Stacey's Movie

  They thought this would be wonderful and, mostly, it was. Of course, there were a few feuds and some adjustments to be made along the way, but everybody worked things out. And with Dawn’s mom, Sharon, around, Richard loosened up even more.

  So, things were great until Dawn decided she missed California and wanted to live there with Jeff (who had already gone back) and her dad. This was a major blow to Mary Anne. Logically she understood that Dawn was doing what was right for her. But emotionally she felt as if Dawn were deserting the family, and Mary Anne in particular. (Despite the initial upset, Dawn and Mary Anne have stayed close and Dawn is an honorary BSC member who comes to meetings when she’s in town.)

  Luckily for Mary Anne, she had other good friends for support during those tough times. She and Kristy are especially close. When they were younger, people used to think they were sisters, since they are both petite with brown hair and brown eyes. (Now, though, Mary Anne has a more fashionable look and shorter hair.)

  Another person who helped a lot is Logan Bruno, Mary Anne’s boyfriend. He’s a great guy, with sandy blond hair and a soft southern accent. (He’s originally from Kentucky.) He’s super-involved with sports. He’s also an associate member of the BSC. That means he doesn’t come to meetings, but we call him if there’s a sitting job none of us can cover. He’s a terrific sitter.

  Our other associate member is Shannon Kilbourne. She lives near Abby and Kristy with her parents and two sisters. For a while she tried to be a full-time BSC member. Her after-school activities conflicted too often, though, and she had to become an associate again. Shannon also pitches in when we run a fair or have a party or something like that for our kid clients.

  Jessi Ramsey flew into the room and checked the clock. It was exactly 5:30. “Whew!” she said, pretending to wipe her brow. Kristy gets annoyed if we’re late for meetings, so we all feel the pressure to be on time. “I had a great class today,” she said, dropping to the spot on the rug where she usually sits. “But it’s almost impossible to make it to Stamford and back in time.”

  Stamford is the city closest to Stoneybrook. Jessi takes ballet lessons there. She is a talented dancer, and she practically lives for ballet. You can tell just by looking at her. She usually wears her black hair in a bun, ballerina-style. It makes her brown eyes appear huge. And she’s so graceful and limber.

  The Ramseys live in the house my parents and I lived in when we first moved to Stoneybrook (Mom and Dad were still married then). Jessi’s aunt Cecelia lives with them, helping to care for Jessi’s younger brother and sister. When the Ramseys, who are African-American, moved in, some of the neighbors weren’t particularly glad to see them. Stoneybrook is mostly white, and unfortunately some people here are prejudiced. The Ramseys stood up to them, though, and now they have good friends in Stoneybrook.

  “Am I in your way, Jessi?” Abby asked. She was still stretched out on the floor.

  “Nope,” Jessi replied. “There’s extra room here on the rug these days.” She didn’t say it in a sad or angry way, but I felt bad for her just the same. Recently, her very best friend, Mallory Pike, went off to boarding school in Massachusetts. (She’s now also an honorary BSC member.) Like Jessi, Mal is a sixth-grader (the rest of us are in eighth grade) and was a BSC member. They used to sit on the floor, side by side, at every meeting. Jessi is adjusting to Mal’s absence, and they’ve exchanged lots of letters — but it’s still hard to lose your best friend.

  Jessi is our junior officer. She’s junior because, being eleven, she only sits in the afternoons (unless she’s watching her own younger sister and brother). That’s helpful, though, because it frees the rest of us (who are thirteen) to take evening jobs.

  “Any new business?” Kristy began the meeting. Before anyone could speak, the phone rang.

  Claudia was in the middle of ripping open a bag of Cheez Doodles, but she was closest to the phone, so she picked it up. “Hello, Baby-sitters Club. Oh, hi, Mrs. Rodowsky. I recognized your voice.” She grabbed a long yellow legal pad and began writing down information. “No problem, we’ll get right back to you.” As Claud was writing, Mary Anne opened the record book on her lap.

  Mary Anne is our club secretary, which means she keeps track of all our appointments. She knows everyone’s schedules, because they’re written in the book. With this information, she can make sure the sitting jobs are assigned fairly and accurately. In all this time, she’s never made a scheduling mistake. “What day?” she asked Claudia, who’d hung up.

  “Next Friday, right after school,” Claudia reported. “Jackie, Archie, and Shea.” The Rodowskys are regular clients, so she didn’t have to give Mary Anne any more information than that.

  Mary Anne checked the book to see who was available. “Abby?” she offered.

  Abby waved her away. “Please, no. If anyone else wants the job, take it. It’s the one afternoon I’ll be free all week and I need a break.”

  Mary Anne went back to her book. Kristy and I were free, but we were both hoping we’d be involved with the moviemaking Short Takes class. “I’d like to stay free as much as possible that week,” I said, “in case we need to do after-school work.”

  “Me too,” Kristy said.

  “Okay, that leaves me,” Mary Anne informed us. “I’ll take it.” Claudia nodded and called Mrs. Rodowsky back to tell her to expect Mary Anne.

  That’s how the club works. Clients call, we assign jobs, then we call the clients back. If we’re not busy with phone calls, there’s still lots to do. I’m the club treasurer, since I love math. Every Monday, I pass around an envelope and collect dues. (Everyone groans, but they always pay.) We use dues to cover our expenses — reimbursing Claudia for part of her phone bill and paying Charlie to drive Kristy and Abby here. We also use the money to restock our Kid-Kits, cardboard boxes full of fun stuff to take with us on sitting jobs. If there’s anything left in the treasury, we might throw a special event for the kids we sit for (a fair, a trip to the mall, something fun like that). Every once in awhile, we treat ourselves to a sleepover or a pizza party.

  We also spend meeting time writing in the club notebook, which is like a diary, in which we report about every sitting job we go on. It’s a chore, but reading the diary is helpful when you want to catch up on a family you’re going to sit for. If there’s anything you should know about the kids, it’s most likely in the notebook.

  Besides a president, a treasurer, a secretary, and a junior officer, we have two more positions I haven’t mentioned. Claudia is the vice-president, since we use her room and phone and she’s the hospitality pro. Abby is the alternate officer. She knows how to do every job in case someone is absent.

  Speaking of Abby, she was still on the floor when the meeting ended that day. As everyone was leaving, I took her aside. “Are you okay?” I asked.

  She nodded. “I’m resting so I have the energy to be your agent once you become a big Hollywood director.”

  “Good,” I said with a smile. “Rest fast because the class starts this Monday. And from then on, there will be no stopping me.”

  I was kidding, of course. But still … you never can tell.

  “Please, please, please,” I murmured Monday morning in homeroom. We were waiting for the Short Takes assignment list to be posted, telling us which class we’d been accepted into.

  I met my friends out in the hallway afterward. “I hope I get into Egyptology,” Mary Anne said. “But Contemporary Political Campaigns sounds so interesting. I listed it second. I don’t really care which one I get.”

  “We’ll find out at lunchtime. I heard that’s when the lists will be posted,” Kristy said. “If I get my second choice, Business Management, I’ll be happy.”

  I wish I felt as casual about it. But I was set on moviemaking. Maybe it would turn out to be my career.

  Alan Gray walked by. “Hello there, girls,” he greeted us. “Claudia, why aren’t you wearing your T-shirt?”

  Claudia glared at him. “Because I used it as a pa
int rag,” she replied.

  “Oh, what a shame.” He flashed us his most obnoxious grin as he continued down the hall.

  “I wonder what Short Takes class he picked?” Abby said. “Introduction to Moronic Behavior?”

  “Moronic behavior and Alan need no introduction,” Kristy commented. “They’re already best friends.”

  “That’s for sure,” I agreed. As we headed in our separate directions, I wondered how I’d last until the Short Takes list came out at lunchtime.

  * * *

  “I’m in!” I told my friends happily as I approached the lunch table where we always eat together. “I’m in moviemaking!”

  “How do you know?” Mary Anne asked.

  “I hung around by the bulletin board until they posted the list,” I explained. “You’re in too, Kristy.”

  “All right!” she cried.

  Everyone else immediately pushed back their metal chairs, making a horrible clatter. Kristy and I stood alone as they charged out the door to see which classes they’d been assigned.

  By the time we’d bought our lunches and returned to the table, they were back, chatting excitedly. It turned out that we’d all been given our first choices. “I can’t believe I’ll be learning about architectural design from a real architect,” said Claudia.

  “I think there’s a lot of math involved in architecture,” I warned her.

  “Oh, I don’t care. You’ll help me.” She was so excited that not even math could dampen her enthusiasm. She turned to Mary Anne. “I had an idea for making Egyptian ankh pendants from polymer clay. I’ll make you one to wear to your Egyptology class.”

  “Thanks,” Mary Anne replied. “Tombs and mummies are so cool.”

  “It’s a subject you can really get wrapped up in,” Abby intoned in a horror-movie voice.

  “Wrapped up in. Very funny.” Kristy snickered. “What are you taking, Abby?”

  “Introduction to the Art of Napping,” Abby replied.

  “You’d better start taking vitamins or something, Abby,” Kristy commented.

  “Whatever.” Despite her joke, Abby looked a little better than she had on Friday. I hoped she’d caught up on her rest over the weekend. “Actually, I’m taking the Athletic Physiology class,” she added. “I noticed Jessi is taking the class also. But she takes it at a different time.” (Jessi wasn’t eating with us because sixth-graders have lunch at a different time too.) “We’ll learn all about muscles and how they work when you’re moving. It should be cool.”

  “I can’t wait! Ready, set, action!” I cried for no reason other than total excitement.

  * * *

  Carrie Murphy was awesome. She swooped into class in a flowing, black gauze dress that made a perfect backdrop for her exotic, colorful jewelry.

  “Hello, everyone,” she said, beaming at us. “I am so pleased to be here, excited to be working with tomorrow’s award-winning filmmakers.”

  I loved the way she said that! It didn’t sound like a ridiculous fantasy anymore.

  “I suppose most of you have read my biography, so you know that documentaries are my speciality. We won’t be limited to the documentary form, though. If you have a story to tell, I want you to tell it. Of course, if there is something you want to document, that’s fine too. We are completely open in this class.” She began handing out some papers. “Before we begin to expand creatively, though, we have just a little paperwork to do.”

  As we waited for our forms, Kristy leaned over to me. “What’s he doing here?” she whispered, nodding to Alan.

  “Ew. Just ignore him,” I whispered back. Glancing around, I saw that Emily was there, along with Erica Blumberg, her good friend. Pete Black, a nice guy I dated once or twice, sat beside her. Logan was in the class as well, and so was Anna, Abby’s twin sister. Also in the class were Sarah Gerstenkorn, Ross Brown, Rick Chow, and Jeff Cummings.

  The form Ms. Murphy gave us asked for our name, home phone number, and the kind of video equipment we had available to us. Then there was a space to tell her what aspect of moviemaking most appealed to us.

  I filled in the information, saying that I was pretty sure I could use Mom’s video camera. Then I wrote, I’m good with math, so I might want to be a producer since a producer takes care of financial matters. And some of my friends have assumed I’d want to act. But directing is what interests me the most. So that’s what I’d like to do in this class.

  There didn’t seem to be too much more to say on the subject, so I stood up and put my paper on Ms. Murphy’s desk. As I walked back to my desk I noticed Emily scribbling furiously. She’d turned the paper over and was using the back.

  How could she think of so much to say?

  Then again, she is the editor of the school paper, the SMS Express, and wants to be a professional journalist. I suppose some people just have a talent for writing.

  “Now I’ll assign groups,” Ms. Murphy announced. Instantly kids started signaling one another, eager to line up groups for themselves.

  “Hang on,” Ms. Murphy cautioned. “I’m making the groups, just putting you together any which way. That’s often part of the moviemaking experience. You have to learn to work with people you may never have met before.” She selected kids who weren’t sitting near one another and put them in three groups of four.

  My group consisted of Emily, Erica, Pete, and me. I was pleased.

  Kristy landed with Logan and Anna — and Alan! When I looked at her she rolled her eyes at me. Well, at least she was with Logan and Anna. Maybe the three of them could keep Alan under control.

  “In the next three weeks you will be working with your groups to create a ten-minute film,” Ms. Murphy told us.

  “Awesome!” exclaimed Alan.

  “One person in each group will be the cinematographer, one will be the screenwriter, one the producer/editor, and one the director,” she continued. “I’ll give you five minutes to assign yourselves roles.”

  We pulled our desks into a circle. “Can I direct?” I asked right away. “Did anyone else want that?” They looked at one another and shook their heads. “Great,” I said, smiling. “Emily, do you want to be the screenwriter?” I asked.

  “Yes,” she replied. “Who wants to produce?”

  “I do,” Pete volunteered.

  “That makes me the cinematographer.” Erica looked pleased. “That’s exactly what I wanted.”

  When the other groups were ready, Ms. Murphy said, “Now I’m going to shuffle you around. Shake up your worlds.”

  In our group she made Erica the director, Pete the cinematographer, Emily the producer, and me the screenwriter.

  “But why can’t we do what we like?” Pete asked.

  “Because I want to move you out of your comfort zones,” Ms. Murphy replied. “I don’t want you to be comfortable; I want you to be challenged. Little sections of your brain that have been asleep will start to wake up.”

  “But what if I come up with a terrible story?” I asked, worried. “I’ve never been great at making up stories.”

  “Filmmaking is a collaborative process. Your group can help you. And you can help the others in their areas. In fact, with that in mind, after I assign you your new roles, I want each group to start brainstorming ideas for your film.”

  She moved on to the next group. Erica, Emily, Pete, and I stared at one another. Even after all my daydreaming about moviemaking, I was suddenly blank.

  “How about something with aliens?” Pete suggested.

  “Aliens?” Emily repeated, raising one eyebrow skeptically.

  “Why not? All the big movie companies do it.”

  “That’s true,” I agreed. “But I can’t picture myself writing about aliens. How about something closer to real life?”

  “Horror?” Erica suggested.

  “That’s not exactly real life,” Pete scoffed.

  “It could be. I guess I mean more like a thriller, really.”

  “Thrillers usually have lots of action, don’t
they?” I asked. Everyone nodded. I could picture myself scripting action scenes better than I could envision writing dialogue. “That might work,” I said. “It really might.”

  “What kind of thriller?” Erica asked. Again, we fell silent.

  “Godzilla Comes to Stoneybrook?” Pete suggested.

  “Yeah? And who’s going to play Godzilla?” Emily asked.

  “We could make special effects,” Pete replied.

  “What? A plastic T-Rex climbing out of the bathtub and knocking over a Lego village?” Erica laughed.

  Pete grinned. “Okay. Maybe not.”

  “But something like Terror at SMS or The Ghost in Locker One-twelve,” Emily said. “There wouldn’t be a lot of special effects. We could have a small cast. And the kids who were in it would think it was fun.”

  “Sounds good to me,” I said. Erica and Pete thought it was a good idea too. So it was settled. I left school that afternoon wondering just how thrilling a story I could write. And feeling very excited about trying.

  Over the next few days we learned a lot from Ms. Murphy. First, she played her Oscar-nominated documentary, Outback Journey, for us and then we discussed it.

  She told how she had gone into the Australian outback and spent time with a group of aboriginal people until they trusted her enough to speak with her on film about their beliefs, customs, and art. We learned how she’d shot tons and tons of film and then cut the film so that only the most interesting parts made it into her documentary. That’s the editing process.

  She also spoke to us about producing, which involves a lot of things I’d never thought of. Often the producer picks the project. Then he (or she) has to find the money to make the film. Either he provides the money himself or he convinces other people — backers — to put up the funds. The producer may pick the director and have a say in the casting as well as oversee the spending and keep the film within budget.

  “When are we going to start?” Jeff Cummings asked. His video camera was on his desk and he was obviously dying to film something.

  “Just a few more days,” Ms. Murphy assured him. “Your movie will be better if you learn some tricks of the trade before you begin.”