What I Like About You - Marisa Kanter Page 0,42

takes a seat next to me at the table, placing my bowl of ice cream in front of me. “Do you have any plans today?”

I take a spoonful of ice cream. “I’m helping Autumn with her portfolio piece for film school. But that’s not until later.”

I didn’t expect to miss Le Crew while Nash and I weren’t speaking. I was so nervous returning to their lunch table after weeks of library lunches, but they acted like I’d never left. Which I’m pretty sure means they missed me too. I don’t know. I’m not exactly used to navigating these friendship feels. But I am glad to be back.

Yesterday, I sent Autumn notes on her script, as promised, and wow, she is bad at dialogue. But her concept is amazing—and the idea of being on a film set tonight is more exciting than I’ll ever admit out loud. My college future feels so out of my control, it’ll be nice to focus on someone else’s.

“Next Harry Potter?” Gramps asks.

I nod.

Gramps is such a Potterhead and he never even knew it. He resisted the hype even though Grams could not have been a bigger fan, but now we’ve been making our way through the movies, one each weekend. Now that he’s actually giving them a shot, he’s obsessed. We’re working our way through my boxed set and Gramps asks me a million questions, wants everyone’s origin stories, the whole nine yards.

It’s kind of adorable.

Last week, he made me take the sorting hat quiz for him.

He’s a Hufflepuff.

“But the only cool Hufflepuffs died!”

Gramps has yet to come to terms with his Puff-ness.

We transition to the living room, ice cream bowls in hand. I set up Order of the Phoenix while Gramps takes his preferred couch corner, Scout claiming her spot in the middle.

“Ready?” I ask, popping the DVD into the player.

“I don’t know. How much more can this poor kid be put through?”

“Four more movies worth of sweet, sweet torture.”

I settle into my spot on the couch and scoop a giant spoonful of ice cream. For the next few hours, there is no college anxiety, no One True Pastry, no wondering if Nash is texting Halle or Kels—or worse, both, now that we’re friends. I shut everything out and focus on Harry, whose problems are infinitely worse than mine, tbh.

But honestly, it’s watching Gramps that’s the best distraction.

* * *

After Harry has defeated Voldemort once again, Autumn is filming her masterpiece at Maple Street Sweets, and it’s all hands on deck.

Actors have been recruited from the MHS drama club—two juniors, Lil Rivera and Monique Jackson, are Autumn’s stars.

Molly handles all aspects of design—set, costumes, hair, and makeup. Sawyer bakes two dozen cupcakes to have on standby. Nash sets up grip and electric. And I have the distinct honor of being Autumn’s AD—assistant director—as well as the resident reviser of scripts. I don’t even realize how much I miss being behind a camera until I’m holding one in my hand again. The equipment may be amateur and, okay, we’re shooting a five-minute narrative, not a ninety-minute documentary, but it’s fun using this part of my brain again.

Autumn’s film is called Look Down, Swipe Right. “OBJECTIVE: Queer WOC on a date because WE EXIST” is written in Autumn’s handwriting at the top of the storyboard attached to my clipboard.

If it comes out the way it looks in my head, she’s getting into USC. It is current—the use of dating apps and cell phones as both an initiating and distracting device. It is sweet (cupcakes!) and it is light (seriously, why is every portfolio piece on YouTube so dark?). Yet there’s a depth to it—not a coming-out story, but a first-date story.

I’m trying to set the white balance on the camera when Nash jumps into the frame and strikes the most ridiculous pose.

“Hey,” he says.

“Not camera shy. Noted.”

Every time I pivot to reposition the camera to focus on the white backdrop, Nash follows the lens. His lips are tinted frosting blue and I’m shaking my head like, If you’re going to eat the props, at least be more stealth about it? Maybe?

I let the camera hang heavily around my neck and put my hand on my hip, half annoyed. “I’m trying to white balance.”

“What’s that?” Nash asks.

“It’s so the camera understands the lighting of the room, basically. There’s a setting for incandescent light already, but my parents taught me to never trust the presets. So I always do it manually.”

Nash is perplexed. “You need to tell a

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