At the end of the day, we had done thirty takes, but it was worth it because we had nailed the scene.
“See you tomorrow!” I told everyone.
My mom greeted me at the door when I got home.
“How was your first day of shooting, Miss Director?” she asked me.
“It was great!” I told her. “Want to see what we shot?”
“Sure,” she said.
“Here, let me just hit PLAY,” I told her.
“And I made you cupcakes,” my mom said.
“Now, the first couple of takes are a little rough,” I told her. “But they start to get good around the twenty-fourth take.”
“Okay,” she said.
I took a bite of cupcake and waited for the video to start.
On the screen, a message flashed.
>DELETION COMPLETE
Cupcake crumbs flew out of my mouth.
Typical.
I was downright gloomy when I relayed the bad news to the crew the next day at lunch.
“All the footage was deleted?” Lucy asked.
I nodded.
They looked as shell-shocked as I felt. Nobody said anything for a moment.
Finally, Wilson sighed and patted me on the shoulder. “It’s okay, Babymouse. We’ll figure it out. We’ve got your back.”
“He means we’ve got your whiskers,” Georgie teased.
“That’s pretty dangerous,” Penny snorted. “Have you seen Babymouse’s whiskers?”
Everyone laughed. Even me.
“Thanks, gang,” I whispered.
“Let’s just focus on what we’re shooting tomorrow,” Duckie said. For a duck, he was pretty unflappable.
Our next big scene to shoot was a love scene. As in ooh-la-la love! And smooches. It was supposed to take place at a café on the streets of Paris, but since there wasn’t any money in the budget to fly to Paris (très annoying!), Duckie had suggested we shoot in the cafeteria.
Ms. Octavia even excused us from morning classes so we could shoot when the cafeteria was empty and clean.
I have to say, it was a little strange to be in the cafeteria when it was empty. The whole place still smelled like burnt pizza.
“Babymouse!” Wilson called, walking up to me with a clipboard. “I need more direction on what should be on the restaurant table. What were you thinking for tablecloths?”
To be honest, I hadn’t given it any thought. I mean, who thinks about tablecloths?
“I don’t know,” I said.
He whipped out a folder and showed me pictures of tablecloth patterns. “What about checked? Crisp white? Maybe some lace?”
My head spun.
“Let’s go with…white,” I said. That felt French-ish.
“What about napkins?”
“What about them?”
He rolled his eyes. “What color napkins? Cloth or paper? Napkin holders? And what about cutlery? Do you want silverware or plastic? Maybe chopsticks?”
“Uh…cloth! And silverware.”
I was starting to crack.
“Do you want salt and pepper shakers? Any condiments? Flowers? Candles?”
That was just the beginning.
Everyone was barraging me with questions. Penny needed more direction on costumes. Georgie needed more direction on lighting. And on and on and on.
Everyone wanted direction, and I was totally…
It took most of the morning, but we finally got the shot set up. Henry and Felicia sat at a cafeteria table, which had been transformed into a Parisian café through Wilson’s prop magic. There was a painted backdrop of Paris behind them. Even the lighting was romantic. Georgie had put pink gels on the lights, and the whole scene looked like cotton candy.
I did a quick rehearsal with the actors. Henry was playing the Mysterious Figure.
EXT. SIDEWALK CAFÉ—SUNSET
VERONIQUE
You know I would cross an ocean for you!
MYSTERIOUS FIGURE
I was hoping we could sail the waters together.
VERONIQUE
Does this mean…?
MYSTERIOUS FIGURE
My love, will you share your life with me?
VERONIQUE
Until my whiskers are gray!
They lean in across the table, look into each other’s eyes, and kiss.
“Are you both okay with everything?” I asked them.
“You mean the kiss?” Felicia asked.
I nodded.
“Of course,” she said. “We’re professionals.”
“I’ve been doing theater since first grade,” Henry added, rolling his eyes.
“All right, then,” I said. “Let’s shoot!”
Duckie clapped the slate. “Au Revoir, My Locker. Scene twenty-seven, take one!”
“Action!” I shouted.
We had to wait until after school to do the shot again. It took us an hour to set up the scene.
Finally, our actors were in place. Time to get the film rolling!
“Au Revoir, My Locker. Scene twenty-seven, take two!”
“Action!” I called.
Felicia had barely delivered one line when Caden held his hand up.
“Hold on!” he shouted.
It was the first time I’d ever heard him speak, and his timing was terrible.
“What’s wrong?” I demanded.
Caden looked up from his recorder. “Something’s making noise. I can hear it in the background.”
I looked around. The cafeteria was empty.
“It’s coming from over there,” Caden said, pointing at the kitchen.
I marched over to the kitchen and flung open the door.
We waited until the lunch ladies left before we started shooting again.
Duckie shouted, “Au Revoir, My Locker. Scene twenty-seven, take three!”
“Action!” I called.
Almost immediately, Caden raised his hand.
“I hear something in the background,” he said.
I whirled on him. “I don’t care! I don’t hear it! Stop interrupting the shoot!”
He pursed his lips. “You’re the director.”
“Exactly! Now…action!”
Lucy started recording on the WHIZ BANG™.
Felicia gave Henry a smoldering glance. “You know I would cross an ocean for you!”
Henry leaned in. “I was hoping we could sail the waters together.”
A gasp. “Does this mean…?”
“My love, will you share your life with me?”
“Until my whiskers are messy!” Felicia declared.
(She was supposed to say “Until my whiskers are gray!” But I wasn’t about to stop her.)
They leaned forward, lips parted. And kissed!
It was magical! It was perfect! It was…
After school the next day, the whole crew met with Ms. Octavia to discuss our progress.
“So how many scenes do you have left to shoot?”
No one answered.
She looked at me. “Well, Babymouse?”
“Technically, all except one,” I admitted.
She shook her head, disappointed. “You’re going to have to pick up the pace. Time is money in filmmaking. Many films are shot in under a month. No one can spend a year shooting. You need to figure out how to speed up your production.”
“But how?”
“One way is to shoot multiple scenes on a single location. Part of the crew can be shooting one scene while the other part is dressing the set for the next scene. You have to keep a steady workflow.”
That made sense.
“What are the locations of the scenes you want to shoot next?” she asked.
Duckie consulted his clipboard. “A bedroom, a patio on an estate in the English countryside, in front of a doorway on a Parisian street, the Amazon rain forest, and the ocean.”
“Hmmm,” Ms. Octavia murmured. “It sounds challenging, but I actually think it’s doable. You need to break it down to basics. Location
-wise, you need a bedroom, a patio with grass in the background, a doorway, some thick exotic trees, and a body of water.”
I ticked through the list in my head. “I know! We can shoot it at my house!”
“Your house, Babymouse?” Felicia scoffed. “Last time I checked, it wasn’t in the English countryside.”
But Ms. Octavia gave me a small smile. “Go on, Babymouse.”
“All those things are at my house.” And then I frowned. “Except the body of water.”
“We can use a bathtub,” Georgie suggested.
“I can find some miniature boats,” Wilson said. “And paint a background!”
“That’s a great idea!” I said. “But I still have to do one thing.”
“What’s that, Babymouse?” Wilson said.
I made a face. “Ask my mom.”
“I don’t know, Babymouse,” my mother said. “That’s an awful lot of people to have in the house.”
We were in the kitchen. My annoying Little was sitting at the table doing his homework. I knew he was trying to overhear what we were talking about. He had big ears.
“Please, Mom,” I begged. “I can’t let down the crew. I’m the director!”
My mother narrowed her eyes. “All right. But you have to promise two things.”
“Anything!” I told her.
“One: you have to clean up after yourselves. No messes.”
“Got it.”
“And number two: you have to let your little brother be involved.”
“Woo-hoo!” Squeak shouted.
“Why?”
She put her hands on her hips. “Because he’s your little brother. Also, he lives here.”
“Fine,” I muttered. “He can be a PA.”
“What’s a PA?” Squeak asked.
“Production assistant,” I told him.
“That sounds important,” he said.
I grinned. “Oh, it is.”
I couldn’t wait to boss my Little around.
On Saturday morning, my mom and dad left to “enjoy the day,” as they said.
“Make sure it’s clean as a whistle when we return,” my mother called as they walked out.
“I will!” I promised.
The first scene took place on the back patio. I had some of the production assistants stand in while we set up the shot because the actors were getting their makeup put on.
“Très bien!” I declared. “Bring in the actors.”
Felicia swept in, looking fabulous.
“You look wonderful, Felicia,” I told her.
“Of course I do,” she sniffed.
Henry walked out a minute later, looking very dapper.
“Places, everyone,” I called.
“Uh, Babymouse?” Lucy whispered. “You might want to take a look at this.”
“What’s wrong?” I asked, walking around to look at the screen.
“Oh,” I said. “Any ideas?”
“Hat?” she suggested.
“Penny, can you come over here for a moment?”
“What do you need, Babymouse?”
I pointed at the screen. “You wouldn’t happen to have any top hats, would you?”
“I have a beanie,” she said.
“That’s not gonna work. Uh, Wilson?”
“What is taking so long?” Felicia demanded. “I’m tired of standing here!”
“Uh, just give us a minute, please,” I said quickly.
“What’s wrong?” Wilson asked.
I pointed at the WHIZ BANG™.
“Just stick him on an overturned box,” he said.
“Good thinking!” I looked around. “Squeak! Run and get a box! And make it fast.”
Squeak ran back a moment later with a box. “Here, Babymouse.”
“Go tell Henry to stand on it.”
A minute later, we were ready to go. Le finally.
Duckie clapped the slate. “Au Revoir, My Locker. Scene twelve, take one!”
“And…action!” I shouted.
After Henry calmed down, we got the shot and moved on. We started to get into a rhythm, running the set the way Ms. Octavia had suggested.
We crossed off the shot list one by one. We had to make a few changes on the fly.
I was especially worried about shooting the big ocean-crossing scene. I wanted it to look like the movie Titanic. Unfortunately, we didn’t have a Titanic budget. We had a bathtub budget.
Still, it didn’t look that bad: Wilson hung a backdrop of blue sky on the bathtub wall and used some of Squeak’s bathtub toys in the water.
But as I reviewed it, I realized it needed one more small touch to make it seem even more authentic.
“Turn on the shower,” I told Wilson. “It will look like ocean spray.”
“Not a bad idea,” he agreed.
It was perfect.
We got the shot in three takes—a first for the crew!
“All right!” Duckie announced. “Let’s break for dinner! There’s pizza in the kitchen.”
As everyone headed downstairs, I remembered my mother’s words about keeping the house clean.
“Squeak,” I told my Little, “clean up the bathroom.”
“But I’m hungry!” he whined.
“Too bad,” I said with a smirk. “You’re the one who wanted to be on the crew.”
The last shot of the day was on the front porch. It was supposed to be in front of a doorway in Paris, and Wilson had given it some great props.
We were in the middle of the third take when Felicia’s cell phone beeped.
BEEP!
She paused midshot to look down at it. Then she whispered something in Henry’s ear.
The next thing I knew, they were walking off the set. I ran after them.
“Hey! Where are you going? We’re in the middle of the scene!”
Felicia looked back and smirked. “Sorry, Babymouse. It’s Drama Club. Their lead just got stomach flu. They need me.”
Henry continued walking out with her.
“Henry? Where are you going?”
“Theater people know how to treat actors,” he huffed.
Then they were gone.
I couldn’t believe it. I looked at Wilson in shock. “We just lost our leads!”
“We’ll figure it out,” Wilson said. “Why don’t you go take a break. Grab a glass of water.”
I went into the kitchen. Squeak was sitting at the table, munching on pizza.
I wanted to cry. This was a disaster! I could practically feel the tears running from my eyes, and then I realized I wasn’t crying. Something wet was dripping on my cheeks.
I looked up and saw water pooling on the ceiling.
“Did you clean up the bathroom?” I asked.
“Yep,” Squeak said.
I looked at the ceiling and then back at him.
“Did you drain the tub and turn off the shower?”
He blinked. “You didn’t ask me to do that.”
There’s no word in French to describe the deep pit of fear in my stomach. Then again, I think horreur might work. (That’s “horror,” in case you’re wondering.)
My lead actors had quit. My parents were furious at me for flooding the house. And we were way behind schedule.
My dream of being Famous had gone straight down…the drain.
I couldn’t bear to face my crew at lunch, so I hid out in the library and surfed the Internet.
Typical.
I headed to my favorite website. It always had the latest Hollywood gossip.
SuperFamousPeople.com
There were the usual pictures of actors, TV show hosts, and athletes. The one thing they had in common was that paparazzi were always taking embarrassing photos of them. (Did none of them have the sense to fix their whiskers before going to the grocery store?)
An article leaped out at me.
I’d heard about this guy. He made some great movies about…uh, I forget.
His words bounced around in my head.
 
; They can’t pay for that kind of publicity.
It gave me an idea.
After school, I headed to a classroom where the sign on the open door said “Student Newspaper Club.”
I could hear raised voices.
“We can always do another exposé about how the lunch ladies are using cheddar instead of mozzarella on the pizza,” someone said.
“Or we can interview the science teacher about the frogs that escaped,” another person suggested. “I heard they only found one out of seventy.”
I peeked in.
There was a girl sitting on a desk in the front of the room. Before her in a semicircle were a bunch of other students.
“We need something big!” the girl insisted. “Something that will pull in readers! The story needs to have heart!”
“Excuse me,” I said with what I hoped was a winning smile. “I think I have an idea for your story.”
Everybody—and I mean everybody—was talking about me.
I was the front-page story in the student newspaper.
People called my name as I walked down the hallway.
“Babymouse! Hi, Babymouse! Oooh, Babymouse!”
I was suddenly popular. And, dare I say…Famous!
Duckie was waiting for me by my locker. He was holding a copy of the student newspaper, and he didn’t look happy.
“Babymouse,” Duckie said. “How could you say this?”
“Say what?”
He began reading. “Babymouse gave us an exclusive interview about her upcoming film. She told us the winning formula. ‘The most important ingredient is talent. And we have talented actors—Felicia and Henry.’ ” He held out his hands. “They quit, Babymouse! You lied.”
“I exaggerated,” I clarified. “Look, it’s all part of my plan.”