Not that I really thought Olly Harvey had any qualms about being late for class.
Why would he? He’d always been the star sports player. You didn’t need academics if you had been born with the kind of body that could play sports.
I was out of breath by the time I burst through the doors of the class, quickly finding my spot as the professor got ready at the front of the room. I made it just in time, but my forehead was damp with sweat. I dried it off on my sleeve quickly as best I could, wishing I wasn’t built quite so weedy.
Then again, I was built for something else: academics. Learning. And I was happy with that. For a start, there was no having to worry about extra practice or getting on the team. I competed against only myself, and I was happy with it.
I hoped Olly didn’t make it onto the starting bench. Maybe he would lose his scholarship or drop out.
“Alright, class,” the professor said, calling us all to order, but my stomach dropped. I felt sick.
What a horrible thing to think! How could I wish him misery like that? He might have made my life a living hell before, but I wasn’t supposed to be stooping to his level. Maybe Clara was right to tell me not to let him antagonize me. I needed to get a grip.
I didn’t hope he dropped out. I took the wish back fervently. I hoped he did well – so well they put him in a special dorm for football players or something and then he wasn’t my problem anymore.
Yeah. That worked.
“So, our first project is going to be about getting your hands dirty,” the professor was saying, and I focused in on her, trying to block out all thoughts of Olly so I could concentrate. “We’ll start with our own film projects. As we learn week by week, you’ll pick up more tips and techniques to improve your production. You’re going to be learning on the job, filmmakers – and by the time you finish here at Crowhill Cove College, I hope you’ll look back on this first project and cringe.”
There was a smattering of laughter through the room. I liked that idea. Making something even though we knew it wouldn’t be perfect. It would be a project we could compare against our final project, too – showing how far we’d come.
Which only made me more determined to try to make sure that this project was as good as I could make it.
“This is a long-term project running the whole of the semester,” the professor continued. “So, you’re going to want to plan. You might do a documentary project, where you start filming now and do all your editing at the end. You might spend this time writing a script, finding actors and locations, and do all your filming and editing towards the end of the semester. Or you might just do everything now, get yourself some free time for the rest of the semester, and a project that’s only going to get you a D.”
More laughter through the room. I liked this professor. She knew how to entertain. That, in turn, had me excited about the kind of filmmaking techniques she could teach me.
It wasn’t like this was going to be my job when I graduated. I wanted to take this class for fun and to develop a hobby I could nerd out on after college. The more fun I could have with it, the better. And I had a really good feeling about this class.
“I want you to spend the rest of the class talking to the person next to you about what kind of project you can undertake,” the professor said, causing a stir of movement. I, too, looked to my left. There was another guy a short distance from me – one of the loners of the class, with long hair and a beanie pulled down low on his forehead. He didn’t look thrilled to be working with a partner, but I gave him a half-smile to show him I was nervous about it, too. “By the time we see each other next, I want you to have a solid idea in your head that you can talk about. Alright, get going.”
I took the initiative to pick up my things and slide a few seats down. “Hey. I’m Keaton,” I said.
“Like Buster?” my classmate replied.
I grinned. “Yeah. My sister’s called Clara. Like Clara Bow.”
He chuckled. “No wonder you ended up in film class. I’m Ace.”
“Like Ventura?”
He gave me a look. “We do not talk about those movies.”
“Noted,” I said. “So, you have any idea about what kind of project you’re going to make?”
“I’m going to write and direct a horror feature,” he said with confidence. So much confidence, I started to wonder whether I was prepared enough for this class.
“You’ve already thought about this, huh?” I asked.
“I love horror,” Ace said. “That’s why I’m taking this class. To learn how to make horror movies. So, yeah. Might as well start as I mean to go on.”
I nodded, trying to cover up the fact that I had no idea what I was going to do with curiosity about his project. “How do you come up with what’s scary? Hasn’t it all been done before?”
“No, there’s plenty of nightmare fuel out there,” he grinned. “I think about what scares me. Things that have happened to me that left my heart pounding. Times I thought I was going to die or get hurt real bad.”
I thought back in my own head.
The flash that came to my mind was a bad one.
