Call the Shots (Swim the Fly #3)(42)
“Oh, great,” Evelyn says under her breath. “Here we go again. Another hussy.”
I don’t let on that I know Leyna. I just meet her eyes and give her a furtive nod. A tiny smile pulls at the corner of her lips, but she keeps an otherwise straight face. Very professional.
Valerie starts the video camera, and Helen takes a few snapshots.
“Name?” Matt says, his pen poised over his notebook.
“Leyna Jansen,” she states, looking poised, confident, and drop-dead gamer gorgeous.
“Acting experience?” Coop asks.
“I’ve been in over a dozen plays at school and at the Turning Point Theatre. My biggest role was last year when I played Helen Keller in The Miracle Worker.”
Helen Keller! So that’s what The Miracle Worker was about.
Evelyn whispers in my ear, “I wish I was Helen Keller. Then I wouldn’t have to see or hear this braggart anymore.”
I nod thoughtfully, my brain working like crazy to figure out how I’m going to be able to cast Leyna in this film without causing Evelyn to freak out and take back all the equipment — or worse.
“Matt.” Coop turns to him. “Start Leyna off, please.”
“Sure.” Matt looks down at the scene and begins to read, “I really wish something exciting would happen around here once in a while.”
Leyna takes a moment to set herself. Then her face shifts and suddenly, magically, she becomes Stacy. As soon as she starts to speak, it’s obvious she’s ten times better than anyone we’ve seen so far. There’s a naturalness to her. A truth to her words. Like you can tell exactly what she’s feeling even when she isn’t talking.
Immediately I know that Leyna has to play the lead. It’s obvious. With her playing Stacy, we might actually have a chance to win one of the prizes at the film festival. Even Evelyn must see that we’re in the presence of a real actor here.
“Ehhhhh!” Evelyn voice-buzzes as soon as Leyna’s gone. “Fail.” She punctuates this with a thumbs-down and a loud, super-wet raspberry.
“Really?” Valerie says. “I thought she was pretty good.”
“Me too,” I add.
“Are you kidding? That wasn’t acting. She didn’t even do anything. She just stood there and talked. Frankly, I was bored out of my skull.” She shakes her head. “Honestly, I don’t think any of the girls we’ve seen today are even remotely castable. Maybe I’ll just have to play all of the female roles in this movie myself.” She nuzzles her sharp nose into my neck. “You wouldn’t mind, would you, smoopykins? Not after I got you all this great equipment.”
Over the top of Evelyn’s stringy-haired head, I see four pairs of eyes widen in horror. Oh, crap. What have we just done?
INT. HOME BASEMENT LABORATORY — NIGHT
Dr. Schmaloogan puts a slide labeled CHIMP-MAN under a microscope and looks into the eyepiece. He spins the dial, trying to focus the lens.
CLOSE-UP ON THE SLIDE
The slide comes into focus. A single cell splits into two cells. Then the two cells split into four. Then eight. Then sixteen!
Dr. Schmaloogan stumbles back from the microscope in excitement.
DR. SCHMALOOGAN
Yes! I’ve done it! A monkey-man virus! Soon I will alter the evolution of the entire human race! Of the entire world!!! Bwah-ha-ha-ha-ha-ha!
CUT TO:
INT. JACK’S HOUSE — NIGHT
Jack and Stacy are watching a zombie movie. Stacy buries her face in Jack’s chest.
STACY
Turn it off, Jack. It’s horrible. I’m scared.
JACK
Relax, Stacy. It’s just make-believe. Zombies aren’t real.
STACY
Yes, they are. Or could be. I read an article about an airborne mutated rabies virus that could cause everyone to go insane and start killing each other.
JACK
Where did you read that?
STACY
On the Internet.
JACK
(laughing)
Haven’t you learned yet? The Internet’s not always the most reliable source of information.
I scroll through the script pages on my laptop feeling worn out. This writing business is pretty grueling stuff. I thought that with Nessa’s help, things would be moving along a lot quicker, but actually it’s made the whole process even slower. Sure, the few scenes we’ve worked on together are good — way better than what I could have done on my own — but every time I e-mail her some pages, she sends them back the next day marked up with a ton of changes.
“What’s that?”
I jump at the sound of Cathy’s voice. She’s leaning down, reading the screenplay over my shoulder. I slam my laptop screen shut and whip the desk chair around. “Haven’t you ever heard of knocking?”
She looks at me sideways. “Are you writing a gay porn film, Sean?”
“Why are you even here?” I say.
Cathy plops a Winnie-the-Pooh lamp on my desk. “Mom asked me to bring this up to the baby’s room.”