Free Unscripted Joss Byrd by Lygia Day Peñaflor

slams it against the tree.
    â€œI didn’t scratch it or anything!” Chris takes two steps back. “I leaned it, that’s all.”
    My heart is racing, remembering Rodney’s weight pressing against my chair.
    Rodney holds the metal ladder in front of Chris and shakes it at him. “You piece of shit! How stupid can you be?”
    I grasp my shoulders where Rodney touched me. I know how he smells and how dry and heavy his hands are.
    â€œRodney, the boat’s not even painted yet!” Jericho says.
    â€œShut up!” he screams at Jericho. Then he turns all his anger back to Chris. “I’ve been workin’ on that boat for a year!”
    Chris sticks his chin out. “From the couch?”
    Rodney flings the ladder across the backyard. It crashes and clangs onto the grass. “What did you say, you little turd?” he hisses.
    I shrink against the tree.
    â€œYou heard me.” Chris stands tall; his chest rises and falls. I want him to back down, to run.
    Rodney lunges forward, just as Chris dodges away. But Rodney grabs him by the back of his jeans. He lifts Chris off his feet and slams him against the boat.
    â€œTJ!” I scream, and shake.
    â€œCut!” Terrance calls.
    Terrance rubs his eyes and then clears his throat. “We’ll do it again. This time, just a beat faster between Chris and Rodney.” He holds his fingers up to measure a pinch. “Just a tad.” He looks at me and nods.
    When he lets out a breath, so do I.
    *   *   *
    Back in tutoring, I’m supposed to be studying a history chapter on Egyptians. Damon is helping me preread the section questions and showing me how to find bold words in the chapter because those are usually the answers. But I can’t concentrate, not when my nerves are still worked up about Rodney and the fight scene keeps churning outside our window. The crew turned the camera around; it’s replaced me in the tree so it can film the fight from Norah’s point of view. Terrance won’t need me again for a long while. I wonder how Chris is doing.
    â€œI’m afraid we’re not being very productive,” Damon whispers as we listen to Rodney yelling at Chris. “How about we take a break the next time Terrance calls cut?”
    This is fine with me because I’m pretty sure “break” is code for “watch the fight scene.” Damon’s been sneaking peeks out the window almost as often as I have.
    As soon as we get outside, I pick a snack from the craft service table—a package of shortbread cookies—then I sit in a chair behind Terrance and Peter Bustamante where they’re watching the monitors.
    â€œSnack break?” Peter asks me.
    â€œYes.”
    I want to ask Terrance how I was up in the tree, but the back of his head tells me he isn’t in a talking mood. I didn’t count how many takes we did, but do know I only messed up three times, maybe three and a half. That’s no more or less than the boys, so I think I did pretty okay, even though I felt more like myself than like Norah.
    I always feel very professional when I sit in these tall director’s chairs. During my first movie, my chair even said TALLULAH LEIGH on the back. The Locals didn’t bother personalizing chairs. That’s how I can tell if a movie has a big budget or a small budget. This chair only says CAST , but I still like sitting in it.
    Chris is inside the house while the camera is resetting. He’s probably working himself up to be upset, or maybe he already is. I wonder if he’s been using a trigger.
    â€œHere we go. Let’s everyone get back into place. Back to one,” Terrance says, and that’s when Chris comes out with a hand over his face.
    Jericho takes his mark in the middle of the grass, and Chris stands against the boat in front of Rodney, exactly where they stood when I was up in the tree.
    â€œRolling, rolling!”