The Year of the Great Seventh by Teresa Orts Page A

was Shreyashi Sandhu. She treated the members of the crew like her slaves. She seemed to think everyone in the building was there to satisfy her needs, and hers alone.
    The director was behind a small TV screen that was displaying the set. He was talking to the light technicians and they were switching on and off different sets of lights.
    Twelve actors appeared through the corridor and took the jury seats, and an African-American man sat at the judge’s stand.
    Megan emerged from the corridor with a lot of makeup that made her look really pale. Her lips were purplish. She was wearing a pair of pants and a sweater twice her size. She seemed very thin in the baggy clothing. Megan took the stand and sat next to the judge.
    A man clapping a board sign with a digital watch screamed, “Action!”
    “Defense, please take the stand,” the judge announced with authority.
    Shreyashi Sandhu got up and approached Megan. She strode up and down, rubbing her hands. “When did you start feeling sick?” Shreyashi asked without directly looking at her.
    “A year ago,” Megan replied, as if she were talking to her own hands.
    “Where was your family’s residence then?” Shreyashi paced up and down the stand.
    “In Brooklyn, but I spent most of my time in the Bronx…” Megan spoke so quietly I could barely hear the words.
    Shreyashi cut Megan off. “Please refrain from answering anything other than my question.” She came to a halt in front of Megan. “Was your family residing in South Bronx when you said you started feeling effects from the gas leakage from Bangnen Chemicals?”
    Megan began to sob. She closed her eyes and inhaled deeply, seemingly getting back her composure. In between sobs, she mumbled, “No, we moved a month after I started feeling sick, but I was spending most of my time in my aunt’s house in the South…”
    “Objection, your honor, she can’t prove that,” Shreyashi said, turning to face the judge.
    I suspected Shreyashi was enjoying bullying Megan, even if it was required by the script.
    “Please proceed,” the judge instructed. His hands hid under the sleeves of his black robe.
    “Isn’t it true that during that month, your aunt was in North Carolina visiting some relatives?” Shreyashi said, smashing her fist on Megan’s stand and producing a loud thud.
    Megan was blubbering inconsolably. She covered her face with her hands while she murmured something to herself.
    “Cut!” the director shouted, and all the actors rushed off the set to get breakfast from a table that had been set up on the side.
    Megan was all smiles. She dried her tears with a tissue that her mom handed her. I had to admit I was surprised by Megan’s performance. She was undoubtedly a terrific actress. For a moment I’d forgotten that this wasn’t actually a courtroom.
    “We’ll do the next scene in five minutes!” the director announced.
    Shreyashi stormed to the director’s side. She didn’t seem pleased with his decision. I realized why Megan had placed my chair next to this camera. I was right behind the director and the producers.
    “She was rushing through the script,” Shreyashi said quietly but firmly to the director.
    “I think it came across quite naturally. I’m pleased with the take.” The director looked away.
    “We need to do this again. She was trying to steal the spotlight by rushing me through my lines. You know the studio won’t be happy if I’m not happy,” Shreyashi threatened, her finger pointing at the director.
    The director rolled his eyes at Shreyashi and called out, “Change of plans. We’ll do a couple more takes just for safety!”
    Megan was by the food table. Her mom hadn’t left her side for a second.
    Shreyashi vanished through the corridor, and since my mission was accomplished for now, I went over to grab myself some breakfast.
    “If you mess up again, the studio’s going to think you’re not good enough for this. You need to focus. Why did you bring Sophie?