The Real Z

  Seattle was definitely not the rainiest city in the country, but it was famous for its drizzle. Having rain in my Seattle movie would be classic, just like this song, and I knew just who I could get to sing it. I’d ask Mariela’s band, Needles in a Haystack, to do a remix of the song. I could even shoot them playing the song … IN THE RAIN!

  “Mom, you’ve saved the day,” I said, putting an arm around her.

  “I usually do,” Mom said drily. “But remind me: Why am I being called Super Mom this time around?”

  I held Popcorn’s leash tighter and practically skipped down the sidewalk. “You just helped me figure out my movie’s story, and it’s going to be fantastic!”

  After school the next day, Lauren and I rode our scooters down the block from school to the Beanery, Mari’s parents’ coffee shop, to watch Mari’s band play. I sang “Singin’ in the Rain” the whole ride over. Mom had showed me the famous movie clip and I had to admit, it was the perfect song-and-dance scene. No wonder film students still studied it.

  “Could you stop begging Mother Nature to make it rain?” Lauren joked as we pulled up to the bike rack and locked our scooters to it. “It’s finally nice out and you want it to rain some more!”

  “Hey, rain!” I shouted to the sun above. “I’m ready to sing in the rain! And dance around lampposts! Bring it on!” Lauren looked at me like I’d lost my mind. I cheered and spun around like I was Gene Kelly.

  “I think you’re dehydrated,” she said as we headed inside the shop and heard the espresso machine whirring. Mari’s mom was helping kids in line order bubble teas. People seated all around the shop at long wooden tables were talking to friends or working on their laptops. I spotted Mari’s band setting up in the back corner, and Lauren and I went right over.

  “Hey!” Mari said as she adjusted her mic stand. She was wearing a funky black shirt dress with a purple cinched belt. “I saved you two seats up front.”

  “You hold our spots while I order our drinks,” Lauren told me. “Your usual?”

  I put my fingers to my lips and pretended to think for a moment. “I’m feeling adventurous today. How about a strawberry and mango bubble tea with strawberry hearts instead?” I handed Lauren money from my pocket to pay.

  “Perfect choice! I think I’ll do the same. Be right back,” she said, and headed up to the counter.

  “Adventurous, huh?” Mari asked as her bandmates tuned up. “Is that why I saw Popcorn wearing your GoPro camera this morning on her walk before school?”

  I groaned with embarrassment. “Yeah, I watched the winning film from CloudSong’s Young Filmmakers’ Contest last year and was trying out something new. The filmmaker strapped his camera to a STOP sign and filmed people walking by, so I thought it might be cool to get a dog’s view of town.” I made a face. “Turns out that view is all grass and tree stumps.” Mari laughed. “But that’s okay because I have an even better idea for this doc. It involves you.”

  Mari’s eyes widened. “Me?”

  “Actually, your whole band,” I said. “I was thinking about how Seattle’s so rainy, and how it might be cool to include ‘Singin’ in the Rain’—what do you think of Needles in a Haystack doing a new version of that song?”

  “Oh, I love that movie!” Mari said, and sang the song’s chorus.

  “The song is perfect,” I said shyly. “But you know what would make it sound even better? If Needles in a Haystack put their own spin on it.” Mari looked at me. “And then I could film it as a music video for my movie.”

  “What?” Mari screeched, and her bandmates all stopped what they were doing to look at us. “Are you serious?” I nodded. “Guys,” Mari called to her friends. “Z wants to put us in her movie!” She quickly told them about the contest. They all huddled together talking while I stood anxiously outside their circle watching. Mari turned around and looked at me. “Okay, we’re in! We’d love to be your rock stars!”

  “Awesomesauce!” I cheered. I would have done a cartwheel if there was room, but there wasn’t. Instead, I jumped up onstage and hugged every member of the band. “I’ll let you guys get on with your show. Do you mind if I film you guys while you play today, though?” I asked Mari.

  “Mind? We’d love it.” Mari grinned. “Shoot away!”

  I got out my camera, which I had put in my bag this morning, and started recording. I zoomed in on Lauren returning with our milky tea drinks. Tiny jelly strawberry hearts nestled at the bottom of the cups. I paused to take a sip of mine through the wide green straw and slurped up two strawberry hearts along with the sweet drink. Ahh … like liquid candy! I pressed RECORD as the band announced they were ready to go.

  Needles in a Haystack called themselves a rock band, but I secretly thought they sounded pop, like some of my favorite songs on the radio. Either way, I loved their beat and their covers of popular songs. Lauren and I couldn’t help but bop along. Lauren usually doesn’t let me film her, but she even let me get a shot of her playing air drums. The whole Beanery was getting into the show!

  Before their last song, Mari came up to the mic. “This is a new song, ‘You Do You,’ and it goes out to our favorite director, Z, who everyone is going to know soon!” Mari pointed to me in the audience. “This one is for you!”

  Then Mari started to sing the song. The band totally killed it. I could practically see the music video I was going to make right in front of my eyes …

  “Thank you, Beanery!” I heard Mari shout.

  Mari jumped off the stage and plopped down next to me, beaming. “What did you think?”

  “I think we are going to make the best music video,” I said, and the two of us squealed. This movie was going to be unstoppable!

  Now I just had to plan the music video shoot, and I knew just the place to do that: my favorite working spot, the film archive center at my mom’s university. When Dad dropped me off there after school on Wednesday, I rushed into the building and soaked in the scent of film. The film archive center just feels so magical. The shelves are filled with dusty, old film canisters and books on moviemaking, and there is a projector always whirring away in the background that screens a constant loop of silent film scenes on one wall. I found Mom bent over her laptop typing with a stack of books open in front of her.

  “Hi, Mom,” I whispered as I sat down across from her. The center was like a library so everyone was quiet in there. I always felt very professional sitting by my mom working on movie stuff.

  “Hey, sweetie.” Mom looked up with tired eyes as I pulled my laptop out of its case. She’d probably been poring over these books for hours. “What are you working on today?”

  I told Lauren I was going to watch the Kit movie again to see if it needed any editing tweaks, but I was anxious to work on my CloudSong project. “I’m going to try to storyboard the music video I’m doing with Mari.”

  “Great idea,” Mom said.

  “But first, I’m going to see if anyone commented on my Z Crew video post about CloudSong!”

  “I could use a study break, too,” Mom said as she scooted her chair over to my side of the table. Now that my family and friends knew about CloudSong, I wanted to see what the Z Crew thought, too. I loaded the video and saw it already had several hundred likes. There were also a bunch of comments.

  ABBYKICKS74: Z!!! This. Is. Incredible. CONGRATS!

  PERFECTLYPETRA872: Love your videos, Z! Bet you win the whole thing!

  AGMOVIELOVER12: Good luck, Z! You won’t need it, though. You got this!

  Mom patted my back. “Look how happy everyone is for you,” she said.

  “I know.” They were so supportive; it made me smile. I scrolled further down and my smile faded.

  WHODOYOUVLOG89: No one can beat Z! She is the master of AGSM!

  NOTURAVGVLOGR: True, but this isn’t AGSM. It’s a real movie. Z will have to make her film even better than usual.

  NotURavgVlogR was right. I was making a short film, not a stop-motion video. I’d never done a documentary before.
I had to make every shot in this film flawless if I wanted to win. It couldn’t just be good. It had to be great.

  “Z, you’re not letting one comment mess with your head, are you?” Mom asked, seemingly reading my thoughts.

  “No,” I said quickly, and Mom raised an eyebrow at me. “Okay, maybe. But they’re right.” I pointed to the comment. “I always want people to think I know what I’m doing, but right now I feel like I really don’t. If I want to have a shot at winning first place, I have to stand out. I can’t have the judges think, ‘This is pretty good for a kid.’ I want them to say: ‘Wow, we just found the next big thing.’ My movie needs to be perfect.”

  Mom pushed her chair away from our table. “Come with me. I want to show you something.” We crossed the archive, my rain boots squishing loudly as I walked on the carpet. Mom stopped for a moment to grab a film canister and then led me past the projection area, to the information desk where a student was standing behind the counter.

  “Anything open, Gabe?” Mom asked. “I want to show my daughter something.”

  He smiled at my mom and me. “Sure, Professor Yang. The screening room is free. It’s all yours.”

  I loved when the students called my mom Professor Yang. She was like a rock star here! I followed Mom down the hall and into a room. I exhaled slowly in awe. We were standing in a tiny, private movie theater! With a flick of a switch, the dusty velvet curtains parted to each side of a large screen. I sat down in one of the overstuffed seats, and Mom quickly set up the film and lowered the lights.

  At first, I wasn’t sure what I was watching. It was just a series of short clips. Some of the clips were amazing, and some were pretty dull or jumpy like they were made by someone who didn’t know how to use a camera. I looked over at Mom. She was watching the screen with interest.

  “What is this?” I asked.

  Mom smiled. “This is a clip reel from some of the first films famous filmmakers made—Nora Ephron, Steven Spielberg, J. J. Abrams, and Mira Nair—they’re all in here. As you can see, they’re not Oscar-worthy.” A grainy shot of a crowd blurred in and out of focus. “But you know what’s great about all of these scenes? Every one of these filmmakers gave it their best shot, and they learned something in the process. Every time you step behind the camera you learn something new.”

  I thought of my Popcorn cam. It hadn’t worked, but it was fun to try.

  “Remember I asked you the other night about your vision for your movie?” Mom asked. “That’s your most crucial piece to the puzzle. You can’t worry about what comments your Z Crew posts or what your friends think you should film. What do you want your movie to say?”

  I thought about it for a moment. “I want it to be like me, but bigger and better. I’ve started shooting, but I’m not sure any of the shots go together. Like I have walks around the neighborhood on my favorite street with Popcorn, and I shot Needles in a Haystack playing at the Beanery, but I don’t have any of the big scenes I want to do yet, like the music video or any landmarks,” I told Mom. “I still want to rent a drone camera to record all the boats moving through the channels at the waterfront.”

  “Wow, you’ve got a lot you want to do! You’re taking chances,” Mom said. I gave her a worried look—not sure if that was a good thing. “That’s what directors do. Trying new things allows the filmmaking magic to happen.” She put her arm around me and pulled me in tight.

  Making filmmaking magic. I knew how to do that. I put my head on her shoulder. “Thanks, Professor Yang,” I whispered.

  “It’s Mom to you,” Mom teased. “And you’re welcome.”

  We sat with our arms around each other and watched the movie until the projector went dark.

  MUSIC VIDEO SHOOT CHECKLIST:

  1. Go over the day’s schedule with the crew (a.k.a. Mom, Dad, and Lauren).

  2. Double-, triple-, quadruple-check I have my camera AND that it works!

  3. Equipment check: extension cords, tarps, and extra lights

  4. Call the park again to make sure the reserved picnic area is absolutely, positively, definitely okay to shoot in. Bring the permit in case anyone asks to see it.

  5. Go over Mari’s costume picks with her one more time. Raincoats or no raincoats for the final shot?

  6. Pick up food from deli! Don’t forget snacks. Nothing greasy—it will ruin the costumes! (Mari’s note, not mine.)

  7. Pray the forecast for Saturday is right: 80% chance of rain.

  I’d planned for a week and a half, and now it was finally time to shoot what could be the most important part of my movie—the Needles in a Haystack video—and the weather couldn’t have been more perfect. The meteorologist was right! I could hear the pat-pat-pat of light rain hitting the gutter outside my bedroom window.

  Rain was just what I needed to make the day’s shoot a success. Well, that and about nine million other details that had to fall into place. I’d also looked at Mom’s camera equipment to see what I could borrow, like extra tripods. I couldn’t afford to rent them because I’d spent so much money renting a drone camera to use next week at the Locks. Dad had seemed skeptical about that decision. “I hope it’s worth it, Z,” he’d said. “You’ve always used your own camera, and your videos have turned out great.” I didn’t think Dad got it. I needed this movie to look better than my regular videos.

  My bedroom was packed with video equipment, tagged props, backdrops, a rolling cart crammed with outfits (and second outfits) for every band member and colorful rain jackets and umbrellas we borrowed from everyone we knew. Mari still wasn’t convinced we should have the girls use them. “Running in the rain without your jacket looks cooler,” she had said. I looked at my watch. We’d figure it out. It was time to go. I grabbed my new director’s clapboard from my dresser. The clapboard, which movie sets use to synchronize sound with the picture, was a gift from Mom and Dad. “Every director needs one!” Dad said. The clapboard looked like those old-fashioned black-and-white ones you saw in movies when someone stood in front of the camera and shouted, “Scene one, take one!” I’d always wanted one.

  The next hour was a blur. Mom and I whizzed over to the community park by the house where we were shooting the video while Dad headed to the deli to get the food we’d ordered. The playground looked lonely. Since it was drizzling, no one was hanging out on the swings or climbing through the tubes. It was just us, which was perfect for shooting a video. We quickly set up our equipment and the pop-up tents we had to keep the cameras and Mari’s band dry if it started raining really hard.

  I looked up at the sky and let the rain hit my face. I had broken the shoot down in half-hour blocks of time. I knew the day’s exact order of events. This was all really happening!

  Two hours later, my confidence had snapped like a guitar string.

  Literally. A guitar string broke and stopped the whole shoot.

  “The guitarist can’t play at all until her mom gets here with another string,” Mari told me. “She didn’t realize she didn’t have extras with her.”

  “Can’t she just pretend to play?” I made a mean air guitar motion. “No one will know, will they?” The actual song arrangement would be layered over the video during editing anyway.

  Mari smiled sadly. “This is our first music video, and she doesn’t want to fake it.” The rain started to fall harder as she spoke, and we huddled under my pink striped umbrella. “I’m sorry, Z.”

  “The wait could be a while,” Dad said as he pulled his hood tighter around his head. “When I ran out for more tarps, there was a fallen tree in town, and they were redirecting traffic down side streets.”

  I glanced at the band hanging out under the large tarp with their equipment. I really wanted to record them playing their instruments in the rain, but it was much harder to shoot in bad weather than I realized. If it was drizzling, they could play for a bit, but if it started to pour, they had to hurry back and hang under the tarp to wait out the rain. Filming was taking much longer than I thought it would and I bar
ely had anything recorded at this point. And now we were down a guitarist.

  “Maybe there’s another way around the traffic,” I said hopefully. No one answered me.

  I suddenly felt stormy, like the weather. How could things go wrong so quickly? I wasn’t filming anything I needed. We were just standing around waiting for the weather to change or a guitar string to arrive. I couldn’t just stand here and do nothing! Think, Z.

  “Guys, we’re going to start filming!” I said. Everyone looked at me like I was crazy. “I want to record you guys dancing in the rain. Without raincoats.”

  “But then we’ll get all wet. What about the other shots?” Mari asked from under the nearest tarp. She had been fighting me on the raincoats for this scene all along.

  “I wanted to get some footage of you guys dancing in the rain at the end of the video, anyway,” I said. “It’s only drizzling right now. Come on out and dance it off!” I started to dance around to show them what I meant.

  The band members looked skeptically at each other, but one by one they came out from under the tent. Lauren put on some music from her phone, and everyone started to dance. It happened so fast, I didn’t have time to think about my shot list, about which camera lens I should use, or whether I should grab a tripod. I just tried to capture the moment. The louder Lauren played the music, the more the band danced.

  “That’s it!” I told them. “Forget I’m here.” The drummer hung back, and I could tell she wasn’t thrilled about dancing on camera. “If I can dance like a goofball, you guys can, too!” I said. I handed Mom my camera and busted out my best, most awkward moves, making everyone laugh. I grabbed the camera again and went back to filming. I liked what I was seeing through the viewfinder—a group of friends having a great time in the rain. I filmed a close-up of Mari as she spun around with her eyes closed and then zoomed in on the drummer and the guitarist pretending they were ballroom dancing. I was finally getting something I could use.