit.
Then it hits me: I know exactly what to say. This is actually kind of perfect. My whole body relaxes. “My friends and I are making a low-budget horror movie to enter in a film festival. We’re casting this Saturday at my house. If anyone’s interested in trying out . . .” I grab my notebook, tear out a sheet of paper, and place it on the edge of the stage. “Just write down your e-mail and I’ll get you all the info.”
You’d think I was giving away free batarangs at Comic-Con the way the crowd of students mobs the sign-up sheet. I look to see if Leyna is among them, but it’s impossible to spot her in the horde.
“A film festival?” I feel a hand grab my arm.
I turn around to see Mr. Nestman knitting his brow. “Oh. I’m sorry . . .” I point over my shoulder. “I should have . . . asked you if I could make that announcement in class.”
“Well, it’s not a school project, is it?”
“No . . .” I take a step back. “I guess, I just figured —”
“But we can make it one, yes?” He grins. “I mean, if you’d like. I don’t want to step on any toes here, but I can certainly whip these kids into shape for you. Use our class periods to rehearse. Lord knows I’ve been doing the same goddamn curriculum for the last twenty years. I could use a change. What do you think? I like it. Do you like it? We can utilize school time and school funds to shoot this movie of ours.”
It all sounds so great — unbelievably great, really — that it takes me a second to process that last word. “Wait. Our movie?”
“Listen, I’m an artist first and foremost, Sean.” He places a hand on my shoulder. “I may have missed my time. Shot my load, so to speak. But that doesn’t mean I don’t want to help foster my students’ artistic endeavors. That’s my dream now.” He glances at his watch. “Look, I’ve got a staff meeting to get to.” He takes a business card from his wallet and hands it to me. “E-mail me your script, and we’ll talk more next week. This is going to be great. It’ll be fun to have a concrete project to work on in class.”
Before I can protest, Mr. Nestman disappears out the door.
I turn back to grab my stuff and see Leyna standing there, looking at me. Everyone else is gone. This should seem like a gift from the gamer gods, but after what just happened with Mr. Nestman, I can’t help feeling a little uneasy.
“That’s cool that Mr. Nestman’s willing to help you out,” she says. “He was really great directing me in The Miracle Worker last year. Did you see it?”
“Did I see The Miracle Worker?” I say, trying to buy some time here. “Of course I saw The Miracle Worker!” I exclaim, and am rewarded by a megawatt Leyna smile. “Yeah, wow. You were awesome in it. Really, truly brilliant.” I realize I’m laying it on pretty thick, but I can’t seem to stop myself. “Wow,” I repeat dumbly.
“Thanks.” Leyna’s still beaming. Phew. “I’m thinking of going to acting school after I graduate.”
“Really? Sweet. Me too,” I blurt. Half a second later, I realize what I just said. Acting school? Really, Sean?
“Cool!” Leyna says. “Are you going to be acting in your movie, then?”
“Oh. I don’t know,” I splutter. “I mean, I’m writing the screenplay, so I have to focus on that right now. But maybe. I might do a scene or two.”
At least that could be true. But what I really want to know is will Leyna be acting in my movie? Did she add her name to the sign-up sheet? I want to ask but the words won’t come.
“I think you definitely should,” Leyna says encouragingly. The sweetest smile I’ve ever seen in my life tugs at the right corner of her mouth. “I’ve watched you during improv. You’re really good.”
Leyna’s been watching me
? My cheeks flush and my palms start to sweat. “No way,” I croak. “Nowhere near as good as you.”
“We just have different acting styles,” Leyna says. “You have this intense emotional thing going on. Even when you’re not acting. Like there are all these feelings and thoughts going on behind your eyes.”
Oh, Christmas, is it that obvious?
“Thanks,” I say, trying to harness my intense emotional thing into something resembling confidence. Because it’s now or never, Hance. “So, does that mean you’ll be coming to the audition?”
My heart jackhammers in my chest, so loud that I’m afraid I’ll miss her response when it finally comes.
“Are you kidding?” She reaches out and gives my arm a gentle squeeze, sending an excited current right through my body. Then, loud and clear: “I wouldn’t miss it for the world.”
Oh, my God, I can’t believe this is happening. Leyna thinks I’m intense. And she’s coming to the audition. And she just gave me the I’m-into-you arm squeeze.
The signs couldn’t be more clear.
And I now know exactly what I have to do.
“YOU GUYS ARE GIRLS, RIGHT?” I look over at Valerie and Helen as the five of us walk through the back parking lot of the school.
“Uh, yeah.” Valerie laughs. “Last time I checked.”
Coop smirks. “And when was that? Can you describe the whole ‘checking’ proc —”
Matt punches him in the shoulder to shut him up.
“What?” Coop exclaims. “I’m just curious.”
“Anyway,” I interject. “I need some girl advice. What’s the nicest way I can break up with Evelyn?”
Coop makes a face. “You can’t break up with her. She’s getting us a camera. That’s key, dawg. It frees up our entire budget for everything else.”
I shake my head. “She’s not getting us a camera. Where the heck would she get a professional video camera from? She’s just saying that because she’s a whackadoodle.”
“Evelyn?” Helen’s tone is pure disbelief. “She’s one of the sweetest girls I’ve ever met.”
