by Erin Dionne
This is it. I’m done with being Hess the Mess.
Twirl left, back around past zero, twirl right, then left again. I pop open the door and smoosh everything back in.
Then I purge. I grab handfuls of paper, scan the tops—science test from March, Spanish verbs from February, two science lab reports, a zillion notices—and pitch them. Out goes a very wrinkly apple. More papers. A green orange. I find a lip gloss tube with the top missing, and a bunch of language arts papers come out with an oily stain on them. The deeper I go, the more I uncover:
Flyers for the Christmas craft fair.
Social studies notes from November.
A zip-top plastic bag with a flat, moldy, green … sandwich? … in it.
And page after page of notes and papers. I’d be embarrassed if I weren’t so mad at myself. How did things get so out of control?
A few tears come, and I let them. They are good tears, like I’m finally letting go of the Hess who couldn’t make choices for herself. I even find a packet of tissues to wipe my eyes with.
I scoop and toss everything in the barrel, until the smooth metal bottom of my locker is visible.
Well, it’s not actually smooth. There’s some dark-colored, sticky gunk crusted on the left corner, but that’s okay. I’m not perfect, either.
I stack my books neatly, my lunch on top of them. I even put the folders for my morning classes in there. My backpack is lighter when I pick it up. I drag the barrel to the other side of the hall and stand back to admire my neat, organized locker.
A low whistle makes me jump. It’s Mr. Sinclair, who ninja’d himself right next to me while I was ogling my beautiful locker.
“Nice job, Hess! And good timing, too.” He fans the locker violation ticket pad in front of me.
“It might not stay this way,” I say, knowing that if I feel overwhelmed I won’t be able to keep it up.
“It might not,” he says. “But you can stop and fix it before it gets scary.” He smiles.
I smile, too. My EFD might make keeping my locker neat extra hard, but that just means I have to work extra hard and fight the mess. I don’t have to let it get this bad again. I don’t have to.
That’s not part of my story.
A single spotlight shines on the stage. My stomach knots just looking at it. I’m so glad I’m in a regular uncomfortable seat with Zada next to me.
But I can’t stop checking out the stage setup, deciding how I’d do it differently—the lights are too bright; they need a filter. The sign for the Hoot hangs too low in the back, so kids’ heads will block it and shadows from the lights will stand out on it, which is a total distraction. Didn’t Professor Crabbe help out with this stuff?
Miss Vogel steps into the spotlight. She squints.
“Welcome to the Howard Hoffer Hoot!”
People cheer so loud, my ears get a buzzy sound that I bet will hang around until tomorrow. It takes me a few seconds to realize that I’m screaming and clapping along with everyone else.
She waves her arms a bunch of times to get us to quiet down. Finally, we settle. Even though my movie is at the end, I’m on the edge of my seat.
She announces the first act, which is a lame skit put on by some sixth graders. Only their parents laugh.
Then come some routines by the Co’Mo’Shun Club. The whole time, Zada nods her head to the beat. The dancing is okay, but the sound guy has the speakers jacked way too loud and the music crackles.
“I liked that one,” Zada whispers to me.
“I can tell,” I whisper back.
I tune out for the next few acts. One of them is supposed to be funny, but it’s just a bunch of guys spraying one another with squirty string and saying movie lines—half of which they get wrong.
(For the record, it’s “Eat your food, Tina,” not “Tina, here’s your food.”)
Lame.
Kids had to audition to get into this?
Then, Miss Vogel comes onto the stage and says, “Now for a word from our sponsor.”
My body tingles, and I’m as nervous as if I were up there, too.
Nev comes onstage, dressed like that girl in white on the insurance commercial.
I want to throw up for her, but she gives everyone a smile. Her thick hair is out of her braid and held back with a giant blue headband. She winks at the crowd. She might actually be having fun.
She squints into the spotlight.
“Hey!” she calls to us. “Anyone out there?”
Max stumbles in, papers crammed into a notebook every which way, fly open, shoes untied.
“Me!” he yells back. “I need help!”
“What can I do for you?” she mimics the girl’s voice perfectly. They didn’t do any blocking, though, because Max keeps standing in front of her when they talk. They should be turned sideways to the audience, so we can see them both. I wonder if anyone is recording tonight? If they watched it, they could totally do better for tomorrow’s show. I’ll tell them later.
“I’m a mess,” he says. A banana falls out of the piles he’s carrying and it splats on the floor.
That’s my bit!
And, come to think of it, so is the mess of papers he’s holding.
And then it hits me: Max is me. He might not know it—they might not have intended it that way, or maybe they did—but it’s me.
My face is so red and hot I worry that it’s going to outshine the spotlight.
Does anyone else know? Does Zada?
“You need homework insurance!” Nev chirps. I want to punch her in the face.
She tells Max how affordable it is, what it does, and the kids around me are cracking up. “Sign me up!” someone yells.
“Me too!” another kid calls.
“Me too!” Zada pipes in.
More and more voices yell that they want in.
And it hits me: They need help, too.
No one thinks they have it all together, no matter how much they seem to.
Their skit gets the most laughs, and what’s cool is that they come out two more times during the show and do different versions of it, like they’re really commercials. I’m cheering with everyone else every time they come on stage.
Then, after an eighth grader who does a pretty good ventriloquist act, Miss Vogel comes back to the stage. Behind her, the crew pulls down the giant screen that we use for assemblies.
I had no idea they’d use that screen. I mean, it makes sense, but I’ve never seen any of my stuff on a screen larger than a laptop.
And all these people weren’t in my room whenever I watched my own movies.
What if it stinks? I’m used to making big movies, action movies, nothing real.
What if I didn’t write it well enough? Will it make sense?
What if no one gets it? Will they boo me?
My chest tightens. This was a terrible, terrible idea.
What was I thinking?
“We have a late addition to the Hoot,” Miss Vogel says. “This student worked extra hard to put this together for our enjoyment. I think you’ll be amazed and impressed.”
Too late.
<< PAUSE >>
So this is where you came in, back at the beginning. Nothing is solved yet. Nothing is fixed or better or perfect. I have a lot of work to do on this story. Let’s see how it ends.
<< RESUME PLAY >>
I might puke.
Panic ants swarm my body. I can’t sit here.
What if no one gets it? Will they boo me?
I scoot out of my row.
“Where are you going?” Zada asks as I pass her.
“Nervous,” I mumble. I stand by the emergency exit door. A light breeze blows in around the frame. I breathe. Keep breathing.
“Hester? Is that you?”
Ms. Walker. She’s leaning against the wall, a dim shape in the crowded auditorium.
“Hi.”
“Did you … ?” She gestures at the screen.
My heart hammers, but I stand up straighter. �
��I did.” I can’t see her face clearly in the low light, but I’m sure she’s frowning. My hands twist together.
The projector comes to life and the soft guitar builds through the overly loud speakers, and the title slides in from the top of the screen:
THIS IS WHO WE ARE
The song kicks in, driving, and there are the scenes of kids walking into the building, laughing, pointing. A close-up of someone’s backpack. A shot of a girl dancing in the hall. Some guys playing basketball in gym class.
The words appear: We aren’t only what you see on the surface.
Someone alone, writing in a journal.
The light through the cafeteria windows.
The sixth graders at our table.
Zada, wrapping her headscarf.
We aren’t limited to check boxes and answer sheets.
Nev and Max, jostling each other because Max has snuck some of Nev’s chips.
A bunch of rapid cuts of kids laughing. Looking serious. Concentrating. Studying. Running. In class. Working a fund-raising table. Zada at the bakery. Kids picking up garbage.
We are capable …
A sixth grader helping an elderly man with his basket on his way into the supermarket. Two kids hugging, one bleeding from a torn-up knee, a skateboard on the grass.
Of far more …
There’s a picnic. A band concert. Play rehearsals. Sports teams winning and losing. A pair of girls holding hands. A boy practicing a speech.
I was able to get the audio and images perfectly in sync. Every small moment stands out like a tiny, sparkly gem. Somewhere, some part of me realizes that I made this. But I’m swept away, watching like everyone else.
Zada’s ELL class, working hard. A girls’ wheelchair basketball game. Sarah, with her pixie cut, helping a younger kid across the street. The images come faster and faster, piling on one another. And then, the final black screen:
Than you can possibly imagine.
The screen goes dark. My new production logo—a splayed banana with A HessMess Job written on the peel—appears.
My knees go weak, and I sag against the door.
It’s done. It’s over.
“Point taken,” Ms. Walker says.
For what seems like a long, long time, no one makes a sound. Then one person claps.
And another.
And another.
And it’s a roar, a sea of noise. Someone whistles. Someone cheers.
I did it.
<< PAUSE >>
This is not a movie.
This is my life.
<< RESUME PLAY >>
THE END
by Hess Greene
(edited by Bonnie Greene and Nev Chatterjee)
SUMMARY
AGENT SATCHEL must stop the deadly PROFESSOR D. STROYER before he runs his mind control experiments on teens, but MAXIMUM EVIL will do everything he can to foil AGENT SATCHEL’s plans.
STARRING
Neveah Chatterjee as AGENT SATCHEL
Max Oliviera as MAXIMUM EVIL
Hester Greene as voice-overs for additional characters
CHARACTER LIST
AGENT SATCHEL: Super-secret agent. Works for Spy HQ. Smart, funny. Knows seven deadly martial arts. Carries a bag with hidden pockets filled with spy gadgets. Likes: sushi, puppies, tigers. Hates: bad guys, cows, octopi.
MAXIMUM EVIL: Bad guy. Works for PROFESSOR D. STROYER. Knows four deadly martial arts. Likes: kittens, pizza, soccer. Hates: secret agents, good guys, spiders.
ACT I
Scene 1
INTERIOR Spy HQ.
A quiet office. A desk, chair, clock, computer. AGENT SATCHEL sits at the computer, back to the camera, watching YouChannel videos of puppies playing. She is wearing a Spy Suit: black jacket and pants, hair wrapped in a tight bun.
Suddenly, an alert pops up on her screen.
ZOOM IN: Close-up on monitor, over her shoulder.
We read:
ALERT! ALERT! Professor D. Stroyer has taken a teaching job at a local school, hiding his true identity. He is planning mayhem and destruction, but we don’t know what kind.
Your mission, Agent Satchel, is to sneak into the school, pretending to be a student, and find out what Stroyer is up to. When you find out, use your judgment and neutralize the threat.
This message will delete in four seconds.
A bomb emoji sizzles in the corner of the message. We see a countdown, hear a small pop, and the alert disappears. It’s back to puppies.
AGENT SATCHEL
Adiós, Fido, Fifi, Frederico, and Franz.
She closes the window and puts the computer to sleep.
CLOSE-UP: AGENT SATCHEL’s eyes, which are narrowed and angry.
AGENT SATCHEL
(voice-over)
I’ve got a job to do.
Scene 2
INT. School office.
AGENT SATCHEL, wearing kid-clothes, stands at a desk, talking to a SECRETARY who we can’t see.
SECRETARY
(voice)
Here’s your schedule, dear. I’ve asked one of our students to show you around today. You’ll have math, English, science …
AGENT SATCHEL
(interrupting)
Is science with Mr. Stroyer?
SECRETARY
Of course it is, dear! He is our best teacher.
CLOSE-UP: AGENT SATCHEL’s Angry Eyes.
AGENT SATCHEL
(in a low voice)
I bet he is.
Camera pulls back. STUDENT has entered the frame. This is MAXIMUM EVIL, but AGENT SATCHEL doesn’t know that yet.
SECRETARY
Here he is! Max is also new, and he’s fit right in. Max, will you be our new student’s guide?
MAXIMUM EVIL
(grinning at the camera)
Absolutely.
The two leave the office.
Scene 3
MONTAGE: AGENT SATCHEL sitting in math and English classes, looking bored. MAXIMUM EVIL meets her after each class and walks her to the next one. They look at each other suspiciously.
CUT TO: Outside of the science classroom.
AGENT SATCHEL
Thanks. I’m good.
MAXIMUM EVIL
I’m in this class, too.
They walk in together. A TEACHER is at the front of the room.
AGENT SATCHEL
That’s not Mr. Stroyer!
MAXIMUM EVIL
We have a sub. Mr. Stroyer is … busy.
They sit at a desk. AGENT SATCHEL looks even more suspicious.
SUBSTITUTE TEACHER
Mr. Stroyer is working in Room 225 today, putting together something really special for all of you. So I’m covering for him.
AGENT SATCHEL
(to herself)
I have a bad feeling about this.
SERIES: Science class. AGENT SATCHEL keeps trying to get to the teacher’s desk; MAXIMUM EVIL keeps bringing her attention back to him. AGENT SATCHEL finally succeeds in sneaking a piece of paper off the desk when MAXIMUM EVIL goes to the bathroom.
We see the paper: MIND CONTROL EXPERIMENTS ON TEENS, it reads in big red letters. AGENT SATCHEL is worried. She folds it and puts it in her notebook. Class resumes.
ACT II
Scene 1
INT. Noisy, busy middle school cafeteria.
AGENT SATCHEL stands at the edge of the room holding a lunch tray of lasagna, looking for a place to sit. MAXIMUM EVIL approaches, with a lunch bag.
MAXIMUM EVIL
Do you need somewhere to sit?
AGENT SATCHEL
(nods)
MAXIMUM EVIL
Follow me.
Camera follows the two of them. MAXIMUM EVIL leads her out of the cafeteria.
AGENT SATCHEL
(suspicious)
Aren’t we supposed to eat in there?
MAXIMUM EVIL
(over his shoulder)
I have a better spot.
INT. Door to Room 225. AGENT SATCHEL knows what’s beh
ind that door. Her cover is blown.
AGENT SATCHEL
Hey!
MAXIMUM EVIL turns. AGENT SATCHEL tosses her lunch tray of lasagna right at his face. Takes off down the hall.
AGENT SATCHEL races down the hall, trying to get to the main office. MAXIMUM EVIL wipes his face, runs after her. Chase ensues. AGENT SATCHEL throws hall garbage cans in his path. Garbage goes everywhere. MAXIMUM EVIL jumps over the garbage cans. He spots a custodian’s cart, then he grabs a floor mop and throws it, like a javelin, at AGENT SATCHEL’s feet. She trips and skids across the floor. MAXIMUM EVIL catches up to her.
They have landed right back outside Room 225. The door opens.
Scene 2
INT. Hallway floor outside of Room 225. The door opens, we see a pair of brown shoes and dark pants.
PROFESSOR D. STROYER
(voice-over)
I see you’ve found me. Come in, Agent Satchel. I’ve been expecting you.
MAXIMUM EVIL grabs AGENT SATCHEL’s arm, leading her into the lab. Lab equipment covers the counters. There’s a blue liquid in a beaker set aside from most of the equipment. We can tell it’s important.
CUT TO: AGENT SATCHEL, tied to a chair. She is scowling, with Angry Eyes.
AGENT SATCHEL
You won’t get away with this.