“Story,” Mateo said, “is all about point of view. If you don’t know who’s telling the story, how will you know what to film first? How will you know what to emphasize, how to light the screen, and which is going to be the magical shot that takes the work from ordinary to extraordinary?”
He turned off the screen. “Now that I have your attention, let’s talk about the class. I’ll be lecturing this morning, showing you examples of the techniques I want us to focus on. This afternoon we’ll start filming. You’ll have an hour to work on your projects, then we’ll screen some of the best submissions, viewing them frame by frame to understand what worked and why.”
Jelli leaned over and whispered, “Where’s your camera bag?”
Her what? Shannon swallowed. “I, ah, left it in the car.”
Jelli looked horrified. “What if it gets stolen?”
“I’m sure it’s fine.”
Jelli moved her bag a little closer to her, as if afraid by association.
Mateo spoke for the next two hours. While the other students carefully took notes on their laptops and stared intently at the film clips, Shannon was left making the odd notation on her phone. While she could see the beauty in the clips, she didn’t understand why one was better than another. Mateo explained it all, but she didn’t have the same vocabulary as the other students, who asked questions in a shorthand she couldn’t master. Thankfully a little after ten he dismissed them for a twenty-minute break. She got up, thinking she should just go to her car and drive away. The class had been a complete mistake. But before she could escape, Mateo asked to speak with her.
Swallowing hard, she made her way to the front of the room. Several of the students watched, including Jelli, who stared wide-eyed.
“Hello,” he said, watching her approach. “You didn’t submit anything ahead of time. Did you bring work with you for me to see?”
“I didn’t,” she whispered. “I’m sorry. I didn’t know I was supposed to.” She couldn’t read his expression, but he didn’t look happy.
He frowned. “How can you not have work to show me? Aren’t you proud of what you do? Don’t you want to defend your film and tell me why you know you’re right? Where’s your ego? In this business, you have to be willing to learn as much as you can, but at the same time believe in your gut that you’re just a little bit better than everyone else.”
As she always felt she was the one who didn’t know where she belonged, the concept of being the best was more than foreign—it was impossible.
“In my seminars, talent matters,” he continued. “Ava asked me for a favor. I said yes because her foundation supports mypartner’s work, and I appreciate that. She’s a smart, strong woman and I knew she wouldn’t have contacted me without a reason.”
She felt smaller with each word and tried not to hunch over.
He looked at her. “Why are you here, Shannon?”
“I shouldn’t be.” She pressed her lips together. “I’m sorry. I’m not like them. I don’t know half of what you’ve been talking about. I’m not a video person. This was a big mistake, and I apologize for taking up your time.”
He surprised her by smiling. “I appreciate your honesty and the fact that you don’t want to waste any more of my time. Goodbye.”
With that, he walked away. Shannon clutched her bag tightly and hurried to the parking lot. When she got in her car, she told herself this was a good thing. She had a found weekend, so yay her. Only it didn’t feel like a win at all. It felt like one more area where she’d failed.
Tears burned, but she blinked them away. One day she would figure it out, she vowed. One day she would know exactly what she wanted from her life, and the second she got what it was, she would throw herself into the process, no matter the obstacles. She would be like those teenagers in the class. All-in and fearless. One day, for sure.
21
Victoria turned back and forth, showing off her walking cast. “Finally,” she grumbled. “I thought Dr. Chi was going to keep me on crutches forever.”
Her father put his arm around her as they walked toward the restaurant. “Maybe that’s because he knows you can’t be trusted to follow his instructions.”
“That was one time,” she protested. “I’m mostly compliant.”
“You were on the balance beam with a broken arm and you fell, reinjuring yourself. You needed surgery.”
His tone was mild, his glance affectionate.
“I was seven,” she reminded him. “That was a long time ago. Dr. Chi needs to start trusting me.”
“Trust has to be earned, my sweet girl.”
“Whatever,” she muttered as they stepped inside. “I have it now. I love being mobile.”
The walking cast was taking a bit to get used to, but she was fine with that. Anything was better than crutches. Dr. Chi had lectured her on following the rules, which she planned to do. If he was here right now, she would point out that she was wearing the ugly, thick-soled shoe that evened up her legs so she was able to square her hips as she walked. And she was taking the ridiculously short strides the walking cast required. This was her—star patient. She should get a plaque.
