The Accidental Siren

4.5 Camera Tests

When left unsatisfied, lust becomes violence.

Enter Danny B.

Somewhere in the valley--well beyond The Great Divide--A.J.'s father was working with friends to plow a firebreak through his acreage. Every few minutes a man would shout and the tractor would stop. Sometimes they laughed, and the sound would bounce and multiply through the trees, personifying my forest with the illusion of masculine camaraderie. If the bullies were down there with the adults, then they were either helping with the firebreak, or playing at the end of a short leash. But I left my camera at home, just in case.

Mara sat in a swatch of grass among tall purple flowers that smelled like onions. She recited her lines to a raggedy Cabbage Patch Doll as I followed along in the screenplay. The distant hum of the plow never left my consciousness.

“Dorothy, you look horrible,” Mara said to the doll. “Your hair is all messed up, your dress is wrinkled, and your arm is about to fall off!” She pulled Dorothy to her ear and pretended to listen. “I'm sorry I was rude. You actually look nice. We've just been havin' a bad week, haven't we?”

My dialogue never sounded so good.

Mara dropped Dorothy and looked at me. “Why am I talking to a doll?”

“Well,” I began, “this is the first scene in the movie and I want to show that The Girl is just a little kid. So many things are gonna happen on her journey and by the end, she's gonna be all grown up. I wanted to find a way to show that she changes. If the audience doesn't see somethin' change, the movie'll be boring.”

“Where'd ya learn all this stuff?”

“Parents got me a screenwriting book last Christmas.”

Mara pressed her elbow on her knee and her chin on her fist. “Maybe I should wear pretty makeup for this scene.”

“Yeah?” I patted my jeans for a pen.

“Pigtails too. That way, as the movie goes along, the makeup can come off and my hair can get messy and I'll look really different by the end.”

“Darnit!” I said. “Whit's got the notebook. You have a pen?”

Mara pulled a naked red crayon from her pocket. “The twins keep leaving me gifts,” she said. “Yesterday it was a baseball card and a rolled up tube of toothpaste.” She tossed me the crayon.

“The makeup thing... it's a really good idea.”

“Don't you think the doll is a little boring?”

I looked up. “Boring?”

“Maybe we could get something real. Maybe the girl has a pet! I see kittens in the newspaper all the time. Sometimes they're free.”

“Real animals...” I muttered. “Holy production value!”

“I always wanted a kitten,” Mara said. “Ms. Grisham never let me have a pet.”

“I'll talk to Mom. Betcha she'll go for it.” I scribbled the new ideas in the margins of my script and said, “Boy oh boy, Whit's gonna love this!”

“You're always talkin' about Whit,” Mara said. “When do I get to meet him?”

I shrugged. “Maybe someday.”

In the valley, a man yelled and the plow sputtered to a halt.

“Wanna run it again?” I asked.

Mara nodded and picked up the doll. “I'll pretend it's a kitten.” A robin's whistle punctuated her smile.

“Ready?”