by Nora Cobb
“This is nice,” smiles head admin Rudi McCoy as she hands me the application packet. “If you have any questions, dear, come back and ask.”
I have one unrelated question. “By the way, can day students use the resident center?”
“Yes,” she replies, “as long as they have a current student ID.”
Dom’s a dickhead, and now, I know it.
Principal Jagan Parks pokes his head out of his office, the only room with a door. He has a huge smile on his tanned face. Big, blond, and super friendly like a loyal sheepdog—a frown has no place on his face. If I were casting a West Coast stereotype, he’d have the lead based on looks alone. In real life, Jagan had a bit part in a Tarantino movie but realized early on that he wanted to teach. He hasn’t given up acting quite yet. He plays the part of an enlightened airhead at Redwood, but the man knows the numbers and which parents are making the largest donations.
“Vicki, I’m proud of you, man,” he clasps my hands in his huge one. “This is great, running for president, I always worry about day students not participating with the school except for classes, but this is amazing. You won’t be scurrying home at the end of the day.”
Oh boy, if only he knew why I’m running, but that’s my business. I haven’t done anything yet, but I have big plans.
“How’s your dad, Greg? What a nice man. So peaceful and giving. It must be nice to live with him. His voice is soothing, and I can’t imagine him ever raising it, though I’m sure he could, but hopefully to sing.”
“He’s fine.”
“And how are you adjusting to the weather? You want to wear sunscreen every day, even when it’s cloudy, but there’s nothing wrong with closing your eyes and pointing your face towards the sun,” he takes a deep breath, “and saying I greet you in a loud, strong voice.”
“Thanks, I’ll try that.”
He looks me hard in the eyes. That look is more intense than a lie detector.
“Everything is fine,” I rush to tell him.
He smiles at Rudi, and she smiles back—tightly. It must be interesting working with light and love all day.
He grasps my hand harder, preventing a quick getaway. “I’m glad to see you’re fitting in, but don’t lose that spark of creativity. Fit in, but be original even in this smallest way. You’re going to shine like a star.”
Yeah. One in a million, surrounded by the other stars in the galaxy. What kind of freaking bullshit is this? I get what he means. But in real life, if you don’t succeed at being different, you get the weirdo label.
“Well,” I yank my hands out of his, “I’m off to class—Video on the Move.”
He put his hands together, palms touching. “You’re doing great, Vicki.”
I wait a moment, but he’s finished with that thought.
“Thanks.” And I hurry out of the room.
***
That night, I work on the graphics for my campaign posters while texting Luna and Theo for their opinion. I come up with a simple vector design. My slogan is V for Victory. It’s a play on my name, and I make it clear that my platform is anti-bullying.
In the morning, I march into the resident center and hang my first poster next to one for Silas Vinson. I look it over. “A little cheesy,” I mumble to myself.
On his poster, he has a photo of himself when he was a kid. According to IMDB, Silas was a child actor on a family drama about a college basketball coach. Today, he’s not quite washed up, but definitely switching careers. His corny slogan references his old show—“Aim to shoot straight.”
Whatever.
“You can’t hang that there,” a loud voice says behind me.
I swing around and face Silas. He looks surprised to see it’s me. He was expecting dirty blond hair, flannel, and ankle boots.
Silas recovers quickly. “You cleaned up nicely.”
“Look, it’s Leave it to Beaver,” I reply sarcastically. “Or maybe that’s not your taste. Can’t make up your mind? By the way, where is your boy?”
Silas narrows his eyes, and he takes the easy bait. In a flash, the motherfucker pulls down my poster. Sneering, he hands it to me. Auburn hair, deep green eyes, and a square jaw; he would be handsome if he quit with the evil looks.
Turnabout is fair play. I grab it out of his hands and then rip his poster down. I turn around and hand it to him with a smirk. He looks surprised, but he masks his emotions quickly with a calculated grin.
“I’m doing you a favor,” he says, taking a step too close. “So, why don’t you swim back to the Jersey Shore before it’s too late?”
“Don’t pretend you give a shit,” I shoot back. “You think you’re better? Prove it to your sheep because you can’t impress me.” I must be insane, but challenging Silas revs me up. I never thought I’d be the underdog, but fear is giving me a different high.
“You’ve got to do more than hang a poster.” He eyes me a second longer than he should. His gaze lands on my lips and then my eyes. “Who’s backing you?”
“I’ve got supporters.”
He scoffs. “You didn’t read the rules.” He walks away with his poster. “If you can read.”
Banging a stapler against the wall, I hang my poster up again, hitting all four corners. I start to walk away, and a few kids ask for the V buttons I have pinned to my T-shirt. Last night, Theo helped make them based on the anime sketches he had drawn of me. Anime Vicki is holding opposite sides of the V while doing a split.
Luna catches up as I exit the main door. “Did you get that?” I ask.
She holds up the phone and replays the video of Silas pulling down my poster. A split second later, I pull down his.
“We can edit that out,” she says.
“No, leave it in. It shows the real message I want to deliver. I’m not tolerating any shit, and neither should anyone else.”
Chapter Four
“So, this is how you live, Vicki.” Theo turns around, taking it all in. “They wouldn’t call you Dumpster Mouth if they saw this.”
“Theo,” Luna glares.
“What?” he asks. “Silly children can be petty. Give us a tour, Vicki.”
My new home is perched on the side of a mountain, with a view of the valley for miles. Most of the houses are second homes and a modest size. But our house is twice the size of the average house in the area, though it does have the same A-frame construction. The wood is stained a honey brown, and huge picture windows let in the morning sun. There’s a twenty-acre wood behind the house with trails, and a well with the purest spring water I’ve ever tasted.
We end up in the kitchen, where Dad is hanging out with his laptop and eating a salad. The salad is seven cups of kale with a tomato, and he eats it daily like a rabbit.
“Don’t laugh,” he warns as I turn up my nose. “You’ll be over forty someday, and you’ll be eating like this too.”
I look at him. “Forty?”
“Don’t start, sweetie,” he replies, “or Santa will write it down on his naughty list.”
Luna and Theo glance at each other.
“I get my wit from my father,” I explain. “Dad, this is Theo and Luna.”
Dad wipes his hands on a dish towel and then offers it to Theo and then Luna.
“Nice to meet you both, and we have other food in the house.” Dad picks up his laptop. “You can stay.”
“Dad,” I hold out my hands. “You can stay too.”
“I don’t want to distract you,” he smiles, “I’m sure you have homework to do. Vicki, place an order if you want to for takeout.”
“Do you want anything?” I ask.
“Yes, a pizza with all the toppings.” Dad winks as he walks out of the kitchen door.
“Your dad is cute,” Luna looks at the door Dad just walked through.
“Come on, dream team.” I pull her by the arm to the kitchen table. “Let’s focus.”
We sit in the built-in breakfast nook. It looks like an old-fashioned diner booth with tall-backed wooden benches a
nd plenty of cushions in blues and creams. Tucked in a corner by a large window, it’s one of the features that sold the house.
“I read over the rules.” Theo pulls a paper out of his messenger bag. “You must be a part of and be sponsored by an existing club to run for student council.”
“No wonder Silas was smirking.” I shake my head. “Do I have time to join a club?”
“Yes.” Theo’s expression lights up. “That’s the thing. In September, the clubs are looking for new members to replace the seniors who graduated. We just have to pick the right club that will back you.”
“You can’t just show up,” adds Luna. “You have to prove you belong.”
I scan through my mind, recalling everything I’ve worked on lately. I don’t have a portfolio packed with three years of school projects like the other seniors. At that moment, I realize how little I’m prepared. My film spoofs won’t impress this high-art crowd, so my camping trip is my best bet.
“The best thing I have is some video I shot on my phone of the Santa Monica Mountains.”
“Let’s see it,” replies Theo, taking his bag off the table.
We watch shots of the landscape and close-ups of flowers in silence. Dad explains native plants using their Latin names. It’s a hobby of his. In one scene, he narrates the view and explains the formation of rock, using the side of a cliff as his demonstration.
He’s in the shot, and he scowls. “Vicki, I love you, but if this ends up online … You’ll be living here.” The scene cuts away.
“The cinematography club would be your best bet,” says Theo.
“Not with those tech geeks,” I reply. “I don’t know much about working a legit camera. And I’ll prove it as soon as I speak.”
“Do you draw anime?” he asks.
“Nope,” I shrug, pursing my lips.
“Can you act, draw, sculpt, or sing?” he continues, tapping a pencil on the table with each syllable.
I stare hard at him to make him stop. “I’m only interested in directing and editing.”
“The only trouble is Dom might belong to the club,” adds Theo softly.
I sigh as my brilliant plan falls apart. “I’ll join anything else.”
“Honestly, Vicki,” says Luna, “even if you weren’t running, cinematography is the way to go. You’ll learn stuff you won’t learn in class, and you’ll be seeing those people again after graduation. You better learn now how to coexist with Dom because he’s in the industry you want to be in.”
Chapter Five
It’s Friday afternoon, and though my first two weeks weren’t stellar, they were okay. Since I already completed my college prep classes at Montlake, I’m able to focus only on my film major. Unfortunately, Theo and Luna have different majors in different buildings.
Yeah, I get teased a little for my Jersey accent, but I give it right back. Thankfully, classes are too hard for too much nonsense. No one has time to focus on me, and group projects haven’t been assigned, so that “pick me” drama hasn’t started.
Friday afternoon, I hurry into the media building named after Truman Pascall, who funded it. The cinematography club meets in the basement in room 004, and it’s a rat’s maze to find it. I hear laughter echoing down the hallway, and I follow the sound to the room. There are a few kids gathered for the club meeting. They glance over at me and continue their conversation. It’s not rude, just casual indifference, and that eases my stomach. Though I may be ready to sass, I hate speaking in public.
A thin boy walks over to me with a clipboard. “Are you here for the cinematography club?” He smiles when I nod. “Sign in every week, so you can get credit for the class. Need a pen?”
He holds one out, and I take it. “Thanks.”
He looks over my shoulder as I print my name and the date.
“Oh, Vicki,” he smiles. “Is that short for Victoria?”
“It’s Vicki. Just call me Vicki.” Internally, I cringe when I hear my full name. It’s like nails scratching an old-fashioned chalkboard.
“Okay then, Vicki. My name’s Neil.” Neil has a firm handshake. “You’re the one running for president. Cool posters. They remind me of V for Vendetta but without the mask.” The others join in our conversation, commenting on the movie. “Hey, guys,” Neil interrupts the growing cacophony. “Introductions are needed.”
A pretty girl with short hair waves her hand. “Paloma. I agree with your posters. Bullying isn’t a big problem, but it exists.”
“Liam.” A massive guy shakes my hand and arm. “It’s not a problem if you keep your head down.” He notes my surprise. “They go after the brain, not the brawn.”
“Rosie Pine.” A strawberry blonde laughs as she says her name. “No jokes, please. I get teased enough. If you’re not on the list, you’re gonna have it hard anyway.”
“The list?” I ask. She has my attention over the chatter.
“You know, the in crowd,” explains Neil. “It isn’t a physical list, but the select few who are invited to the insider parties learn about the industry jobs first and have the in. You want to make fast friends around here, find out how to get on that list, and share the info.”
I absorb it all, determined to make friends. “Hey, you guys want buttons?”
I zip open my bag and hand them out. One girl holds it up to her T-shirt but doesn’t put it on. I receive a few more introductions as I practice campaigning. It’s a real eye-opener. I have my own agenda, but it seems a lot of students could use a break. We’re completely in sync on this issue that seems to touch a lot more people than I realized.
“I’d think people would be too busy on their projects to bully,” I comment.
“You’d think,” says Paloma. “It’s like they’re executives in training.”
We’re engrossed in conversation until the atmosphere in the room shifts. I don’t see Dom walk in—my back is facing the door—but they do. They put the buttons out of sight, and the conversation trickles to nothing. Dom eyes me as he walks to the front, but I ignore him.
“Ready to start?” he asks. “I have a few announcements.”
Fuck. Not only is Dom in the club, but he’s the president. I thought it was Neil. I want to bang my forehead against the desk. It was too perfect and fun to last. It’s too late to join another club, but I don’t want to quit this one. I need to learn the industry, and I only have a year.
“Vicki,” Dom calls on me. “You’re new. Do you have anything to show us?”
I nod as I get up from my chair. Some people hate going first, but I prefer it. I hate the thought of following someone who has a stellar project. I’d rather be the brave one. I pull out my phone. “Do you have a monitor I can use?”
I’m surprised that Dom actually helps me set up my phone. He’s not acting like a dickhead, but he’s not being super friendly either. Maybe we can coexist civilly.
“You want to introduce it?” he asks.
I stand in front and feel a little shy about public speaking. Time to get over it. “I spent a lot of time camping this summer. I took the best clips and made them into a short film. My father narrates it.” I look at the faces watching me and mentally hope they won’t laugh or fall asleep.
The clip starts on a shot of the Santa Monica Mountains and pans over toward the Pacific Ocean on the horizon. It’s followed by a close-up of flowers native to the area. Dad talks about each plant, pointing out interesting factoids. Then he swears like a sailor when he accidentally touches a thorn. It gets a few laughs. He moves onto another plant and describes it in technical terms that a geek would appreciate. Then I pan over to some trash on the ground, and he has stronger words to say about that. This is the first time I’ve watched it on a big screen, and it’s pretty good. Dad is entertaining, and even though he’s not always on camera, one gets a real sense of who he is—a down-to-earth guy who appreciates his natural surroundings.
“Hey, Dom,” says Dad. “Can you stand by that tree for scale?”
I hold my breath
. In the video, Dom points to the tree and asks Dad some really astute questions. Dad praises him before answering. And then we’re onto the next plant.
“Dad, I’m shooting,” I whine.
“Let Dom hold the camera, Vicki. I need someone small to scale that cliff and get that flower.”
“Are you nuts? What if I fall to my death?”
Dad laughs. “Oh, it’s not that long of a drop, and there’s a bush at the bottom. Aim for the bush.”
Dom gazes at the camera and then smiles. That was for me. He liked me back then, and now, the thought that he hates me for no reason stabs me in the gut.