Kristy and the Vampires Page 3

  As for me, it was hard to imagine being bored on a movie set. I mean, it’s true that I did a lot of standing around and waiting, but there was so much to look at and listen to. The first time I heard the director say, “Action” (they really do say that!), I got little shivers down my back, and I knew right then I was going to love being on the set. This was definitely going to be the most exciting babysitting job I’d ever had.

  By eleven the next morning, my feet were really starting to kill me. I had learned by then that standing around doing nothing is one of the main activities on a movie set. Everybody does it. Why? Well, the thing is, every person on the set has a very specific job — for example, taking care of one certain light, or standing by with a powder puff to fix actors’ makeup between shots — and when you’re not doing your job, there’s nothing to do but stand around and wait until you’re needed.

  I’d learned a few other things about movie sets, too. For one thing, I fit right in, fashionwise. The only person I ever saw dressed up was Sheila Mayberry, the publicist. Just about everybody else — except the actors, when they were in costume — wore jeans, or shorts, and ratty T-shirts. That outfit, plus maybe a baseball cap, was practically the uniform for the set.

  My other new moviemaking fact was this: they never film the scenes in sequence, the way you see them in the finished picture, so if Derek hadn’t told me about the plot of the movie, I might never have figured it out. What filmmakers do is shoot all the scenes that take place in a certain location at once, to save money. That makes total sense, considering all the people and equipment that have to be moved around to each location. So, the scenes I was watching them shoot were not necessarily in any order (at least, not in any order that made sense to me). After they were finished with the scenes at the ballfield, the whole operation would move inside to the school gym, and then to that house near Mary Anne’s. After all the Stoneybrook scenes were completed, the cast and crew would head for California, where they would shoot some final interior scenes in the studio.

  Anyway, the scene they were shooting that day was one in which Laddie (Carson Fraser) was trying to trick Derek’s character, whose name is Jason, into drinking his blood! Ew, right? Only it wasn’t as bad as it sounds. It wasn’t like he was opening a vein and telling Jason to drink up. Instead, he offers him what looks like cherry Kool-Aid, from a glass jar. The scene is supposed to be kind of light and funny, since Jason just keeps saying that he’s not thirsty, or that he has some Gatorade of his own. Laddie keeps trying to talk him into drinking the blood, but he keeps being frustrated in his attempts. Lucky thing, of course, since if Jason drank the blood, that would be his first step on the way to becoming a vampire himself.

  As I stood watching, I became more and more impressed with Derek’s skill as an actor. Before each shot, the director (whose name is Harry) would walk up to Carson and Derek and chat with them for a while, telling them about what was supposed to happen in the shot and giving them specific instructions on how to say their lines. “Keep it light, here,” he’d say to Derek, or “Don’t give us too much — hold back for the next shot.” Derek would nod, and when the cameras were rolling he would do exactly as Harry had told him.

  Carson, on the other hand, seemed to spend a lot more time complaining about the way his costume fit than listening to Harry. Harry kept urging Carson to work on his accent, which was supposed to be vaguely Transylvanian, but Carson didn’t seem to want to be bothered.

  I was beginning to see that Derek pretty much upstaged Carson during any scene that featured the two of them. He wasn’t doing it on purpose, I was sure of that. He understood Carson was the star and that his was only a supporting role. It was just that he cared enough to give it his best shot, and his best shot beat Carson’s lukewarm performance every time.

  The real story that day, though, was not what happened during filming. It was what happened during the lunch break, as Derek and I were heading for the caterer’s truck.

  Remember how I noticed that Derek had grown since the last time I’d seen him? Well, apparently he hadn’t quite gotten used to his new, gangly body; he didn’t seem entirely comfortable in it. The first hint I had of this problem was when he climbed out of the limo that second morning, right after I had arrived on the set. Now, Derek’s limo does have a driver, but he’s not the kind of driver who steps out and opens the door for you. So when the car pulled up, Derek pushed open the door (he was alone, since Todd wasn’t needed on the set yet) and climbed out. But instead of making a suave and movie-star-ish entrance, Derek stumbled over his own feet, nearly fell, grabbed the car door to catch himself, and ripped his sleeve on the latch.

  “Derek, are you okay?” I asked, running over to him.

  “I’m fine,” he said, blushing, as he looked around to see if anybody else had noticed.

  Not long afterward, when Derek was in makeup, he had another little accident. It involved the plastic cape that Missy had draped around him, and several cans, jars, and bottles that were laid out on the shelf beneath the mirror — and it wasn’t pretty. Missy was nice about it, though, even after she and Derek bumped heads as they both bent to pick up some of the stuff that had been swept off the shelf.

  I watched Derek closely as we walked to the set, trying to make sure he didn’t fall over any cables or knock any lights off their stands — but the trip was uneventful. Still, I was beginning to realize that Derek was in a very uncoordinated stage.

  Because of that, I wasn’t too surprised at what happened on our way to lunch. As we walked past the trucks and vans, Derek was explaining what each one was. “That’s where the sound technicians work,” he said, pointing out one truck. “And the carpenters keep all their stuff in this one.” Then he ran up to a large red van parked near the caterer’s truck. Big white letters on its sides said “Hill’s Props.” “This is the propmaster’s van,” he told me. “They always have really neat stuff here.”

  Sure enough, the back of the van was open, and I could see all kinds of fascinating items. There was lots of baseball equipment, of course, but there was also stuff that I figured must be for shoots at other locations. I saw some rubber bats — not baseball bats, but the furry, flying kind — and a baby carriage, and a pile of fake fruit.

  “Check this out,” said Derek, picking up a beautiful stained-glass lamp. “I’m sure it’s made of plastic, but it looks real, doesn’t it? This must be for the scene in the professor’s study, when my friends and I go to consult with him about vampires.” He held it up over his head. “Like my hat?” he asked, grinning. The sun shone through the glass and made little colored spots — red, purple, and green — on his face.

  “Derek —” I began. I was just about to tell him to be careful, when the lamp slipped out of his hands, fell to the ground, and shattered into what looked like a million pieces. “Oh, no,” I moaned.

  “I guess it wasn’t plastic,” Derek said. “Oops!”

  “Oops?” roared a voice behind us. “You destroy a one-of-a-kind Tiffany lamp I spent six weeks trying to find, and that’s all you can say? Oops?”

  I turned around and saw a tall, skinny man with bright red hair and a face to match.

  “Um, Kristy,” said Derek, always polite, “this is Zeke Hill, the propmaster. Zeke, this is —”

  “I don’t care who she is,” Zeke shouted, “unless she’s going to pay for that lamp or create another one on the spot. This is unbelievable. I swore I would never work on a set with kids again, but just this once I let Harry talk me into it. Cliff is going to have my head. I must have been nuts.” He bent down and began to pick up shards of brilliantly colored glass.

  “I’m really sorry, Zeke,” said Derek, bending to help.

  “Get out of here, kid,” said Zeke. “And don’t come fooling around my van again, got it?”

  “Got it,” said Derek, backing off. “Come on,” he hissed to me. We made tracks for the lunch truck. Derek didn’t say a thing about the lamp incident as we helped ourselves to sandwich
es, soda, and cookies. I think he just wanted to forget all about it.

  But five minutes after we sat down to eat, Sheila Mayberry came waltzing up in a pair of pink heels. That day she was wearing a gauzy pink blouse and silky black pants, and her hair was held back with rhinestone clips — pink, of course.

  “Derek,” she said, “I just talked to Zeke.”

  “Oh, great,” said Derek, under his breath. “Is he still mad?” he asked Sheila. “Is he going to tell Harry?”

  “He was planning to, but I talked him out of it.” She leaned forward and spoke in a confidential tone. “I don’t want word to get out on this until I put it out.”

  “What are you talking about?” Derek asked.

  “This is a great little story!” she said eagerly. “I’ll plant some pieces in the trade magazines, and maybe in People, or Newsweek. The press will eat it up. It’s a great human interest story — everybody can relate to clumsy, growing boys.”

  I was confused. “Won’t that make Derek look silly?” I asked. “I mean, a story like that doesn’t really reflect all that well on the movie, does it?”

  “Let me tell you something, honey,” said Sheila.

  “Her name’s Kristy,” said Derek.

  “We have a saying in P.R. — public relations, that is,” Sheila went on. “It goes like this, Kristin —”

  “Kristy,” I said.

  “Whatever,” she said. “The saying is, ‘There’s no such thing as bad publicity.’ And it’s one hundred percent true, believe me.”

  “I don’t get it,” I said.

  “She means that no matter what a story says, it brings attention to the movie,” Derek explained. “And attention is always good.”

  “Yes, Derek!” said Sheila, sounding like a kindergarten teacher. “He’s right,” she added, turning to me. “My goal is to have Little Vampires on the tip of everybody’s tongue by the time it airs on TV this fall. This business is all about ratings, and my job depends on good ones.”

  I nodded. “I understand,” I said. But I wasn’t sure I really did. The whole thing seemed a little ridiculous to me. But then, the movie set was like a whole different world, and I guess I shouldn’t have been surprised that it had different rules. I was beginning to see that it was going to take me awhile to learn them all.

  “Can we go? Please? Pretty please?” That was Margo, who was hanging on Mal’s arm and pleading with all her might. (Seven-year-olds are good at that.)

  “Let’s go watch them make a movie — I know it will be totally groovy,” said Vanessa, dreamily. Vanessa’s nine. She wants to be a poet someday, and she practices by speaking in rhyme whenever possible.

  “I’d like to go,” said Mal. “But —” She nodded her head toward Claire, who was sitting on the living room rug, singing softly to herself. Claire, the youngest Pike, is five. “How about it, Claire?” she asked gently. “Want to go watch them make the movie?”

  “No! No!” screamed Claire, suddenly upset. “I won’t go, and you can’t make me!”

  Mallory was taking care of her three sisters that Friday morning, as she would be most mornings during the summer. Both of her parents were at work, and her brothers were playing soccer every day at the summer recreation program that meets in the park. (Mal has four brothers: Nicky, who’s eight, and Adam, Jordan, and Byron, who are all ten — they’re identical triplets!)

  “What’s her problem?” asked Vanessa, disgustedly.

  “Her problem is that Adam and Jordan have been filling her head with stories about vampires,” said Mal, “and now she’s so scared that she won’t go near the set.”

  “Vampires suck your blood,” said Claire. “They come and get you in the night, and bite your neck.” She looked up at Mal, wide-eyed. “It’s true, you know.”

  Mal sighed. “It isn’t, really,” she said. “It’s just a story.”

  “No,” said Claire stoutly. “It’s true. Some people think it’s just a story, but Adam said they’re wrong.”

  Mal rolled her eyes. “Wait’ll I get my hands on him,” she muttered.

  “Claire’s ruining everything,” said Margo, with a pout. “She’s being a baby. Scaredy cat, scaredy cat!” she taunted, sticking her tongue out at Claire.

  “Am not,” said Claire.

  “Can me and Margo go by ourselves?” asked Vanessa.

  “No way,” said Mal. “That set is full of trucks and people. I don’t want you guys hanging out there without me.” She walked over to the couch and sat down. “Claire, come sit on my lap for a minute,” she said, patting her knees. “I want to talk to you.”

  Claire climbed up onto Mal’s lap, and Mal took a deep breath. She told me later that it took everything she had to keep a patient, understanding tone in her voice while she had a long talk with Claire about things that are real and things that are imaginary, and about why some people enjoy scary stories and others don’t, and about how the vampires in the movies are only actors playing parts.

  Finally, Mal convinced Claire that it would be safe to visit the set. By that time, of course, Mal was exhausted — but she was still determined to go. So were Vanessa and Margo.

  Things were really hopping on the set by the time they arrived. Filming was being done inside the school that day, in the gym, since it was pouring outside. The scenes in the gym, Derek had explained to me, were supposed to be taking place at an end-of-the-season Little League party for players and their friends. In the movie, Carson’s character, Laddie, brings a few “cousins” to the party — who are actually other vampires, sent from Transylvania to help him with his mission. They’re very charming young men, and everybody at the party thinks they’re wonderful.

  Then, once the party is in full swing, the young men change into vampires — fangs, glowing red eyeballs, and all. They terrorize Jason (Derek) and his friends, and then swoop off into the night.

  The guys who were playing the vampires were having a blast that day. This was their first time in full vampire makeup, and they couldn’t seem to get enough of walking up to people and saying things like, “I vant to drink your blooood!” Harry, the director, was going nuts trying to make them settle down. Derek, who was, of course, in “normal kid” makeup, acted disgusted — although I had a feeling he might have been a little jealous.

  He had just finished shooting his big scene of the day, in which Laddie interrupts while Jason is talking with a pretty red-headed girl. As usual, Derek had looked totally professional. At least, he looked professional right up until the end, when he ruined the shot by slipping and falling in the middle of the gym floor.

  Harry was exasperated. “Masters,” he said, “I never knew you were such a klutz. We’re going to have to shoot that scene again. I’ll squeeze it in next week, who knows where, but it can’t be today. We’re on a tight schedule here, and everybody else is already made up and ready for the next shot.”

  “But, Harry,” I heard Derek say, “it wasn’t my fault. There was something spilled on the —”

  But Harry had turned his back and was consulting with the lighting technician.

  While we waited for the cameramen to set up for the next shot, Derek and I stood together in one corner of the gym. “I can’t believe I fell,” said Derek. “But there was something slippery on the floor. This time it really wasn’t my fault.”

  “I know,” I said, patting his shoulder. I could see he felt terrible about ruining the shot. I tried to think of some way to change the subject, but I wasn’t having much luck — until I spotted Mal standing over on the sidelines with Margo, Claire, and Vanessa. “Hey, Mal! Come here.” I waved them over.

  “Are you sure it’s okay for the girls and me to be here?” Mal asked, as she approached us.

  “Sure,” Derek said. “If anybody asks, just tell them you’re with me.”

  Mal looked around at all the lights and equipment. “This is so cool,” she breathed. Then she turned back to Derek. “You were great in that scene, Derek,” she said. “Are you, um, okay
?”

  “I’m fine.” He looked embarrassed.

  Claire seemed nervous, and I noticed she stayed close to Mal, but Vanessa and Margo were scanning the room eagerly. “Where’s Carson?” Vanessa asked Derek. “I want his autograph.”

  I glanced at Derek, worried that he might feel slighted because Vanessa didn’t want his autograph. But he seemed to understand that he was old news to the Stoneybrook kids.

  “He’s in makeup, having his fangs adjusted,” said Derek.

  “Fangs?” asked Claire, anxiously.

  Before any of us could remind her that they were just fake fangs, something awful happened. One of the vampires came running through the gym door and swooped right up to Claire. “Hello, my pretty,” he said, baring his fangs and letting his red eyes flash. “Care to dance?”

  “Aaaah! Aaaah!” screamed Claire. She turned and raced out of the gym.

  “What’d I do?” asked the vampire, bewildered. “I was just kidding around.”

  “Yeah, well, I guess you kidded around with the wrong kid,” Derek said, shaking his head.

  Mal grabbed Vanessa and Margo. “Come on, you guys!” she said. “We have to find her. ‘Bye, Kristy! ‘Bye, Derek!”

  Vanessa and Margo followed Mal out of the gym, looking back at Derek and me with wistful glances.

  By the time they were gone, the vampire had run off to find his next victim, and Derek and I just looked at each other and shrugged. “Another day on the set,” said Derek. “I hope she’ll be okay.”

  Claire was okay, Mal told me later. At least, sort of. She did manage to stop shrieking by the time they all got home. Vanessa and Margo weren’t happy about leaving the set, and both of them stomped upstairs to sulk. But Claire headed straight for the kitchen and started to rummage through the cabinets. “Do we have any garlic?” she asked Mal.

  “Sure,” said Mal, helping her find it. “Why do you want it?”

  “To keep vampires away, of course,” said Claire. “Also, I need some water to throw on them if they come near me,” she went on, filling a jar at the kitchen sink, “and a mirror, so I can hold it up and see if they have any reflection. If they don’t, that proves they’re vampires.”