The cart is really full. It takes me a while to maneuver it to the front of the warehouse. Doug nods in approval when he sees my choices.
“Ahhh, the magic of moviemaking.” He picks up a giant boulder and hoists it over his head. “You should have some fun with these.”
While Jerry makes a precise list of every item I’m taking, Dad makes his own list—of how I have to be 100 percent responsible for each prop, how each of them would cost a lot of money to replace, how Doug is doing me a favor, blah blah blah. It’s usually the kind of speech I tune out but because I’m so eager to start making content, I listen and agree to everything Dad says.
On the way home, he continues in suggestion mode by recommending that I storyboard the show before I start shooting. This time, I don’t even pretend to listen because I’m thinking about setting up my camera the second we arrive.
PRE-PRODUCTION
It takes a lot of fiddling around but after several tries, I finally figure out the best placement of the camera. Then I dig out a fake mustache from the Halloween box in the garage and slick my hair back to create the look for my new on-screen weight lifter—THE TANK. The joke is that in real life, I’m a skinny kid with barely any muscles, but with these fake weights it’ll look like I’m lifting three hundred pounds. I test out a few different accents but decide to just use a lower version of my regular voice. A gray hooded sweatshirt, gym shorts, and sneakers round out my character’s outfit. As I rehearse in my room, Bodi’s not sure what’s going on and eventually crawls underneath my bed to get away from all the action.
The beige walls of my room make a boring background so I ask Mom if there are any old bedsheets I can paint to make a backdrop. She rummages through the hall closet and gives me a sheet from when I was little, covered with clouds and turtles. When I tell her I need a plain sheet, she finds a peach one for me to use. Peach isn’t the ideal color for a bodybuilder but when you’re scrounging for props, you can’t be fussy. She helps me hold the sheet up while I tape it to the wall to paint it.
“You need a drop cloth,” she says, “so you don’t get paint everywhere.”
It takes a while to get the room ready and even longer to paint the words and background. I don’t care if this is WAY more work than just talking into a webcam—I’m determined to have one of the best videos in class.
Teachers and parents have always told me how creative and imaginative I am, however those qualities are unfortunately difficult to measure in school. I do well in a few subjects, but since so many of them involve reading, it’s often hard for me to keep up with the rest of the pack. I can look at a globe and easily tell latitude from longitude, yet seeing those words in a textbook is a different thing altogether. This YouTube class is a way for me to shine, so I take my time making sure everything is perfect.
After spending hours on pre-production (that’s what they call it in the business) I’m ready to shoot. The actual filming takes less than an hour, but when you add it all up, this is much more time than I usually spend on homework. I’m relieved when I play back the video and laugh out loud at how ludicrous I seem. With some minor edits, I can tell by looking at the first pass that I’ve got a winner.
Even though I’m exhausted, I toss and turn all night, excited to show off my work tomorrow.
VIEWING PARTY
At school the next day, all Ms. Miller can talk about is the upcoming eclipse. I guess in ancient times, people used to freak out when the moon suddenly disappeared and thought demons were involved. She makes us write down what time it will occur so we can see it, but as soon as she says it’s at 3:00 in the morning, I just move my pen across my notebook as if I’m writing it down but don’t. There are plenty of things worth waking up for in the middle of the night, and watching the moon play hide-and-seek isn’t one of them.
Umberto skids over to me in the hall. “Wait till you see my vlog,” he says. “It came out GREAT.”
I do a double take—Umberto’s now sporting a GoPro camera on his head like Mr. Ennis. I wave to the camera and make a bunch of stupid faces until he tells me the camera’s not on.
As we head to class, Umberto skids to another halt when we spot Mr. Ennis. His long blond hair is gone, leaving nothing but a shiny bald head—and his headband with a camera.
He runs his hand over his scalp. “It was a spur-of-the-moment decision. I’m still getting used to it.”
Umberto and I try not to stare; when Matt joins us, he bursts out laughing.
“You look like Lord Voldemort!” Matt says.
“Then prepare to be vanquished!” Mr. Ennis smiles before he goes inside but the look in his eyes tells me even though he’s joking around, Matt’s comment was an unwelcome one.
“You realize you just insulted the guy who’s grading us,” I remind him.
“My video’s primo,” Matt answers. “I could run him over with my skateboard and still get an A.”
“Highly doubtful,” Umberto says.
In the room, the class asks another fifty questions about Mr. Ennis’s hair before we finally get down to screening
