When we run over to the bench, Tony doesn’t even seem out of breath. “That’s what parkour is—getting around an obstacle as efficiently as possible.”
“Who are you?” I ask. “Some kind of superhero?”
Tony laughs. “Better than that. I’m a stuntman.”
Real Life Gets in the Way of All My Fun
Mom and Dad listen to me talk about Tony all through dinner, but by the time eight o’clock rolls around, they’ve reached their limit.
Mom changes the subject by asking me how I like having Ms. McCoddle again. I tell her the universe just wants me to be miserable by giving me a recycled kindergarten teacher. She ignores me and tells me she heard Mr. Maroni is doing well in Cincinnati. Dad grabs the new media center book from the counter and hands it to me.
recycled
“I’ve been looking everywhere for this,” I lie. “Where’d you find it?”
“Propping up the crooked table leg in the den.”
“I wonder how it got there?”
Mom takes Frank out of the cage; I pet him, then pet Bodi too. It might seem crazy, but I never want Bodi to get jealous now that we have another animal in the house.
“Speaking of reading, how about if we start the year off on the right foot and hire a tutor?” Mom suggests. “That way all of us can have stress-free homework time.”
“Relaxing homework? What’s next—happy funerals?”
“Derek!” Mom snaps.
It’s just a joke, but after I say it, I realize other kids might actually have stress-free homework. I picture kids like Carly listening to Mozart with scented candles while they complete their assignments every night. Am I the only kid in class who crumples papers, bangs his head on the table, and gets sent to his room all because of a few crummy essay questions?
scented
assignments
My mother takes Frank next door to her office to change his diaper while my father looks over my math problems and nods his approval. Since it’s still the beginning of the school year, the homework is easy. As much as having a homework tutor sounds like admitting defeat—Yes, I need someone to stand over me like a two-year-old; yes, I need help staying focused; yes, I can go to the bathroom by myself—I wonder if it’s something I should consider. Judging by the books Matt’s brother Jamie had in our grade, the work will be getting harder by the day.
“Maybe Tony can be my tutor,” I say. “He can help me to perfect my jumps.”
“Not exactly what I was thinking, but nice try,” Dad says.
“If I can’t take stunt lessons, I guess I’ll do the next best thing.” I tuck the library book underneath the cushions of the couch and curl up with Bodi to watch an action movie on TV.
All I Want to Do
I don’t know about Matt, but the next day at school I barely listen to Ms. McCoddle. While she’s talking about the assassination of Abraham Lincoln, I imagine myself inching up the balcony of Ford’s Theatre, grabbing hold of the velvet curtain, and swinging smack into John Wilkes Booth, knocking the derringer out of his hand before he shoots the president. Who says a stuntman can’t change the course of history?
assassination
recommended
“How do you like that book I recommended?” Carly asks me at my locker. “Does it have enough action for you?”
I tell her that not only haven’t I read it yet, but I’m not even sure where it is. Her expression says she can’t even imagine losing something as precious and magical as a book.
She tells me about the solar system project she’s doing in Ms. Decker’s class, but all I can think about is trying to jump from the wall to the bench at UCLA.
reenactment
“I posted that video of Tony on YouTube.” Matt throws his book into his locker. “He’s my new hero.”
When Carly asks who Tony is, Matt goes into a lively reenactment of yesterday afternoon. I notice he’s written the word PARKOUR in large letters on his notebook.
Matt and I race to the door when the bell rings. Ms. McCoddle tries to get us to slow down, but we have more important things on our minds.
We spend the next several hours at UCLA climbing up walls and crawling along stairs like cheetahs. We both look around for Tony but don’t see him anywhere.
I find a set of stairs and realize it might be possible to walk along the handrails instead of on the steps themselves. I plot the moves in my mind before jumping on the bottom rail to begin.
“Dude,” Matt says. “It’s a cement sandwich if you fall.”
“I don’t intend to.” For some reason I’ve never been so sure of anything in my life. I walk all the way up five levels without looking down. When I get to the top, I pivot and walk back the other way. Matt videotapes the whole thing and is impressed when I land in front of him moments later.
pivot
apprehensive
“That was amazing!” he says.
“Come on, you try it.”
Matt puts his camera down and follows me to the staircase, but I can tell he’s apprehensive. I go first and take my time, offering encouragement along the way. He completes the first level but then jumps back down to solid ground. I make the decision to keep going on my own. When I get to the bottom, I hear the sound of slow applause, one person clapping. It’s not Matt who’s impressed this time; it’s Tony.
“You planned your moves, then executed them to perfection,” Tony says. “Just like the pros.”
impress
preparation
This is the first time in my entire life I’m getting credit for preparation, and I wish Matt had recorded Tony’s praise so I could play it back for my parents over and over again.
permission
Tony hands me his card. “Why don’t you have your mom and dad give me a call?”
“So you can tell them what a good thinker and planner I am?”
He laughs. “No, so I can ask their permission to use you in a new movie I’m working on.”
Matt lowers his camera. “We’ve been extras in movies before,” he says. “Derek and I were in crowd scenes on the boardwalk two different times.”
“Being an extra is fun, but it’s a lot of standing around.” Tony bends down and looks me in the eyes. “But I’m the stunt coordinator for a movie shooting now with an actor your age and size who’s petrified to do a similar move on film. I’m talking about you coming on set and doing something even easier than you did today.”
coordinator
petrified
Matt’s eyes pop out of his head like a cartoon wolf when it sees a pretty girl.
“Do you mean …” I can’t even finish my own sentence.
When Tony stands up, he looks like a sculpture of a lean muscle machine. “I’m talking about you, on camera, getting paid to do stunts.”
I break the land speed record getting home.
Please, Please, Please!
Because my dad is a storyboard artist, I’ve been on movie sets plenty of times. And if you live in Los Angeles, you’re used to films being shot around the city on a regular basis. But being able to jump and skateboard and climb on camera takes my interest in movies to a whole new level.
I shove another forkful of meatloaf into my mouth, then realize I should use my best manners if I want my parents’ okay. I even wait until I finish chewing before speaking again. “Maybe they’ll light my clothes on fire and let me run through the middle of the promenade,” I say.
My mother closes her eyes, which means she’s trying to calm herself down before she answers. “When I spoke to Tony, he said he’s only interested in you doing what you were doing on campus—climbing walls, skateboarding down the rail, that kind of thing. Minimal stuntwork.”
minimal
cockamamie
“Things some big-shot kid actor is too afraid to do,” I say.
My father is still processing the fire remark. “You are not jumping off a bridge, lighting yourself on fire, or any other cockamamie idea. Got that? The
se people are professionals. If you want to do this, you have to be one too.”
I nod as if being mature is what I dream about at night.
“Tony gave me several references,” Mom says. “The people who’ve worked with him give him high marks. And they’d only need you on set for a few days.”
I drop my fork onto my plate, and the noise gives Bodi a start. “A few days? I thought I’d miss a month or two of school!”
My father laughs. “You’ll probably have a day to rehearse and a few days to shoot. And the law requires a parent or guardian on set and three hours a day of schoolwork.”
Figures that my parents could turn something as amazing as being a junior stuntman into a sad excuse for homework.
“What else?” I ask. “Tests, boring assemblies, and bad cafeteria food?”
“Tony’s sending over the script for Dad and me to read before we decide. It’s the story of a kid whose neighbors are aliens. One of your scenes takes place on a soundstage in Culver City made up to look like the neighborhood on Halloween. The other is on a set made to look like a junkyard.”
mandatory
Now this is more like it! Aliens, junkyards, and stunts? I shove the tutor and three hours a day of mandatory homework into a tiny corner of my brain and concentrate on how great this is going to be.
Just as I’m about to taste victory, my father wipes his mouth with his napkin and pushes his plate away. “If Mom and I agree to this, you know we’re going to need something from you in return.”
commitment
I’m afraid to ask.
“We’re going to need a commitment on your reading. A promise to read and work on your vocabulary every single day.”
As he talks, I try to remember if he and I have ever had a conversation that didn’t include some kind of pep talk about reading. But this time is different. If they give their permission, I’ll even promise to grow up and become a librarian—that’s how much I want to be in this movie.
Weirdness with Matt
rumor
The rumor that a famous stuntman asked me to be in his new movie flies through the school. I’m the one who started the rumor, of course, but still it’s nice to have some attention that isn’t focused on my low grades.
Carly and I talk for a minute after art class while Maria and Denise giggle behind us—it’s kind of lame but also kind of cool. When I see Matt stick his finger in his mouth to fake-vomit, I leave Carly and run down the hall to catch up to him.
“Your parents haven’t even said yes yet,” Matt says. “Are you sure you want to tell the whole school?”
“They’re going to say yes,” I answer. “They’re just going to make me work for it.”
“Tony was at UCLA other times too,” Matt says. “He came over once, but I left before he could talk to met.”
I’m not sure what Matt is trying to say. “Do you mean he wanted to hire you instead of me?”
Matt shrugs. “Why not? We both do the same routines.”
I stop short in the hall and remind Matt that I had just walked up five levels of stairs on the handrails when Tony approached me.
Matt leans in close. “Are you calling me a chicken?”
aggressive
“Why are you acting like this?” I ask. “Stop being such a jerk.” Out of the corner of my eye, I see Carly watching us and am embarrassed to be seen in an almost fight with my suddenly aggressive best friend.
“You’re the jerk,” Matt says. “Your scene will probably be cut from the movie anyway.”
I’m stuck watching Matt’s back as he hurries toward his locker.
“Deep down, I’m sure he’s happy for you,” Carly says. “He probably just wants to be in the movie too.”
“How would you know?” I head in the opposite direction, leaving Carly in the middle of the hall alone.
It’s almost like this meteor of negative energy crashed into the hall and ricocheted from Matt to me and then to Carly. But when I turn back to apologize, Carly’s already gone.
ricocheted
My Parents Lower the Boom
“Okay,” Mom says. “Here’s the deal.”
I brace myself for what’s coming.
“When you wanted to adopt Frank, that was the only thing in the world you cared about,” Dad says.
“Homework, chores—nothing else mattered but getting that monkey,” Mom adds.
The sinking feeling in my stomach tells me where this conversation is going.
“You agreed to take on some added responsibility, but once Frank arrived, you ignored all your promises.” Dad’s expression looks more serious than the bust of a president at city hall.
Mom leans back in her kitchen chair. “This pattern of desperately wanting things, then disregarding your end of the bargain is a bad habit that has to stop.”
My parents have obviously forgotten what it’s like to be a kid with no money, no car, and no power. Of course we say anything to get what we want—what else are we supposed to do? I feel bad they’re out of touch with the way things work, so I continue to listen politely.
appropriate
“The good news,” Dad says, “is that we read the script and think the movie is fun and appropriate for kids your age.” He pulls the screenplay out of his bag. “Do you want to read it? Check out the story before you sign on?”
Great, more assigned reading. I tell Dad I’ll definitely read it before we start shooting. Definitely maybe, that is.
“Also, we talked to Tony, and the three stunts he wants you to do are things you do all the time anyway. He reviewed them with us thoroughly, and Mom and I agree they seem safe,” Dad adds.
“Does that mean yes?” All I want is for them to agree so this conversation can end.
“Your mom and I will have to sign lots of permission forms and releases if you do this,” Dad says. “So we want you to sign something too.” My mother takes a sheet of paper from the folder on the counter. It’s neatly typed and has a place for a signature at the bottom.
signature
“Is this a contract?” I ask.
“That’s exactly what it is,” she answers. “And it has three sections.”
I bang my head against the kitchen table until my father makes me stop.
Mom continues. “I, Derek Fallon, agree to the following. One: I will change Frank’s diaper once a day.”
She looks up to gauge my reaction. All I can think about is How badly do I want to be in this movie? Is it worth handling monkey poop? After a few minutes of contemplation, I decide it is.
contemplation
“Okay,” I agree. “What’s next?”
“Not so fast,” Dad says. “You had agreed to help out with Frank before. This time, you’re signing a contract. I suggest you read the fine print.”
It seems like there’s no way of getting out of this. I scan the paragraph entitled “Section One.”
“This is outrageous!” I yell. “If I don’t change Frank, you take away my skateboard? What if I forget?”
“Hopefully, signing your life away will help you remember.” Mom moves down to the next section. “Two: I will read one book a month for fun.”
galaxy
“How can it possibly be fun if you’re forcing me to do it?” I suddenly realize my parents’ bodies have been taken over by aliens from another galaxy. If I don’t escape soon, they will suck out my brains through my nostrils while I sleep. I make a beeline for the door.
“You don’t have to sign the contract,” the dad alien says. “They’ll just get some other kid to do the stunts.”
conquer
I wonder how long before these aliens decide to conquer the rest of the planet and will finally leave me alone. “What’s the third section?”
The mom life-form finally smiles. “Section three states that you agree to have a fabulous time on the movie.”
This is obviously an intergalactic trick to try and get me to surrender, so I read the rest of the contract very careful
ly. Sure enough, the last section tells me to have fun shooting the movie.
“Think you can manage Frank and some reading?” Dad says. “I don’t think your mother and I are asking too much.”
identical
Mom holds out the pen, and eventually I take it. I sign my name at the bottom of the form. Then Mom makes me sign an identical one so I have my own copy.
She hands it to me and shakes my hand like she’s closing a business deal. “Congratulations, Derek. I’ll call Tony tomorrow and tell him you can start rehearsals.”
Inside I’m jumping up and down with happiness, but that still doesn’t keep me from turning on the hallway light before I go to bed—in case my parents really have been taken over by aliens.
My First Day on Set
I text Matt to tell him I won’t be in school for the next two days and am surprised when he doesn’t text me back. On another day, I might worry that he’s still mad and things are getting strange between us, but this is not just any other day.
Since the movie studio insists a guardian accompany kids under eighteen, my dad volunteers. (Mom has three feline surgeries scheduled so she declines.)
declines
concentration
My Life as a Stuntboy Page 2