The Real Z

Coffee Talk

After school the next day, Z and Lauren scooter down to the Beanery, the coffee shop Mari’s parents run, to catch Mari’s band’s set. Z can’t stop singing “Singin’ in the Rain” the whole ride over, and once they lock up their scooters she shouts up at the sunny sky, daring it to rain on her, spinning around like she’s Gene Kelly himself. Lauren, unimpressed, jokes that Z should stop begging Mother Nature for rain now that the weather’s finally nice, and guesses Z is dehydrated.

Inside, the espresso machine hums and Mari’s mom rings up kids in line for bubble tea while people work and chat at the long wooden tables. Mari, in a funky black shirt dress with a purple belt, has saved seats up front for Z and Lauren. While Lauren goes to order drinks, Mari teases Z about spotting Popcorn wearing her GoPro on their walk that morning. Z admits she was chasing a “dog’s-eye view” idea after seeing last year’s CloudSong Young Filmmakers’ winner strap a camera to a stop sign, though her own attempt mostly just caught grass and tree stumps.

Z decides it’s time to pitch her real idea. Since Seattle is famous for its drizzle, what if Mari’s band, Needles in a Haystack, recorded their own spin on “Singin’ in the Rain” for Z’s documentary? Mari is floored, and once she gathers her bandmates to explain the CloudSong contest, they huddle up while Z waits anxiously outside the circle, then Mari turns around and says they’d love to be her rock stars. Z whoops and hugs every member of the band, then grabs her camera to film their set. Needles in a Haystack calls itself a rock band, though Z privately thinks its bouncy covers sound more like the pop songs on the radio, and the whole Beanery claps along. She catches Lauren returning with their strawberry-mango bubble teas, jelly hearts sinking to the bottom of the cups, and gets footage of Lauren, who almost never lets herself be filmed, playing air drums, totally into the show. Before the last song, Mari dedicates a new tune, “You Do You,” to Z, calling her Beanery’s favorite future-famous director. Afterward Mari jumps down beaming to ask what Z thought, and Z tells her they’re about to make the best music video ever.

With the band on board, Z heads to her favorite planning spot, the film archive center at Mom’s university, where the shelves are stacked with old film canisters and a projector loops silent clips on the wall. She finds Mom working and settles in to storyboard, but first checks the comments on the Z. Crew post about her CloudSong acceptance. Most are glowing, but one exchange nags at her, a commenter arguing that a real documentary means Z has to outdo her usual videos.

Z owns up to what’s really eating at her: she doesn’t want the judges deciding her movie is merely pretty good for a kid. She wants them declaring they’ve found the next big thing. Mom leads her past the information desk, where a student named Gabe greets Mom as Professor Yang, a title Z secretly loves. Gabe waves them into an empty screening room, where a flick of a switch parts the dusty velvet curtains to reveal a tiny private theater full of overstuffed seats. Mom cues up a clip reel of the very first films made by now-famous directors like Nora Ephron, Steven Spielberg, J.J. Abrams, and Mira Nair, some polished, but plenty rough and shaky. Mom’s point is that every filmmaker learns by trying, and taking chances is what makes movie magic happen. When Z lists everything she still wants to shoot, including a drone flyover of the waterfront, Mom just says she’s clearly taking chances like a real director should. They stay curled up together watching clips until the projector goes dark.