The Cutting Room Floor (17 page)

Then I wrap my arms around Dez and give him what he asked for.

THE MAKING
OF A FILMMAKER

INT. THE BRANDT HOUSE—
EARLY MORNING

A young DESMOND sits on the couch and watches cartoons. The camera moves in on his face. The 8-year-old boy is shoveling in Cheerios and laughing at SpongeBob SquarePants.

The boy’s father, MICHAEL BRANDT, walks into the room. We see him set a duffle bag behind the couch.

DESMOND
(scooting in close to his dad)
Are you going to watch this
one with me? It’s a good one.

MICHAEL
(squeezes his eyes shut)
Not today, buddy. I have some
work I have to do.

DESMOND
Mom says you haven’t worked in three months.

MICHAEL
I know pal, that’s what I want to talk to you about. That’s why I have to leave today.

DESMOND
Leave where?

MICHAEL
On a little trip.

DESMOND
Can I come?

MICHAEL
Not this time.

DESMOND
When will you be back?

MICHAEL
Soon. But I have something for you. Something I want you to do while I’m gone.

DESMOND
What?

MICHAEL pulls a box from his duffle and hands it to DESMOND.

MICHAEL
Here, it’s a video camera. I want you to shoot video of everything I miss while I’m gone. That way when I get back, I’ll be all caught up.

MICHAEL shows DESMOND how to use the camera.

DESMOND
(puts the camera down)
But I don’t want you to go.

MICHAEL
I have to, Desmond. Sometimes you need to go after what you want no matter what it costs. I love you, buddy.

MICHAEL kisses DESMOND’S head, grabs his bag, and walks toward the door.

DESMOND picks up the camera and tapes him walking way.

RILEY

It’s Thursday, the day before the screening, and I don’t want to see anyone. This is the first time our school will get to see the films we plan to submit for next weekend’s festival. There’ll be Dez’s film and a few other independents that random students will throw into the ring.

The stress of everything has started to take its toll—not only with the film, but with what I’ve learned the past few weeks about Ms. Dunn, Dez, Tori, and Libby. All the secrets, lies, omissions. They pile up and weigh me down. I spend the school day hiding out, and soon I find myself heading outside to Ms. Dunn’s garden.

I’m not alone.

Will is out there too. He’s on his phone, no doubt making some kind of deal. I move to the side of the building and watch him. My mind goes to the video again, of Libby and Will in Ms. Dunn’s room that last day.

Once again, Will is doing his dirty work in Ms. Dunn’s space. He finishes his call and spits on the ground. Then he takes out his car keys. Before I can stop him, he takes a key and runs it across the memorial plaque.

“Hey!” I run toward the garden. “Stop.”

Will kicks the plants and tromps over the mums. He meets my eyes and dares me to do something.

I stop, backing up while he slowly walks out toward his car.

I gather the smashed flowers and leaves and try to salvage them. When it doesn’t work, I sit down in the middle of the garden and cry.

Dez knows better than to mess with me, so we’re quiet on the drive home from school. I tell him about the garden, and he says, “Sounds like Will.”

“Maybe
he
did it.” I’m crying as we pull up the driveway.

Dez knows exactly what I’m talking about. “Not this again. I thought you were done playing detective?”

“Who said that?”

“Well, I’d say all of your clues have dried up. Unless you’re putting Libby back on the list?”

“I don’t think we’ve totally eliminated anyone yet.”

“Rye.”

“What?” I snap.

“Just because a lowlife dealer stomped on a few flowers doesn’t mean he killed Ms. Dunn. It’s reaching, don’t you think?”

My head starts to pound. “I’m not sure what to think anymore.”

“We have a lot to deal with right now. Can you just put this on the back burner and get some rest?” He leans over me to help push open the jammed passenger door. “I’m saying this as your director now. You need to take it easy.”

“Okay,” I mutter.

I think he might be right.

It’s quickly turning dusk when I get an idea. I run up the stairs, taking them two at a time, to get the skateboard from my bedroom.

I walk into the kitchen, toward the back door, and Dad looks up from his coupon clipping. He sees the board tucked under my arm and raises an eyebrow. “It’s been a long time since you’ve been on that death trap,” he says. “Think that’s wise?”

“No, but I must.”

Dad laughs. “Well, if you must. Don’t be gone too long. Mom’s picking up tacos for dinner.”

“I won’t be long,” I assure him.

I giggle as I step onto my board. It makes me feel like a kid again. I feel the spinning wheels under me and I want to close my eyes as I coast down the hill. Of course, I can’t. I need to maneuver around the uneven pavement, and cars, and kids.

I shift my weight around the corner, the wind burning my eyes.

The angst and anxiety I’ve been feeling for the last few weeks flow to the back of my mind. Dez is right—I need a break. Everything’s going to be okay.

I soar over the road on my board till the darkness falls. Once it does, I stroll back to the house, stopping to look at the last of the autumn leaves along the way.

Though I’m still mad at Dez for not telling me about Tori, I know deep down that it’s more than anger at his omission. I’m jealous—painfully so. Then, I think of all the secrets
I’ve
kept from him. Everything I’ve left unsaid. I’m no better than he is.

Suddenly I want it all to end. I want to close the distance between us.

I want Dez.

As I get closer to home, I can see him. He’s sitting on the stoop, writing.

I skip up the steps to his house and join him. He smiles when I sit down and tuck my legs under his.

We sit.

“We good?” he asks.

I nod and lean into him a little more until Mom’s car turns up the drive. I grab his hand and pull him toward my house. “Come on, have dinner with me.”

DEZ

Riley took the first step, having me over for tacos with the fam last night, and I’m ready to one-up her. Tonight, the night of the screening, it’s time for my big move.

Riley and I share a sandwich as the crowd filters into the auditorium. My nerves are jumping, but it’s not about the screening. It’s about the box in my back pocket. The one holding the charm necklace I bought for Rye. I’ve given her gifts before, plenty of them, but I’m hoping this one will mean more.

She saves me the last bite of our sandwich. “Let’s do this,” she says, leaning in to give me a kiss on the cheek. I turn my head just in time to catch it on my lips—not on purpose, I swear.

Her lips graze mine and my insides are instantly on fire. Her lips are soft. Full. Perfect. It takes every ounce of will power I have not to pull her in for more.

“Oops.” She laughs, covering her mouth.

“Hey.” I reach out for her arm. “I have something for you.” I dig in my pocket and pull out the box.

“What’s this?” She holds it in her hands.

“Open it.”

She takes off the bow, lifts the lid, and tightens her lips, the way she does when she’s trying to keep her emotions from escaping.

“Dez, you didn’t have to get me anything.”

I watch as her lips curve down. “I
wanted
to,” I say, worried that she hates it.

“It’s beautiful.” She holds up the thin chain with the silver wishbone hanging from it. She reaches out to me and I lean in, wanting to touch her and catch her lips in mine for a real kiss. I brace myself for her touch, knowing I have to hold back.

“All right, guys,” Homer interrupts. “Time to get this show started.”

Homer pulls me away with the other directors for our introduction to the crowd, but not before I reach out for Rye and whisper, “I already made my wish. Now it’s your turn.”

After the introductions, we roll the first film and I take my seat next to Riley. The auditorium is packed now, and I’m actually excited for everyone to see our work.

The lights dim and I search for Riley’s hand. Once I do, I lace my fingers in hers, happy that she doesn’t pull away.

I keep it there for the entire screening.

RILEY

I was five when my parents started taking me to the movies in the city. Our favorite theater is modeled after a Spanish courtyard, complete with balconies and plants and statues. The ceiling even has twinkling stars and floating clouds to give the illusion of being outside. It smells like mildew and burnt popcorn. It’s beautiful. My parents used to take me on Classics Night, when they showed everything from
My Fair Lady
and
Casablanca
to
The Wizard of Oz
and Monty Python flicks.

To say I liked it is putting it mildly. Those times are some of my best memories as a kid.
The Wizard of Oz
was my favorite and it’s become a tradition for us around the holidays.

I close my eyes and let myself go back to that first time …

Dad gives me my ticket as people begin filing into the theater. I feel like such a grown-up. I watch the people in front of me hand their tickets to the man by the velvet rope, so I do the same. The man hands it back to me with a wink and says, “You watch out for that wicked witch now.”

I quickly glance back at Mom, who puts her arm around me and says, “Don’t worry, honey. It’s all just pretend.” She gives the ticket man a dirty look.

We take our seats in the middle of the theater and chat until the lights dim. Then I’m completely engrossed. It’s the most amazing thing I’ve ever seen. I sit there between Mom and Dad and watch as Dorothy makes new friends, meets a good witch, fights with a bad one, goes to the Emerald City, finds the Wizard, is captured by flying monkeys, and melts the Wicked Witch of the West. And all while singing songs.

At the end, Mom and Dad have to drag me out of the theater because I don’t want to leave.

As I got older, I wanted to uncover all the mysteries. How did they make the house spin? How did Glinda’s bubble fly? How did the Wicked Witch of the West melt?

To Mom’s dismay, Dad started telling me about things—the special effects—like the wires that helped suspend things in the air and the trap door and smoke that allowed the characters to magically come and go.

Mom thought Dad was taking the magic away from me. What she didn’t understand was it was all magic to me. Whether I knew the tricks or not.

“There’s always someone behind the scenes making it all happen,” Dad explained. “Just like the man behind the curtain in Oz.”

Dez and I watch our film, both of us content and happy. When the lights come up, Dez takes my hand and leads me to the front of the theater. Jonah and the rest of the cast and crew join us. I warm in the spotlight as everyone turns in our direction … or maybe it’s having all my friends so close and hearing the applause. I feel like I could fly.

In that moment, holding hands with Dez with our friends surrounding us, nothing else matters.

The rejection from Emma?

Gone.

Libby’s criticism?

Washed away.

The breakups and loneliness and that feeling that I’m not good enough, that I don’t belong?

All locked out of this little bubble of happiness and warmth.

Too quickly, we take our bow.