The projector screen at the back of the room flickered to life. I felt bad – like a bad friend – because I could barely concentrate. I’d seen Ace’s film coming together bit by bit, anyway, since we often worked next to each other in the lab. I paid just enough attention to be able to clap and congratulate him when it finished, and that was it.
“A strong start,” the professor praised. “Well, up next we have Keaton’s project.”
My gut twisted. No. Not yet. I couldn’t be second. She must have made a mistake. Right?
The opening shot of my documentary flared to life on the screen and I sank lower in my chair, only just resisting the urge to cover my face.
Under the bench-like table that ran the length of the seating, where no one could see, Olly reached down and held my hand.
I had seen every shot so many times it was almost impossible to tell if they were good anymore. But watching them with other people, imagining what others were seeing as they watched, helped me get a tiny bit of a different perspective.
“My name is Oliver Harvey, and I’m a football player at Crowhill Cove College,”he said on the screen. “I’m here on a partial scholarship.”
“What does that mean?”I asked from behind the camera.
The Olly in the documentary wiped his palm on his leg. The shot cut to him tackling someone on the field at practice – before the bad one. Then back to him, looking down.“I wasn’t as good at football as they wanted.”
It set the tone for the rest of the film. I’d created an indictment of college sports culture, of the pressure that was put on young athletes to perform on the field while keeping up academically.
I stole a glance sideways at Olly. Was he going to be pissed off that I’d gone with that angle? Was he going to think it looked bad to his Coach or to other teams that might want to recruit him in the future?
Everyone in the room winced when he went down in practice and started crying out in pain. They traveled with me as he was stretchered away, then watched him being told he wasn’t going to be able to play for weeks. They saw the pain on his face that had nothing to do with the actual injury. They watched as he hobbled about on his crutches and received the news that he did, indeed, have dyscalculia.
They saw flashes of him angry, frustrated, feeling stupid because he couldn’t keep up in class. There were segments I had filmed without him knowing: his empty bed, then a pan to the clock to show how late at night it was before he came in through the door in workout gear.
But at the end, there was an uplifting sequence. It started with Olly being told he could play again, the absolute joy in his eyes – I’d cut out the way he had shifted to uncomfortable right afterward. Then he was training, getting stronger, walking without his crutches - and finally celebrating wildly with his teammates at the end of the game.
The screen faded to black before the credits started to roll, and applause burst out all around the room.
There was only one person’s opinion I cared about.
I looked up at Olly shyly, afraid that he was going to be angry with the way I had shown him.
“That’s how you see me?” he murmured. There was awe in his eyes. He was clapping along with everyone else.
I nodded just once. He broke out into a grin.
“Great work, Keaton,” the professor nodded at me. I squirmed in my chair under the praise. “Alright, next we have Julia’s piece…”
I couldn’t concentrate for the rest of the session. Not because I was nervous, anymore – but because I was excited. It had been received well. Olly had looked at me with a mixture of amazement, pride, wonder, and – something else I couldn’t yet name. Something way more intense. Like the way he looked at me when he wanted to make out, but stronger. And I had seen him looking at me like he wanted to make out a lot lately – and every time, I was only too happy to oblige.
And by the way he kept glancing over at me during all of the other presentations we watched, I had a feeling it wasn’t going to be long before we were going to have to find a way to sneak out.
“That’s time for a break,” the professor said, clapping her hands. “We’ve had a lot of watching to sit through. I want everyone back in half an hour to carry on watching the rest of the folks who’ve been waiting patiently. Don’t sneak out and not come back, okay? It’s rude.”
There was more laughter along with general stretching and standing.
“I’m going to get some snacks,” Ace said. “You want anything?”
“Yeah,” I said. “Some kind of candy or something. I need sugar.”
“I’ll take some fruit,” Olly suggested. “A banana or an orange or something.”
“I’ll see what I can do,” Ace said, giving Olly an askance look like he hadn’t meant to offer it to both of us. I held back a smile. I’d noticed Ace hadn’t really made any friends in the class other than me – he wasn’t as open as I was. “I’ll let you know how much you owe me when I get back.”
I nodded and chuckled. He made his way out of the room, disappearing down the rows of seating and then joining the flow of people leaving. I got up, raising my eyebrows at Olly. “What do you want to do?”
His eyes flashed fire at me, and I knew beyond a doubtexactlywhat he wanted to do.
