I frown at the screen in front of me. “I’ve been stuck here for five hours, only to realize that it’s the ending that’s the problem?” The ending was supposed to have a twist, where Stella is revealed to be the bad guy.
The unspoken villain in the story.
It’s mostly a silent video with ominous music that I hired a student composer to create, playing in the background. Most of my actors who starred in this film—except Stella, of course—graduated early and were just looking for something to fill the time.
“Right now, I can only imagine reshooting the ending,” I sigh in defeat, my body slumped in my chair. The idea of doing another take of a scene that I filmed a few months ago seems daunting, especially trying to round up the rest of my actors.
“At least you don’t need everyone,” Stella pipes up. “Just me and Dean.”
“Dean’s in Massachusetts,” I point out.
She frowns. “Okay, that’s a bummer. Well, we just need to find another actor.”
“How are we going to find an actor at the last minute?” Just as the sentence leaves my mouth, a light bulb turns on in my head, and the gears begin to shift. We’re in a university known for educating former celebrities and actors trying to break into Hollywood.
And I know just the person to ask.
“On second thought,” Stella says. “Don’t tell me.”
I pat the top of her vibrant red hair. “Don’t worry, I’m not planning a crime scene.”
“Carly, with the film you’re editing, you might as well be.”
Once I arrive in my apartment, I fall on the floor, grab one of the throw pillows on the couch, and scream into it.
“Do you need a doctor?” Ali jokes. Lying on the floor is fairly common in our apartment when either Ali or I has a crisis.
I shake my head, the throw pillow lightly scratching my face. “I just need food. We’re out of mangoes, and I smell takeout.”
“You can have the rest of my egg rolls.”
I roll myself over, facing my best friend, who holds out a plate of egg rolls. “Thanks, Ali-cat,” I hum, taking two from the plate and biting into one.
“Everything go well with your project?” She asks, sitting down next to me.
After swallowing the bite, I shake my head. “I need to re-record the final scene.”
She frowns. “That’s too bad. At least it shouldn’t take a while, right? Like last time?” Ali helped out on set the night I filmedit. She knew how many takes it took to get the ending just right, because I would stop at nothing for my craft.
“Except that almost everyone I worked with had already graduated early or left the state.” I take another bite of my egg roll, hoping to calm my nerves. “I would be starting over from scratch.”
“Vinny and I can help,” she suggests. “I’ll force him along.”
“You don’t have to—”
“Carly,” she stops me. “I would be glad to help again. You’re my best friend—do you think I wouldn’t do anything for you?”
I didn’t think she would offer a second time.
Who am I to question my friendship with Ali, one that transcends back to my “troublemaking” days? She was there for me when teachers believed I was misbehaving, when my family didn’t know what was wrong with me. She was there when I received my late diagnosis and supported me when I chose to go on Adderall. My times were hard, but she was the friend who made it all better. That’s Ali for you—the caring big sister to my chaotic little sister.
“And with Vinny helping, we’ll get Crew.”
I snort at the response. “Not possible.”
“Crew would help,” she insists.
Shaking my head in disagreement, I take another bite of my egg roll. “Crew doesn’t like me.”He likes you, I think to myself. There’s no way those words are leaving my mouth.
