The Winner's Game (12 page)

Her words hang in the air like a balloon, which I quickly pop with a few more sharp words. “It's those two! They're so immature.”

“Oh, figures you'd point the finger at us, Miss Perfect,” snaps Bree. “You should take a look in the mirror once in a while. Cade and I would get along just fine if you weren't always bossing us around.”

“No we wouldn't,” Cade counters. “You're both dumb, and I wouldn't get along with either of you.”

“STOP IT!” Mom's voice has become shrill. “Oh my goodness. You can't treat each other like that. It's got to stop.”

I'm gripping the steering wheel so tight that my knuckles are turning white. “We're just tired,” I mutter, “because
someone
got us up too early.”

“Oh, so it's
my
fault? Well then, let's turn this ship around right now so you can go take a nap. We don't need to be in this movie anyway.”

In almost perfect unison all three of us shout, “No!”

“We'll be good,” I promise.

“
Please
, let's keep going,” begs Bree, suddenly sounding like the sweetest thing ever. “Being in a movie sounds so awesome.”

After thinking for a moment, Mom offers a proposition. “Tell you what. We'll keep driving to Astoria, but only if the ugliness stops right now. Let's only let kind words pass our lips. One more outburst and we turn right around.”

Naturally, everyone agrees.

I can tell the Walrus has loads of power, but with me behind the wheel it never realizes its full potential. By the time we arrive at the designated location in downtown Astoria, the parking lot is nearly full. Before we're able to find an open space, a man waves us down.

He approaches my window. “Nice ride.”

“Thanks. It's my great-grandma's.”

“Well, Great-granny's got some great style.” He gives the car a good long look before asking if we're there to be extras in the movie. When I tell him we are, he breaks the unfortunate news that we are too late. “We've already got everyone we need. Some folks showed up as early as five this morning just to get a spot in line, so I've been turning people away for the last thirty minutes.”

“That's not fair,” says Mom coolly. It kind of strikes me as funny, because she and Dad are always the ones reminding us how things aren't supposed to be fair. “We're here on time.”

“It's OK,” I tell her. “We tried.”

But it isn't OK to Mom. She leans over me so she can talk to the man through my window. “You mean they can't find room for three more kids?”

“I think it's more than that, ma'am. Extras cost money, and we've already got plenty for the scenes today. It's just the way these things go.”

“So you work for the movie company, then?”

“I do. I report to the first assistant director, who's off prepping the extras right now.”

“And does the first assistant director have a name?”

“Uh…yeah. It's Jody.”

Mom smiles sweetly and waves. “Thank you.” Then she sits straight up in her seat and lowers her voice so the man can't hear. “You kids stay put. I'll be back in a jiffy.” She gives a reassuring wink, then climbs out. Before her door closes, I hear her say, “Can you point me in Jody's direction?” Without waiting for the man's answer, she starts marching toward a series of large tents along the far edge of the parking lot.

“Uh, ma'am,” he calls, chasing after her. “You can't just…I mean, there's no way. The spots are full.”

She brushes him off and keeps walking.

Five minutes later Mom comes back into view, only now she is walking beside a dark-haired woman carrying a clipboard. The man from before is nowhere to be seen. The woman strides right up to my door and crouches low enough that I'm eye to eye with her. “Hey there. I hear you kids want to be in a movie.”

“Of course. But the guy said they're full.”

The woman, who I assume is Jody, cocks her head very sympathetically. “Well, there's always an exception. Your mom and I had a little talk, and I think we can find a way to get you in. If you'd like to park the car, I'll personally take you over to Wardrobe and get you rolling. OK?”

Something about this doesn't feel right to me, but in my excitement I ignore the feeling. Whatever Mom said to them, it worked!

Jody takes us directly to a makeup tent, where professionals apply a quick layer of powder to cut down on the sun's glare, then she leads us two blocks north to an old, historic county jail in the heart of the city. There's a lot more gear there than I expected—cameras on special tracks, lights hanging from temporary scaffolding, microphones on special booms, and power cords running every which way on the ground—but there are far fewer people than I would have guessed, especially given all the extras we saw back at the staging area.

When I ask where everyone else is, Jody explains, “The scene you guys are in is where one of the villains breaks out of jail. His family will come speeding up to the jailhouse, he'll jump in their jeep and then speed off. We just need a few pedestrians in the background when that happens. Most of the other extras are heading to a beach down south of here for a much bigger scene where an old pirate ship sets off on its final voyage at sea.”

Her last sentence causes Cade's eyes to bulge. Literally.

“Wait…a…minute,” he stammers. “I knew this movie had something to do with pirates, but there's an actual pirate ship? And they're filming it
today
?”

“Of course.”

“Uh-oh,” quips Bree.

“And I'm not in it?”

“Well…no,” Jody says, sounding unsure. “This was the scene I thought would be best for you guys.”

“Here we go again,” I whisper.

Curling his lips, Cade impolitely snarls, “Avast! This be the wrong scene for the likes of Cap'n Cade!”

Jody chuckles at his performance. It takes her another second or two to catch on that he's totally serious. “But in the other scene you guys would just be faces in the crowd, way back in the distance. Here, we'll actually get to see who you are on the big screen.”

“You shouldn't have mentioned pirates,” Bree states. “He's a bit loco over them, if you know what I mean.” She's twirling a finger around the side of her head in the universal gesture for “crazy.” Then she covers one side of her mouth and carefully whispers her words, as if to protect Cade from what she's going to say, even though it's obvious that she wants him to hear every bit of it. “B-t-dubs, the whole family hates it when he turns into ‘Captain Cade.' We're hoping he grows out of it.”

Mom takes a giant step forward and gently grabs Bree's arm near the elbow. “That's enough, young lady. Let's just drop it.”

“It's the truth, though,” she continues. “Who goes around talking like a pirate?”

Cade's hands are at his side, but they're clenched, prepared to strike. “Watch yer tongue, lass, or I'll gut you like a fish!”

“He's
really
good,” Jody comments, sounding genuinely impressed.

“Please don't tell him that.” I sigh. “He's liable to go on like this for hours. Maybe even days.”

Now Mom steps right into the middle of us, making sure Cade has no path to Bree or me. “Cade,
stop
.” Her voice is still motherly, but she definitely means business. “Ann and Bree, zip it. Got it?” She turns back to my brother. “Cade, this is the scene you've been assigned to. You're lucky to be in it at all, so don't ruin it. Just let the pirate thing go.” She holds his gaze until he finally looks away.

In frustration, he quietly spits out what is becoming his favorite pirate-swear. “Poop deck!”

Mom frowns ominously, but the assistant director laughs it off. “The kid's got spunk. I like that.”

Jody has a few things to wrap up ahead of the shoot, but before leaving she introduces us to another of her assistants, who is giving detailed scene instructions to the other extras. We spend the next half hour with five other pedestrians—a jogger, a businessman, a mother with a baby stroller, and a middle-aged couple—sorting out where to stand and how to behave when the so-called “bad guy,” played by a man named Jake, comes busting out of jail. Cade is assigned to be the son of the middle-aged couple. His only prop is a very real looking ice-cream cone made of plastic, which he is instructed to lick as he strolls along the sidewalk near the jailhouse. Mom, Bree, and me are a bit farther ahead of Cade along the sidewalk, much closer to where the action will happen. We're coached to walk “gracefully, as though out for a Sunday stroll without a care in the world” and then to scream when the getaway car comes screeching to a stop on the street just ahead of us. The rest of the extras are on the other side of the scene, walking toward us at various intervals.

By the time we've got it down, word spreads that the director is nowhere to be found. When he finally shows up—almost thirty minutes late—he looks frazzled. Without wasting any time he barks out a few orders and crosses the street to a chair on the opposite sidewalk. He grabs a megaphone to get everyone's attention. “Listen up! Quiet on the set! We're running way behind today, and we're renting this street by the hour, so I need this to go smooth, like a baby's butt. Raise your hand if you don't understand?” He doesn't wait for anyone to respond. “Good. I'm told the cameras and mics are hot, so let's do this, people. This is the easiest sequence in the whole movie. If we need more than one take, I'll be extremely disappointed. More than two, and there'll be some explaining to do, because I've got to get out to the other shoot on the beach. Word is that the wind is picking up and the pirate ship is ready to sail.”

Upon hearing the word “pirate,” Mom, Bree, and I all look at each other and then turn around in unison to stare at Cade. Mom even raises a finger in warning.

I'm pretty sure he sees us, but he hardly notices us, if that makes sense. I can practically see his mind working, trying to figure out how to get the director to take him to the beach to be a pirate in the other scene.

In the middle of my thoughts, I faintly hear the word, “Action!”

As rehearsed, we begin moving toward the center of the scene. A few seconds later, the front door of the tiny jail swings outward, and a tall Italian-looking guy with straight dark hair comes running out, just as a gray jeep comes screeching up the street. I know I'm supposed to be looking ahead, but an unexpected movement behind me draws my attention to the rear.

I turn just in time to see Cade bolting from his fake parents.

Compelled by his inner pirate, he runs at full speed toward the escapee, screaming like a banshee. Without slowing, he rushes right past me. There's nothing any of us can do but gasp and watch. Holding his plastic ice-cream cone as a sword, he bears down on the actor. Distracted by Cade's fearsome approach, the poor actor stops dead in his tracks on the sidewalk, right next to the getaway car. “I'll run ye through like a pig!” Cade screams. “And send ye to the depths of Davy Jones' Locker!” He presses the ice-cream cone to the man's stomach and furrows his brow menacingly.

If I'm being honest, my brother's acting is brilliant. Should the cast and crew start clapping, I wouldn't be at all surprised. But instead of clapping, there is a terrible silence for several awkward moments. Then the actor grimaces, looks around in bewilderment, and asks, “Uhh…did they add that to the script?”

More silence follows.

I look to my right to see the director approaching from the other side of the street. When he reaches Cade, he just stands there, looming, for several breaths. I can't read him very well. He's either very impressed by my brother's impromptu performance or he's having an aneurism. One of his arms is tucked beneath the other; the free hand is covering his mouth. With his mouth thus covered, the words he eventually speaks come out even more garbled than Grandma Grace's. “Gid ab my sut.”

“What?” Cade asks, lowering his ice-cream weapon.

The director slowly drops both hands to his side, then bends to Cade's level and points down the street in the direction of the bay. “
Get…off…my…set!”
Without another word he turns and paces back to his chair.

Before I know it, Mom is taking Cade by the arm. “Let's go,” she hisses.

“Wait!” shouts Bree. “Do we have to go too?”

“Shut up!” I hiss quietly, hoping not to draw attention.

Then the megaphone blares again. “Anyone who is here with that kid is hereby excused. Quickly, please. Thank you.”

Mom is dragging Cade by the shirtsleeve. When Pirate Boy looks over his shoulder, Bree's face is bright red. If her eyes were guns, I'm sure Cade would be dead, because they are zeroed in on him with lethal precision. “I hate you,” she mouths.

I'm upset too, but I know we can't just stand there doing nothing. Everyone is staring at us, waiting for us to leave. I grab Bree's hand and tug her along behind Mom and Cade.

Several blocks away, just before we reach the Walrus, Jody comes running up from behind, breathing hard. “Talk about a show-stopping performance,” she says between gasps. “Nice job, kid.” She lifts a hand to give Cade a high five.

“Really?” says Mom curtly. “Did you not see what he did back there?”

Jody is still all smiles. “Look, I'm really sorry you got the boot like that, guys, but you've got to admit, that was hilarious.” Nobody seems relieved by her comments. “Believe it or not, the director is actually a pretty nice guy. On any other day he'd probably have been rolling on the ground laughing, maybe even worked Cade's ad-lib into the scene.”

“What makes today so special?” I ask.

“He was meeting all morning with the producers discussing the budget. That's why he was late on the set. Right now the production costs are running high, so he's a little stressed. Unfortunately, he took it out on you guys.”