“I like what you guys do here.” I gestured to the walkie. “Offering people a safe place away from home. A place that might be even safer than their own home.”
Dakota nodded in agreement.
“So, I’d like to make a short doc centering around people who’ve come here and felt safe or haven’t,” I continued. My throat felt a little tight as I spoke because now, I was getting into the meat of my idea. He’d be the first person I pitched it to and I was sweating bullets already. “Interviews with people who have experience with assaults on college campuses or anything that they feel like they have to hide. Something that gives them a voice…”
My own voice faded out when I realized, I was closer to this topic than I initially thought. Last year, I didn’t feel like I could talk about what was happening. No matter how angry I got, no one was listening.
“I want to be a listener,” I finished in a lower tone.
After the break-up, there were people around me, but no one was hearing what I had to say. I felt like I was shouting pain into the void. If I could spare one person of that kind of loneliness, even for a second, I would.
“Most people want to be heard,” Dakota noted. I could feel his eyes studying me.
I shrugged. “I do. Or did. But I feel like listening could be better. That probably doesn’t make any sense, right? I’m rambling.”
“No, it makes sense, Emmy. Perfect sense.”
I looked up, and somehow, someway, he understood my unorganized thoughts. Dakota didn’t look confused in the slightest. I felt relief in not having to find the right words to get him to understand.
“Can I help you?” Dakota asked.
I let out a breath that turned into a laugh. “You don’t have to do that. I can’t let you do that.”
“I want to,” he insisted. “If you saw how much your eyes lit up when you told me about it, you’d understand.”
“I… thank you. I don’t currently have much more than a rough outline of how many people I want to interview. And I don’t have a clue where I’m going to film.”
“We’ll figure it out,” he promised with a nod. “I’m going to help you figure it out because I think I’m close to finding something that’ll make you happy enough to sing.”
I laughed. “Yeah, actually, you’re very warm.”
“Great.” He grinned. “Glad I’m on the right track.”
Chapter 12
Trafficoncampuswasthe nastiest I’d seen in my life. All roads seemed to lead to the stadium. Tailgating for the first game of a football season wasn’t rare. But in all my years of being the daughter of a coach and sister of a player, I hadn’t seen this many people deck out to cheer for their home team. Perhaps last year’s loss sparked a fire in their belly? Everyone loved an underdog — especially when theywerethe underdog.
I filmed my crowded walk to the stadium. Dad offered to let me drive with him and get a seat close to the team. I preferred having a more authentic experience. Especially since I wanted to start thinking about B-roll for my film.
Dakota’s offer to help made me ten times more excited than I would have been if I was tackling this project on my own. As soon as our shift was over, I went home to create a list of ideas. I would need a location for the interviews. Something private and cozy where the interviewees would feel safe. A basic list of entry questions needed to be made. Along with a thesis.
Make it personal, had been Dakota’s main advice. Something no one else could do.
My personal was messy, so I planned to make the project “personal adjacent.” Close enough to touch but not feel. That would have to be enough because I wasn’t ready for anything more.
When I got to the stands, the loud cheering and bright stadium lights made me ten times more alert. The crowd on Westbrooke’s side wore a mix of blue and white. Angel wings mounted various fans as they prepped to scream their lungs out for the team. I panned my camera, taking in everything I could and silently lamenting how most of this excitement wouldn’t translate on film.
“Hey, Emmy!” someone called.
A hand lifted in the stands, waving me over. I stopped panning and set my lens on Yara. Her large waving turned into something smaller when she realized I had a camera in hand.
“Sorry,” she said once I was close enough to hear her. “Didn’t mean to distract you from work.”
I shook my head. “It’s fine. Just a school project I’m getting ahead on.”
She still looked rueful as she tucked a twist behind her ear. “You want to join me? I hate these things, but David invited me and I’m trying to win a bet.”
“A bet?” I set my bag down in the empty seat beside her.
