Love, Hate and Other Filters(49)
“Maya, listen.” His voice grows urgent. “Whatever happens, you can’t stop making your movies. Promise you won’t give up. You’ve got to fight for what you want.”
My eyes begin to sting. “But I’m tired of fighting. I tried to step out of the stereotypical good Indian girl mold—with Phil, my movies, New York—and now my whole life is a dumpster fire. So what’s the point?”
I hear Suraya call Kareem.
“Sorry,” he mutters. “I gotta run. Listen, if you give up now, you’ll regret it later. That I know.”
“I’ll take it under advisement.”
“It’ll work out. I know it. I’m here if you need me. Listen to your gut. Okay?”
“Got it. See ya.”
If I listen to my gut, I’d be throwing up right now.
“Good Morning Springfield” TV 7
The authorities have traced the partial license plate and VIN from the vehicle that exploded to a rental agency on the Illinois-Indiana border.
The truck was rented to an Ethan Branson—a nineteen-year-old Indiana resident with apparent ties to white supremacist organizations. Mr. Branson frequently commented on right-wing extremist websites with strong antigovernment rhetoric and attended meetings of the Midwestern Knights of Brotherhood in Indiana.
Materials found in his motel room here in Springfield indicate he acted alone.
Every spring, a few weeks before graduation, the senior class heads to the American Adventure amusement park. I’m not exactly a fan of vertigo-inducing roller coasters, but at least it’s a break from the stone-cold, silent tomb of my house. Not to mention a distraction from the incessant prom talk, the bitter icing on the rotten cake of senior year.
It’s also the perfect day to film. I’m making Violet a movie of senior year as a grad gift, so documenting our last senior outing together is absolutely necessary.
I take my camera in hand.
Roll sound.
Roll camera.
And action.
Technically, I have no assistant director and no boom operator. And in fact, no boom. But in my head, I like to sound authentic.
“Let’s go,” Violet urges as she slams her locker shut. When she sees me filming, she immediately flashes a brilliant smile. Violet is always camera-ready. “I don’t want to get stuck in the front of the bus with the chaperones.”
I play my part from behind the lens. “You are way too peppy for this early in the morning.”
“We’re out of school. The weather’s gorgeous, and we get to hang outside going on rides all day.”
She’s saying what the entire class thinks. Everyone except for me because, number one, I don’t want to puke. Number two, I want to avoid Phil.
Violet practically breaks into a run once we’re outside. I scurry to keep up, but worry these shots will look like I filmed during an earthquake. “Look, there’s three buses, and Phil’s probably going to ride with the jocks, so it should be easy to avoid him, and once we get there, we’ll steer clear.” She knows exactly what’s on my mind.
She turns to face my lens, eyes sparkling. “The entire glorious purpose of today is to gorge ourselves on fried foods and experience vomit-worthy g-forces. There’s Monica and the boys.” She waves and walks in their direction, forcing me to follow.
I stand a little apart so I can capture a medium shot. I’m on the perimeter, the observer as always. Sometimes it feels a little lonely, but at least it’s on my terms. Violet hugs Monica, who lets go of Justin’s hand to return the embrace like it’s been months since they’ve seen each other and not just yesterday.
Violet turns to fist-bump Justin while Monica adjusts her skirt—there are probably only a handful of girls in our class who would dare to wear something so short. And yes, Violet is another one of them. Mike steps forward, arms slightly extended to try and hug Violet, but she is clearly going for the fist-bump and ends up punching him in the shoulder. Awkward. But oh-so perfect on film.
Mike blushes. Poor Mike. He’s my male blushing counterpart. He shakes his head when Violet and Monica turn to head for the bus. I can tell Justin is trying to stifle his laughter. He pats Mike on the back and leads him away.
I pan the camera from left to right, capturing the entire class as they mill around and start to pile into the buses. There’s this iconic quality to this scene, like it could’ve been the same thirty years ago. Kids in the school parking lot, American flag fluttering atop a metal pole, cornfields in the distance, blue skies. Everything is such a mess, and I can’t wait to graduate, but I still feel this twinge of nostalgia for my time at Batavia High School as it draws to a close.
Brian appears in my frame. He’s staring at me from across the parking lot.
I stop short and drop my camera to my side. I guess his suspension is over. For a second, I don’t recognize him. He’s shaved his head. He’s wearing fatigues and an army green T-shirt. There’re dog tags around his neck. Josh and Brandon, his constant companions from the football team, are standing next to him, oblivious. Laughing and talking, like everything is totally normal. It’s not cold out, but I rub my upper arms. He doesn’t drop his eyes from mine. Finally I look away and head toward Violet and Monica, who are happily chatting by the third bus.
Violet and Monica smile as I approach, but when they see my face, they know something is wrong. Violet shrugs her shoulders up in a question. I whisper, “Brian,” and then subtly point in his direction, making sure he can’t see me.