As she stands up, she gives me an understanding glance. “Everyone is hiding something, Movie Star.”
Is that supposed to be assuring?
“And this conversation,” Carly continues, ignoring whatever unease is on my face—that she could easily find, most likely. “Will stay between us. If it gets out somewhere, it won’t be because of me.” She pats my shoulder before standing up and grabbing her bag. “This was a nice chat, Movie Star, but I should get going.”
She grabs my cap, placing it back onto my head, adjusting it slightly so that it rests askew above my hair, which I somehow find comforting, and heads off in the direction of one of the parking structures.
While I stay seated by the building, watching her tall frame disappear in the distance, my curiosity piques.
Should I find it in me to trust her?
6
I Need Help
Carly
My Capstone project was split into two classes.
It’s pretty standard for the university’s film program, and it’s technically not called a Capstone project—I just call it that to make it easier to explain my coursework to my family whenever they ask. It’s the senior thesis, but I think Capstone sounds cooler.
This class is my post-production part of the Capstone. The filming has wrapped, and all that’s left is to put everything I’ve worked on for my entire fall quarter together in one video.
It’s a twelve-minute long short film that will be presented to the board and we were given creative freedom within the guidelines of the university. So, I couldn’t use as much fake blood as I planned before.
Yes, fake blood. Made out of chocolate syrup, glycerin, and a shit ton of Red-40.
My headphones are practically glued to my head, my eyes on the screen as I try to splice clips together and match the audio. I love the production part of filmmaking because it’s interactive and, as the ambivert that I am, I get to talk to people.
Pre-production? Awesome, because that means brainstorming ideas on how we can capture scenes.
The filming process? Even better. More brainstorming, and I have an excuse to touch the fancy cameras the school provides us with.
Post-production, however? That’s the sole reason I need Adderall in the first place. Lots of it, along with water, snacks, and sunlight. I like to consider myself an overly excited puppy, but keep me contained?
I will go fucking crazy. I need space, fresh air, for crying out loud.
As of now, I’m running on my morning dose of Adderall and…
Something’s still fucking wrong.
Checking the clock on my phone, I notice that I’ve been here for around…five hours. Wow, that’s got to be my personal best. I got to the lab at around ten in the morning, and all my snacks are finished, my water bottle half-full—with the ice melted—and yet almost nothing about my current project changed in the time I spent staring at my screen.
“Knock, knock.” I turn my head away from the computer to find a head of bright red hair. My friend Stella Soul makes herself comfortable in the seat next to me. Since I’m the only film student crazy enough to come to school on a Saturday, my professor, who oversees the computer lab, allowed me to come in during his office hours and work on it. He has since left, and I have been sitting here since.
I breathe a sigh of relief. “Thanks for coming, Stella. I need help.”
And who better to help me than the girl starring in my Capstone project? I approached Stella back in the fall, thinking she would be the perfect actress to portray my unspoken villain. She had already acted in the horror genre before this project,and working with her was exhilarating because we would always spitball ideas on how to make her character more nuanced.
Yes, this is a school assignment, but it’s also a gateway. I want to show that I’m a director worth working with. My professors aren’t the only people who will watch this film. This is going up on the internet after I get the go-ahead.
“Do you see something wrong with this?” I start the video from the beginning and give her the headphones. Stella watches the film intently, and when it’s over, she turns to me with a smile.
“First of all, it’s amazing,” she gushes. “You are going to kill it.” Her nose scrunches, the gold septum ring moving with it. “That was a bad pun.”
We laugh.
“However,” she continues. “I don’t know about the ending. Everything else, though? It’s perfect.”
