On the drive to Culver City, Dad gives me lots of advice, most of which consists of telling me to FOCUS. People have been telling me to focus my entire life, but always on schoolwork; it’s weird to get concentration advice about leaping and skateboarding.
Tony greets us at the security gate and shows Dad where to park. Dad doesn’t bring a sketchpad with him the way he usually does, which means he plans on watching me every second. Tony introduces us to the director, a woman named Collette with wild brown hair overflowing from under her L.A. Dodgers baseball cap. Turns out she worked with Dad on a thriller a few years ago, and she tells him she looks forward to working with me too.
“You and Tony take as much time as you need.” She bends down and gives me a wink. “As long as you’re ready by tomorrow—9 A.M.”
She laughs, but something tells me she’s probably not kidding. Lucky for me, my job is to jump and climb, not study or read. As Uncle Bob says, “piece of cake.”
We walk to the set, and Tony bounces up and down like we’re boxers stepping into a ring. “Let me give you some background,” he says. “The main character of the film—a kid named Chris—just got back from a Halloween party and hears strange noises at the neighbor’s house. Chris runs outside to check, the director yells ‘cut,’ then you get in place. When Collette yells ‘action,’ you run across the yard and climb up this.” Tony turns the corner and points to the tallest wall I’ve ever seen.
“What do you think?” he asks.
I don’t answer because I’m already halfway up the wall.
What’s Not to Like?
Surprisingly, Dad keeps to himself on the set. He sees a few acquaintances from other jobs and doesn’t seem overly focused on me, which is a relief.
acquaintances
Tony appears happy with my climbing and gives a thumbs-up to the director when she comes by. He then drops me off in the wardrobe department to get fitted for clothes—the same outfit the actor will be wearing in the scene.
The costume designer’s name is Zoe. She asks me what size I usually wear, and I feel like a moron when I tell her I don’t know because my mom still buys all my clothes. She smiles and tells me her son doesn’t know what size he is either, which makes me feel a little better, but not much. She measures me, then goes through several racks of different clothes.
stifle
When she comes back, I can’t stifle my surprise.
“You want me to wear pajamas?”
“The character Chris is getting ready for bed and goes next door to check out the neighbors, right? Seems to me that calls for pajamas.”
The tops and bottoms are a thick cotton flannel, bright red and with a design of dog bones and leashes. They seem comfortable, and the dog theme reminds me of Bodi.
adjustments
After I try them on, Zoe makes me stand on a box in the middle of the trailer while she makes adjustments.
“Today’s just the rehearsal,” I say. “I can’t wait to meet the actors tomorrow.”
She mumbles something as she hems my pants, and I realize her mouth is full of pins and she can’t answer.
“Tanya Billings is in this movie. She’s great,” I say. Tanya Billings used to have a show on the Disney Channel until she made an action movie last year that was a huge box office success. Now the magazines in my mother’s waiting room have photographs of her doing normal things like riding her bike and going shopping. In this movie, I’m not sure what part she plays, maybe the sister of my character, Chris.
relationship
Thinking of Tanya Billings makes me think of Matt; we watched Tanya’s last movie together at least four times. My relationship with Matt is like the ones I have with Mom and Dad, or Bodi and Grandma—always there, without a lot of thought or effort. There’s no way a little fight like the one we had the other day could affect our friendship. If I get to meet Tanya Billings tomorrow, maybe I’ll ask her to sign an autograph for Matt. He’d like that.
Zoe tells me my pajamas will be ready the next day. She talks to someone on her walkie-talkie, then escorts me to the hair and makeup trailer. She introduces me to a man named Bruno, who checks my skin.
“I don’t have to wear makeup, do I?” Between the pajamas and makeup, I wonder what I’ve gotten myself into.
“We don’t usually worry about makeup with the stunt team,” Bruno says. “If you guys are doing your job right, no one should see your face.”
Bruno takes me over to the hair department where there’s a shelf lined with Styrofoam heads wearing various wigs. He removes a long, dark brown wig from the stand.
“Why do I have to wear a wig and a witch’s hat?” I ask.
Bruno seems confused. “Didn’t you read the script? Your character just came home from a Halloween party.”
various
“Oh, yeah. I forgot.” I guess being in a movie isn’t too different from real life; I spend half my time pretending I’ve read stuff I haven’t.
Bruno makes me sit in a chair, then places the wig on my head. He brushes and styles it with care, as if it’s real hair and I’m at the hairdresser’s. When he’s done, he talks on his walkie-talkie to Tony, who tells him he’s waiting with my dad at craft services.
As I follow Bruno across the set, I have no idea I’m about to discover the hidden treasure of a movie set.
It’s Almost as Good as Christmas
“You mean there’s free food on movie sets? Why didn’t you tell me this before?”
My father shakes his head. “I’ve been keeping you away for this exact reason.”
I walk through the trailer and don’t know where to begin. Cake, brownies, cookies, muffins, soda, potato chips, bagels, hot chocolate, candy bars, gum, and M&M’s—and that’s just the first shelf. It’s like scoring the biggest Halloween jackpot without having to dress up or knock on doors.
I take a huge bite of my first candy bar. “You mean I could’ve been eating free candy all these years?”
“The food is reserved for the cast and crew,” Dad answers. “Not for the son of a storyboard artist. It’s a long day working on a movie—the crewmembers need to refuel.”
reserved
refuel
When I start to fill my pockets with licorice, Dad shoots me one of his looks.
“I’m refueling!”
Tony laughs and tells Dad it’s fine. As if to join in the free food fest, Dad pours himself a cup of coffee.
I choose my next candy bar and realize how much more bearable school would be with a craft services department. NOT the cafeteria ladies who stir big pots of brown stuff for lunch, but workers who lay out candy, cakes, and slices of pie in neat rows for kids to come by and take for free all day. In a perfect world, it would be located right next to our lockers so Matt and I could sneak in a quick snack between every class. Compared to this movie set, school now seems like the most horrible punishment on the planet, worse than being stuck on a chain gang with girls who won’t stop talking.
If I were the type of kid who signed petitions and started a committee, this is TOTALLY the kind of project I’d put my time and effort behind.
committee
A Strange Silence
Four candy bars, two muffins, and three hot chocolates later, I almost need to be carried to the car.
“You think you overdid it, champ?” Tony asks.
I tell him I’m fine, but all I want to do is curl up on my bed with Bodi and sleep.
“You did a great job with the climb and the jump,” he says. “But tomorrow’s the real deal—will you be ready?”
“I’ve been ready my whole life,” I say. “See you at 8 A.M. sharp.”
I’m eternally grateful that my father doesn’t spend the ride home yelling at me for indulging in too much sugar. Even though we take surface roads, the streets are clogged with traffic. Dad doesn’t complain, and I begin to wonder if the aliens have returned to take over his brain again.
indulging
When my cell rings, I hope
it’s Matt so I can tell him about the free food and the stunts, but it’s my mother asking if I had a fun day. I leave out the part about eating too many snacks and tell her I did.
“Well, that means you fulfilled clause number three in your contract,” she says. “That just leaves numbers one and two.”
The thought of changing monkey poop when I get home makes me rush for the button to lower the window. The cool air feels good as I stick my head out of the car.
“Derek? Are you still there?”
I tell Mom I’m fine and we’ll be home as soon as we can. I text Matt again but get no response.
confide
“I bet Matt wishes he could be there tomorrow. He must be pretty proud of you,” Dad says.
Since we’re in rush-hour traffic that’s not rushing, I decide to kill some time and confide in my father.
“I thought Matt would’ve been happy too,” I say, “but he’s been kind of weird since this whole thing happened.”
“Really? Why didn’t you tell me about it before?”
“I’m telling you now.” Yet again, the downside of being an only child: living under the parental microscope.
“I’m sure Matt could’ve done those stunts too,” Dad says. “I’d say you’re both about the same skill level, wouldn’t you?”
“Well, yeah, but I’m definitely the one to try new things first. The day Tony saw me, I walked up five flights of stairs just using the rails.”
“WHAT?” If we hadn’t been in gridlocked traffic, I bet Dad would’ve pulled over the car.
“It was no big deal,” I lie. “I do it all the time.”
Dad calms down a bit. “I’m sure there were several reasons Tony chose you. There’s size to consider—Matt’s about fifteen pounds heavier than you. The stunt coordinator needs to match the stuntman to the actor in terms of height, weight, and coloring. You could’ve gotten the job for those reasons too.”
gridlocked
I stick my head back out the window. I liked it better when I thought I got the job because I was braver and faster, not because I was the right size.
When we finally get home, my mother hands me the phone. “Someone wants to hear all about your first day on the set.”
I grab the phone and start to tell Matt about the wall and the free food. Except it isn’t Matt who I’m talking to; it’s Carly. I continue telling her about my day but it’s with less enthusiasm than when I thought Matt was on the line. As we talk, I check my cell to see if there are any texts from Matt. There aren’t.
Mom watches me lift Frank out of his cage and take him into the living room. She tells me I can hang out with Frank while she finishes cooking dinner. I take out my shoe box of miniature knights.
“Come on, Frank. Help me line them up on the table.”
“It’s not our job to train him,” Dad says. “We’re just helping him get used to living with humans.”
They’ve told me this numerous times, but that doesn’t stop me from wanting to teach Frank a few simple tricks. I mean, Pedro fills Michael’s water bottle; it seems only fair that I should get Frank to hand me a crummy old action figure.
numerous
irritation
When Mom calls us for dinner, I head for the kitchen.
“Derek!” Mom says with irritation. “Where’s Frank?”
“He’s okay. I’ll get him.” I go back, get Frank, and put him in his cage. It’s not like we live in the rain forest—how much trouble can a monkey get into watching TV?
When I see the platter of broccoli and fish, I tell Mom I’m still full from eating on the set. She says okay and tells me to rest up for my big day tomorrow. Because my stomach hurt earlier, she gives me a one-time pass to get out of changing Frank’s diaper and sends me upstairs with my library book.
Instead, I settle onto my bed with Calvin and Hobbes, my sketchbook, and my favorite markers. But even Calvin and Hobbes can’t make me feel better tonight—I’m too busy checking my cell every few minutes. I realize I’m being ridiculous. Matt is my best friend. If I want to tell him about my day, I can just call him. Again.
“I had a great time on the set,” I say to his voicemail. “You would’ve loved it. Call me.”
I spend the rest of the night pretending to read and waiting for Matt’s call.
Choke
This time Dad brings work to the set. I’m not sure if it’s because he’s on deadline or because he wants to pretend he’s busy so he won’t make me nervous. Either way, I block him out and focus on Tony.
“Scene 22—your scene—is first up today, which means you won’t have to spend a lot of time hanging around waiting. Let’s get you to wardrobe so you can put those pajamas on.”
“Is Tanya Billings here today?”
“Dude, right now you need to concentrate on climbing that wall in as few takes as possible, okay?”
production
I suddenly realize that any mistake on my part could hold up this whole production. I look around the set at more than a hundred crewmembers—electricians, sound guys, cameramen, assistants, makeup artists, producers, people from the studio, the director—and grasp the reality of the situation. I’m a kid who slips up a lot; there’s always some teacher or neighbor or parent who wishes I’d done things differently. I imagine a crewmember with one of those chalk clapperboards announcing every take. “Scene 22, take 1.” “Scene 22, take 2.” As I follow Tony across the set, the image intensifies: “Scene 22, take 87 … take 135.” Suppose I screw up and the director screams at me in front of everyone? Suppose they have to close down the movie and everyone loses their jobs? Before long, I am a few breaths away from a full-blown panic attack.
intensifies
scenario
“Derek, are you okay?” Tony asks.
I tell him about the scenario I’ve just created in my mind.
“With that imagination, you should be writing screenplays instead of doing stunts! What are you worried about? No one’s asking you to perform brain surgery. You’re climbing a wall, you’re running an obstacle course—stuff you do every day. All the director wants is for you to be you. You can’t mess that up, right?”
My father magically appears next to us. It’s as if his parent antennae alerted him that something was wrong from the other side of the set.
jitters
“You all right?” he asks.
“He’s just got a case of the jitters,” Tony says. “He’ll be fine.”
My father pretty much ignores Tony and looks me straight in the eyes. “You don’t have to do this if you don’t want to,” he says. “They’ll move on to another scene and find a new stuntboy. Happens all the time.”
I can tell by the look on Tony’s face that this is not the pep talk he was hoping for.
“On the other hand,” Dad says, “if you want to use your natural instincts and show these people what a twelve-year-old boy is capable of, I suggest you go on out there and kick some butt.” He gives me a wink and holds open the door to the wardrobe trailer.
expectantly
When Tony looks at me expectantly, I realize the only person who would really get yelled at if I screw up is Tony. He took a chance on hiring me, and I’m not going to let him down.
“Give me a minute to get changed,” I say. “I’ve got a wall to climb.”
Star Power
The crew still isn’t finished lighting the fake neighbors’ house, so Tony and I go over to craft services.
He doesn’t have to tell me to avoid temptation; I already plan on filling my pockets AFTER my stunts.
“Hey, you want to meet Tanya Billings? She’s right over there.” Tony points to a pretty girl in front of the muffins. I recognize her right away and hope he doesn’t introduce us because I already know I’ll say something stupid.
temptation
bewildered
But it’s not seeing a big movie star that has me bewildered; it’s what she’s wearing.
Dogbone pajamas.
&
nbsp; “Why is she wearing the same pajamas as me?” I whisper to Tony.
He seems as confused as I do. “Because she’s in your scene. She’s playing Chris.”
“Chris is a GIRL?” I shout.
“I thought you said you read the script. Of course Chris is a girl.”
This is what happens when you assume that if something is important enough, somebody will end up telling you about it. I can’t blame anyone but myself.
My mind races through a million thoughts. What will my friends say when they find out I’m pretending to be a girl? Do I have any friends left? Why hasn’t Matt called me back? Am I going to have to do any girl stuff? Does this mean I’m now a stuntgirl?
Then the news hits me: Tanya Billings is the biggest teen star in the world, and I’m doing the stunts she’s too afraid to do! Girl stunts or not, it’s still amazing.
When Tony brings me over to meet Tanya, I’m feeling pretty good about myself—until I have to open my mouth.
“I’m Tanya. You must be my stuntman,” she says. “Or stuntboy. Whatever the word is.”
I stammer what’s supposed to be an introduction, but all that emerges is a series of grunts.
stammer
“I didn’t get that,” Tanya says. “What’s your name again?”
What comes out next is the closest thing to Derek I can muster.
“Doc? That’s a cute nickname. Nice to meet you, Doc.” When she shakes my hand, her skin is soft and warm and feels like the bread my mom bakes when it comes out of the oven.
My Life as a Stuntboy Page 3