nameand looking pretty and confident and carefree. I’m not proud of it, but I moved a little farther away from my sister as they got close, so I could plausibly pretend I wasn’t with her, but the blond one sounded interested when she pointed to the camera and asked, “Are you making a movie?”
Sophie didn’t answer, but she swung the camera around to shoot them. The dark-haired one giggled and waved, but the blond girl stared straight at the camera like she thought there was something hidden inside it.
“Yeah,” I said. “You want to be in it?”
“What’s it about?” the blond girl asked.
My sister didn’t say anything, so I answered for her. “It’s a documentary about Daniel Vollker. Do you have any . . . uh, thoughts about him?”
The dark-haired girl didn’t hesitate. “He made me care about basketball,” she said. “I didn’t know anything about sports when I came here, but he’s just so good, and you can tell he’s also a really good guy.”
The blond girl rolled her eyes. “He’s overrated,” she said. “I mean, he’s good and all, but good for our school doesn’t mean that much. He doesn’t really have a shot at the NBA.”
We were drawing a crowd. More and more people came swarming toward us, crowding in front of the camera and yelling. Sophie peeled her face away from the viewfinder and looked at me with knitted brows.
I wasn’t sure what I was supposed to do. Any minute someone was going to have the idea to beat us up.
“Okay!” I shouted. “Everybody who wants to be in the movie, get in a line behind me!”
For a second, everyone just yelled more. I started to plan a path to the exit. Then a girl hopped over a row of bleachers to stand behind me. And another. And a third. And then a pack of guys, still yelling. Pretty soon there were twenty people all lined up behind me, just because I’d told them to. Sophie swung the camera around to capture them—shoving and joking and eating Skittles but waiting their turn.
I didn’t have a chance to interview any of them, though, because two security guards in windbreakers came up the bleacher steps to ask us if we were authorized.
“Yes,” said Sophie, still filming.
“Okay,” said one of the guards, big and balding, with those brown bits of hair clinging to the sides of his head that made me scared of getting old. “Show us your form.”
Sophie lowered the camera and looked at the guard blankly.
“You can’t record a game without the permission of the athletic department,” the balding guard said. “You’re going to have to leave.”
All the way back to my dorm, I felt pleased with myself, like I’d gotten away with something. In a way we had—they’d kicked us out, but they hadn’t taken the tape.
A FTER THAT , things were different for me. The kids in film class heard about the movie and were either curious or dismissive in a way that let me know they were actually curious. They’d all been doing just the class projects, things like “record something that is moving.” Some of the more advanced kids started talking to me in the lab room where we signed out the camera—one of them volunteered to help us edit. The girls in my English class still ignored me, but theblond girl from the basketball game started saying hi to me around campus. She told me her name was Andrea and she was a sophomore, a history major. She had a sad edge to her voice that made me like her hair even more.
We couldn’t shoot at games anymore, and we couldn’t shoot at Daniel’s house, but we could shoot at the outdoor courts on the edge of campus where Daniel usually showed up early in the morning to practice on his own. And we could shoot at the bars that the team liked to hit on weeknights, Jacky’s and Bar 9 and the Sports Page. Daniel always ignored us, and his girlfriend stared at Sophie like she wanted to skin her, but other people came up to ask questions and try to get on camera. Everything I’d hoped for at the
Sophie didn’t answer, but she swung the camera around to shoot them. The dark-haired one giggled and waved, but the blond girl stared straight at the camera like she thought there was something hidden inside it.
“Yeah,” I said. “You want to be in it?”
“What’s it about?” the blond girl asked.
My sister didn’t say anything, so I answered for her. “It’s a documentary about Daniel Vollker. Do you have any . . . uh, thoughts about him?”
The dark-haired girl didn’t hesitate. “He made me care about basketball,” she said. “I didn’t know anything about sports when I came here, but he’s just so good, and you can tell he’s also a really good guy.”
The blond girl rolled her eyes. “He’s overrated,” she said. “I mean, he’s good and all, but good for our school doesn’t mean that much. He doesn’t really have a shot at the NBA.”
We were drawing a crowd. More and more people came swarming toward us, crowding in front of the camera and yelling. Sophie peeled her face away from the viewfinder and looked at me with knitted brows.
I wasn’t sure what I was supposed to do. Any minute someone was going to have the idea to beat us up.
“Okay!” I shouted. “Everybody who wants to be in the movie, get in a line behind me!”
For a second, everyone just yelled more. I started to plan a path to the exit. Then a girl hopped over a row of bleachers to stand behind me. And another. And a third. And then a pack of guys, still yelling. Pretty soon there were twenty people all lined up behind me, just because I’d told them to. Sophie swung the camera around to capture them—shoving and joking and eating Skittles but waiting their turn.
I didn’t have a chance to interview any of them, though, because two security guards in windbreakers came up the bleacher steps to ask us if we were authorized.
“Yes,” said Sophie, still filming.
“Okay,” said one of the guards, big and balding, with those brown bits of hair clinging to the sides of his head that made me scared of getting old. “Show us your form.”
Sophie lowered the camera and looked at the guard blankly.
“You can’t record a game without the permission of the athletic department,” the balding guard said. “You’re going to have to leave.”
All the way back to my dorm, I felt pleased with myself, like I’d gotten away with something. In a way we had—they’d kicked us out, but they hadn’t taken the tape.
A FTER THAT , things were different for me. The kids in film class heard about the movie and were either curious or dismissive in a way that let me know they were actually curious. They’d all been doing just the class projects, things like “record something that is moving.” Some of the more advanced kids started talking to me in the lab room where we signed out the camera—one of them volunteered to help us edit. The girls in my English class still ignored me, but theblond girl from the basketball game started saying hi to me around campus. She told me her name was Andrea and she was a sophomore, a history major. She had a sad edge to her voice that made me like her hair even more.
We couldn’t shoot at games anymore, and we couldn’t shoot at Daniel’s house, but we could shoot at the outdoor courts on the edge of campus where Daniel usually showed up early in the morning to practice on his own. And we could shoot at the bars that the team liked to hit on weeknights, Jacky’s and Bar 9 and the Sports Page. Daniel always ignored us, and his girlfriend stared at Sophie like she wanted to skin her, but other people came up to ask questions and try to get on camera. Everything I’d hoped for at the
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