Stacey's Movie

  Every evening that week I struggled to write my script. For ideas, I rented a whole bunch of thrillers. They often featured a boyfriend-girlfriend team or a brother-sister duo as the stars. And they usually followed a pattern: Everything started out normally, and then slowly things turned stranger and stranger until something horrible was going to happen unless the stars stopped it.

  Although I thought of some good ideas, when I sat down at the computer, everything I wrote sounded dumb.

  At our Wednesday BSC meeting, I asked Kristy what her group was doing. “We’re calling our project Stoneybrook’s Funniest Kids,” she told me. “We’ll film the kids we sit for and then just use the parts where they do or say goofy stuff.”

  “What a great idea,” I said. “I bet you thought of it, didn’t you?” She grinned proudly in reply. “I knew it,” I said. “It’s no fair that your group has you — the human Idea Machine. We have no clue what we’re doing yet.”

  That night I watched an old episode of The Twilight Zone, and it inspired me. I wrote a script about a geeky, unpopular girl who wishes that everyone would go away and leave her alone. Then she arrives at school one day and finds that everyone is gone. She wanders through the school and gets the creepy feeling that something even stranger is going on. Someone writes on the board, even though no one is there. The PA system crackles and she hears singing, but no one is in the office. She smells food cooking in the cafeteria, even though it too is empty. Then, when the final bell rings, all these kids turned zombies burst out of their lockers and chase her around the school!

  I thought it had definite possibilities.

  * * *

  “This script is cool,” Emily said to me on Thursday morning before class. “Very cool.”

  I beamed proudly.

  “The final scene will require a lot of kids,” she mused. “But I bet we can get kids to volunteer. Bursting out of their lockers in gross makeup should be sort of appealing.”

  “I hope so,” I said. “Who do you think should play the girl?”

  “How about me? I have a geeky side,” Emily said.

  “You do not,” I protested with an uncomfortable laugh.

  “Oh, come on. I’m not saying I am a geek, just that I could be believable in the role.”

  “All right. When you put it that way,” I agreed. “We should ask Erica and Pete what they think and then get them to help us recruit kids for the zombie locker scene. Maybe we could start filming on Monday.”

  “Why wait?” Emily said. “Pete brought his video camera to school today. Let’s get as many kids as we can to stay after last period. We can film that scene first and get it out of the way.”

  “All right,” I said. “Let’s try.”

  * * *

  It was amazingly easy to recruit kids for our big zombie scene. People came up to me all day asking if they could be in the movie. Naturally I said sure. We told kids to show up at my locker after the dismissal bell and to use makeup, paint, or whatever they could think of to look as hideous as possible.

  I have to say, SMS students are incredibly creative. You wouldn’t believe how awful they looked when they arrived at my locker. Truly gross.

  Girls had used eye shadow to create huge dark circles under their eyes and in the hollows of their cheeks. They’d drawn scars across their faces with eyeliner and, naturally, they’d used lipstick to make great-looking blood. A few had emptied their hair gels and sprays — their hair was frozen in some pretty monstrous dos. And some had worked their makeup magic on a handful of the boys who showed up.

  Claudia arrived with Jessi and Abby. She’d obviously been in the art room, working. She’d drawn fangs on the other two and spread blue glitter under their eyes. The three of them had wolf noses, and ears sticking up from their hair. Claudia had used huge sheets of white art paper to give them torn paper shirts.

  “Do we look horrible, or what?” Abby asked as she spun slowly like a fashion model.

  “Perfectly awful,” I replied.

  Although Claudia, Jessi, and Abby had the best outfits, the other kids had done pretty well. They’d turned their shirts around, twisted them in knots, and taped paper blood onto them. One kid showed up with his pants legs pulled up and rubber snakes wrapped around his legs. (It’s amazing the stuff kids bring to school with them on a normal day.)

  “All right, everybody!” Erica shouted when the group of about sixteen kids seemed ready. “I’ve arranged for a bunch of lockers to be left open. Each of you just stand inside a locker and don’t mess with anyone’s stuff.”

  At that moment Emily came out of the girls’ room. She had fixed her hair in messy braids, had hiked up her jeans above her stomach, and was walking with extremely bad posture. “You’re an awesome geek,” I complimented her, laughing.

  “Why, thank you,” she replied.

  “Follow me,” Erica called to the group. She led us around a corner to where Pete waited, holding his video camera. “Lockers one-fifteen to one-thirty have been left open. Climb into one. When you hear Emily shout, ‘Where is everybody?’ leap out and chase her down the hall.”

  “How did Erica manage this?” I asked Emily as “zombies” began climbing into lockers.

  “We did it together,” she told me. “It wasn’t easy. We went to the office and asked for the locker list, then we ran around like crazy finding clusters of kids with adjoining lockers and asking them to leave their doors open for us. We promised to lock them before we leave.”

  “Amazing,” I commented.

  “That’s the kind of thing producers and directors do,” Emily said. She turned to Pete. “Ready?”

  He held up his camera. “I hope so. This thing has a ton of switches and buttons on it. I thought it was simpler than this.”

  Emily, Erica, and I joined him and studied the camera. It was complex-looking. As we tried to figure out what was what, a kid stuck his head out of a locker. “Hey, it’s hot in here!”

  Another followed. “And cramped. Come on!”

  “Just do your best,” Erica urged Pete.

  “Okay,” he agreed anxiously.

  “Ready on the set!” Erica shouted. Emily took her place in the middle of the hallway. “Ready, set … and action!”

  Emily threw her arms wide in frustration. “Where is everybody?!”

  Only seven or so kids leaped into the hall, Claudia, Abby, and Jessi among them.

  “Cut!” Erica shouted. “What happened?”

  She was answered by the rattling of lockers and the sound of muffled shouts. Claudia stepped forward. “Oh, no! They’ve locked themselves inside.”

  “Are you kidding?” I cried. Obviously she wasn’t. The clatter of lockers was deafening as kids pushed against them from inside. “What are we going to do?” I wailed.

  “Don’t panic,” Emily said, fumbling in her backpack. “I have the master key. The janitor gave it to me, just in case.”

  Thank goodness she’s so organized. Still, it took us close to five minutes to free everybody.

  “Next time, don’t close the door all the way,” Erica instructed the group.

  “Next time?” cried one of the girls. “I’m not getting into that locker again. It was too scary. I’m out of here.” Two other guys and one more girl left as well. We were down to about twelve monsters.

  “Is that enough?” I asked.

  My team thought about it, frowning. “I bet I could film them to make it look like more,” Pete said. “You know, if I stay ahead of them and sometimes switch to filming only legs and arms.”

  “It could work,” Erica agreed.

  “It’s not going to be easy to get these kids and these lockers together again. We’d better try to do it now,” I added.

  “All right, everybody. Take two. Remember not to shut your lockers all the way,” called Erica. The remaining kids climbed back inside the lockers, closing them gently. Emily took her position in the hall.

  “Where has everybody gone?” she shouted.

 
Lockers flew open. Kids jumped out.

  But, at the same moment, our principal, Mr. Taylor, turned the corner of the hall and walked right into our scene.

  You should have seen the look on his face. He leaped back, and even though I was worried we might be in trouble, I had to laugh. He looked so funny.

  Emily and Erica raced to him to apologize and explain what was going on. He took it pretty well but told us we had to be out of there in half an hour so the janitorial staff could clean the floors. We promised we would be.

  During take three one girl slipped and another two kids crashed into each other. “We can edit that out,” Pete decided, glancing at his watch. “Our time is almost up.”

  “Thank you all very much for coming,” Erica told our actors. “We’ll invite you to a screening of your movie debut when we’re done.”

  As the middle school zombies headed down the hall, I turned to my companions. “Why don’t we go to my house and see how the film looks,” I suggested.

  * * *

  When we reached my house, we settled down in the living room in front of the TV. “I have a copy of one of Ms. Murphy’s films,” Emily said, taking a videocassette from her backpack. “It’s one she hasn’t shown us. Do you want to watch it after we see our masterpiece?”

  “Yeah,” I agreed as I slid our video into the VCR. I hit the play button and eagerly waited for our first bit of film footage.

  What I saw was the ceiling of the school. Next there was gray, snowy static. Slowly, though, Emily materialized. She said her line, and the lockers opened.

  Much as I hated to admit it, the kids looked totally stupid. They weren’t scary at all. Half of them were laughing. Even the makeup I’d thought was so awesome on Claudia, Abby, and Jessi looked amateurish on film. I suppose I’m spoiled by all the fancy makeup and effects I see in movies.

  Then, suddenly, there was more video snow and Mr. Taylor’s face came on, in close-up. “The janitors will be cleaning the floor in half an hour,” he said.

  “How did that get there?” Erica cried.

  “I don’t know,” Pete said. “I warned you I wasn’t exactly sure how to work the camera.”

  The film snapped back to our scene, but it just looked ridiculous. We might have been able to pass it off as a spoof, but it wasn’t supposed to look as if first-graders had filmed it.

  When it was done we eyed one another. “It stinks,” Erica said, voicing our thoughts. Everybody nodded.

  “What do we do now?” Pete asked glumly.

  “For starters, you get someone to show you how to use the camera,” Emily said bluntly.

  “Well, I didn’t ask to be the cameraperson, remember?” he shot back defensively. “I was assigned it. I’m doing the best I can.”

  “I know. Sorry,” Emily replied. “It’s just not going to be easy to shoot that scene again. And we have to find some better costumes and makeup.”

  “That’s for sure,” I agreed unhappily.

  Emily put Ms. Murphy’s film in the VCR. For a minute I thought she’d made a thriller herself. But it turned out to be a very serious film about girls with eating disorders. She’d interviewed girls who were hospitalized with anorexia, a condition that causes people — primarily girls — to starve themselves because they believe they’re too fat.

  Our movie seemed dumb by comparison. Maybe it was time to switch gears altogether and take a fresh look at our project.

  On Friday after school Mary Anne went directly to the Rodowskys’ house for her sitting job. She was looking forward to it because she likes Shea (who’s nine), Jackie (who’s seven), and Archie (four). The kids are cute and funny.

  She was also excited about something out of the ordinary planned for that day: Mr. and Mrs. Rodowsky had given Kristy permission to come and film the boys. Mary Anne figured this was bound to be a riot since the kids — Jackie, in particular — are always doing something entertaining.

  Abby once told me that Jackie was trying to hear what she was saying to Shea and he fell through the door he’d been leaning on and into the hallway.

  And there was the time Claudia sat for them and the boys tried to paint the backyard shed but wound up painting themselves blue instead and left half the shed unpainted.

  On Friday night Mary Anne called me to talk about the filming. No sooner was Mrs. Rodowsky out the door that afternoon than Kristy, Logan, Anna, and Alan arrived. “All right, guys, just act natural,” Kristy said to the Rodowsky boys. “Pretend we’re not even here.”

  “How can we do that?” asked Shea, who sat at a table working on a jigsaw puzzle. Kristy swung the camera at him.

  “So, Shea, tell me what’s so interesting about puzzles,” she said. Mary Anne knew Kristy was hoping for a funny comeback.

  Shea looked at her blankly. “I don’t know. They’re just fun.”

  Alan tapped Kristy’s shoulder. “Uh, Kristy, did you forget? I’m the director. You just work the camera.”

  “Alan, I know these kids. You don’t,” she replied as she whirled around and aimed her lens at Jackie, who sat on the couch. “Jackie, why don’t you, um, stand up and do something?” she suggested.

  “Like what?”

  “Well …” she considered. “Walk up the stairs.”

  Archie climbed on the couch beside Jackie and began jumping around and making silly faces. “Look at me, Kristy. I’m doing something.”

  “Cut it out, Archie,” Jackie scolded his little brother.

  Kristy kept the camera trained on Jackie. “Jackie, move away from him. Go somewhere else.”

  “No thanks. I’ll stay here,” Jackie declined.

  Archie stopped jumping and stood on his head on the couch. “How about this, Kristy? This is a good one.”

  “I’ll get to you in a minute, Archie,” Kristy told him.

  Alan turned to Anna and Logan, who were standing by the door, watching. “Would you remind her that I’m supposed to decide what we film and how?”

  “Kristy,” Logan spoke up. “Is there something you’d like Alan, Anna, and me to do?”

  “Logan!” Alan cried. “Don’t ask her that. You’re supposed to ask me that.”

  Logan sighed. “You’re not the boss, you’re just the director, Alan.”

  “That makes me the boss,” he shot back.

  “I thought Anna was the boss. She’s the producer,” Logan argued.

  “I’m not exactly the boss,” Anna said. “I’m more the coordinator and money person.”

  “See? I’m supposed to be boss,” Alan insisted.

  “Oh, Alan, grow up,” Kristy put in. She returned her attention to Jackie. “Jackie, tell us about some of the funny things that have happened to you lately.”

  Jackie tightened his lips, then stood up and walked stiffly into the kitchen. Mary Anne hurried after him. “What’s the matter?” she asked him.

  He folded his arms. “Kristy’s making fun of me,” he said, crossing his arms.

  “I don’t think so.” Mary Anne pulled up a kitchen chair beside him. “She thinks you’re naturally funny, and she’s making a video about funny kids.”

  “Oh, yeah? Well, why is she ignoring Archie, then? I think Kristy just wants me to fall or bump into furniture or do something dumb.”

  Actually, Mary Anne had to admit to herself, he might be right. When nobody else is around, we do refer to Jackie as “the Walking Disaster.” Kristy was probably counting on him to live up to his reputation. Mary Anne was surprised that Jackie had picked up on that. “Okay, well … you don’t have to be in the video if you don’t want to be,” she said to him gently. “Kristy would never want you to feel bad. She just likes funny kids.”

  Jackie smiled for the first time that afternoon. “Great!” he exclaimed. “Can I go play in the backyard?”

  “Sure.”

  Mary Anne returned to the living room. Taking Kristy’s arm, she drew her aside and told her she’d given Jackie permission not to be in the movie.

  “What did you do th
at for?” Kristy demanded.

  “I didn’t want him to feel bad.”

  “Hmm, well, neither do I,” Kristy agreed. “Hey, Archie,” she called. “Let me see that hula-hoop dance you wanted to show me.” Archie launched into a hopping-around dance he seemed to make up as he went along.

  Everyone smiled at him — except for Alan, who stood in a corner fuming with his arms folded.

  Mary Anne wandered over to the window to check on Jackie. She smiled as she saw him engaged in a make-believe karate battle with an invisible foe. He was in a world all his own.

  Kristy moved alongside her and gazed over her shoulder. At that exact moment, Jackie stepped back, and his foot landed in a sand pail. It stuck fast, and he hopped on one foot, desperately trying to kick the pail off the other foot.

  “Yes!” Kristy whispered excitedly as she lifted the camera to film him. This was clearly the moment she’d been waiting for.

  Yet it seemed so wrong to Mary Anne. Jackie had said he didn’t want to be in the movie. He didn’t even know he was being filmed. She slid her hand across the camera lens.

  “Mary Anne!” Kristy cried. “What are you doing?”

  “He doesn’t want to be in the movie,” Mary Anne reminded her.

  “Oh, come on! This is perfect,” Kristy protested. “It’s exactly what I’m looking for.” She pushed Mary Anne’s hand away from the camera. But Jackie had succeeded in removing the pail by then. “You made me miss it,” she snapped. Frowning, Kristy turned away from Mary Anne. “Okay, everybody, I think we’ve gotten all we’re going to get here. Let’s go.”

  “Thank you, Ms. Cameraperson, for deciding that for me,” Alan complained.

  “You’re welcome,” she replied, heading for the door.

  Logan stopped to talk to Mary Anne. “Thanks for letting us film,” he said quietly. “I’ll call you later.”

  “Good luck,” Mary Anne said to him warily. “Do you think this can possibly work, with Kristy and Alan sniping at each other?”

  Logan shrugged. “I don’t have much choice. Maybe today was just a bumpy start.”