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 upOrder of the Phoenixwhile 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 calledLook 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 camera that white is white?”
“Yeah. Look.” I hold the camera up, pointing it toward Autumn and Molly, putting the finishing touches on the date-night table set. “See how everything is kind of tinted yellow? It means the last time Autumn used it, she was probably shooting outside in natural light. Our eyes compensate for this light change automatically, but the camera needs help. So …” I point the camera back toward the white backdrop and scroll throughthe menu to the white balance setting. Accept the changes, and pivot back to get Molly and Autumn in the shot. “We white balance.”
Nash looks ridiculously impressed, like I’m speaking in quantum theory or something. “That looks so much better. Why don’t I know this?”
I shrug. “It only matters to professionals. Our phones do it for us.”
Nash jumps back in front of the camera. “How do I look? Now that I’m properly white balanced?”
“Your blue lips really pop now,” I say.
“I’m going to pretend you said the camera loves me,” Nash says.
It does.
“The cupcakes are for the film, you know.”
