Lights, Camera, Middle School!
Jennifer L. Holm
This is a work of fiction. Names, characters, places, and incidents either are the product of the authors’ imagination or are used fictitiously. Any resemblance to actual persons, living or dead, events, or locales is entirely coincidental.
Copyright © 2017 by Jennifer Holm and Matthew Holm
All rights reserved. Published in the United States by Random House Children’s Books, a division of Penguin Random House LLC, New York.
Random House and the colophon are registered trademarks of Penguin Random House LLC.
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Library of Congress Cataloging-in-Publication Data
Names: Holm, Jennifer L., author. | Holm, Matthew.
Title: Lights, camera, middle school! / by Jennifer L. Holm & Matthew Holm.
Description: First edition. | New York : Random House, [2017] | Series: Babymouse. Tales from the Locker | Summary: “Babymouse joins the school Film Club and writes the greatest cinematic masterpiece of all time! But when the movie gets shown to the entire school, will it be a box office hit or a flop?” —Provided by publisher.
Identifiers: LCCN 2016014341 | ISBN 978-0-399-55438-4 (hardcover) | ISBN 978-0-399-55439-1 (hardcover library binding) | ISBN 978-0-399-55440-7 (ebook)
Subjects: LCSH: Graphic novels. | CYAC: Graphic novels. | Motion pictures— Production and direction—Fiction. | Middle schools—Fiction. | Schools— Fiction. | Mice—Fiction. | Animals—Fiction. | Humorous stories.
Classification: LCC PZ7.7.H65 Li 2017 | DDC 741.5/973—dc23
Ebook ISBN 9780399554407
Random House Children’s Books supports the First Amendment and celebrates the right to read.
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Contents
Cover
Other Titles
Title Page
Copyright
Dedication
Chapter 1: Monster Movie
Chapter 2: Laws of the Jungle Cafeteria
Chapter 3: Epic Fail?
Chapter 4: A Dark and Squeaky Night
Chapter 5: Director’s Chair
Chapter 6: Action!
Chapter 7: That’s Amore!
Chapter 8: Diva Disaster
Chapter 9: Visionary
Chapter 10: In the Can
Chapter 11: Queen of the Castle
Chapter 12: Final Cut
Chapter 13: Red Carpet
Glossary of Important Film Terms
About the Authors
For Caden
—J.L.H.
For Kevin, who always put me in his movies
—M.H.
Middle school was like a movie.
Not a romantic-smoochy movie or a swashbuckling-pirate movie. Or even a space-aliens-invade-the-world kind of movie.
It was a monster movie.
The hallways were crawling with spooky creatures.
You were always having to run for your life.
And everywhere you turned, someone was trying to eat your brains.
But sometimes the scariest thing about middle school involved whiskers.
And, believe me, I know whiskers.
My name is Babymouse.
And this is my Tale from the Locker.
I was standing in front of my locker, trying to open it. As usual, the door was stuck. I had a love-hate relationship with my locker, aka “Locker.” Mostly I hated the big metal bully. (I swear it ate my homework!)
I banged on it for a minute, and finally it popped open.
“Hey, Babymouse,” a voice called.
I turned around to see Felicia Furrypaws.
If this was a monster movie, Felicia would be a Zombie. At middle school, Zombies travelled in packs and dressed the same. Instead of hunting brains, they wanted stuff: whatever was cool and “in.” It could be wedge sandals or ruffled scarves or sparkly lip gloss. They just had to have it.
Felicia and I had gone to elementary school together. With her perfectly straight whiskers, she had always been one of the popular girls. Today, she was sporting a plaid skirt, white tights, and a crisp white shirt with a ruffled bow. She looked stylish and French, like she’d walked out of a fashion ad. Her look shouted “Cool Girl.”
And my look? I wasn’t quite sure. I definitely wanted my look to say:
But I also wanted my look to say a lot of other things, including:
It was kind of hard to translate all this into a “look.”
Speaking of looks, Felicia was staring at my face.
“Did you straighten your whiskers?” she asked.
“Yes!” I said with a bright smile.
It was technically true. My whiskers were straight, even if they weren’t exactly mine. See, I’d tried straightening my whiskers using a fancy cream, but the harsh chemicals had burned them right off. So this morning, I’d glued on some false whiskers to hide the damage.
“You might want to use more glue next time,” she told me.
“What do you mean?” I asked.
“That,” she said, pointing at my nose. I realized that one of my whiskers was…dangling?
She blew at it.
I watched in horror as it fell off and floated to the floor in slow motion.
Felicia walked off, laughing.
Le sigh.
I was never going to be famous for my whiskers.
And that was the problem right there.
In elementary school, all I wanted to do was fit in. But now that I was in middle school, I wanted to stand out.
I wanted to be the one everyone was talking about!
I wanted to be Famous.
Mostly because I wanted a private jet. (The school bus was seriously stinky.)
The warning bell for first period rang. I couldn’t be late again. Mr. Ludwig was a lizard, and in addition to being cold-blooded, he was a stickler for being on time to homeroom. Which made no sense to me at all. You didn’t actually learn anything in homeroom. You just had to sit there and listen to announcements.
I searched through the bottom of my locker for my algebra book, but it wasn’t there. I turned to the boy who had the locker next to mine.
“Georgie,” I asked, “could you look on the top shelf of my locker and see if my algebra book is there?”
Georgie was like a movie star. Except instead of tall, dark, and handsome, he was tall, yellow, and…spotted.
“Sure, Babymouse,” he said. He reached up easily and pulled out my book.
“Thanks,” I said. “What are you going to sign up for?”
It was Activities Week. This was when kids signed up for extracurricular clubs and sports. And there were so many choices!
Georgie shrugged. “I’m not sure yet. Definitely not basketball.”
He was a little sensitive about his height. He’d been asked to join the basketball team every year since he was in kindergarten.
“See you later,” Georgie said with a little wave, trudging down the hall and pulling his roller bag.
The bell rang again, and I started to push my locker door shut. But it wouldn’t click closed. What if there was a real monster in my locker? I’ll admit that sometimes my imagination could run away with me….
Riiiiiiiiiiiiiing!
The ringing bell woke me from my daydream, and I found myself standing in an empty school hallway.
And I realized I was late for homeroom. Again.
Typical.
The hardest subject in middle school wasn’t science or social studies or literature.
It was friendship.
And there was no textbook or helpful study guide. In elementary school, if kids
didn’t like you, they were just flat-out mean. But here, figuring out who your friends were was harder than a quadratic equation.
And I had a failing grade.
Speaking of equations, my first-period class was math. Talk about starting the day on a bad whisker.
Blergh.
We were doing algebra, and I wasn’t a fan. In fact, I hated it. (Then again, does algebra have any fans?)
The math teacher, Ms. Calculate (her name really was Ms. Calculate!!!!!!), moved way too fast. Not that this was a surprise—she was an octopus.
Today, she was reviewing variables and coefficients.
“A coefficient is a number that multiplies a variable,” she told the class.
The only thing that was being multiplied around here was boringness.
I wished I was anywhere but here. Besides, if I was Famous, I wouldn’t have to go to math class.
“Babymouse!”
I blinked my eyes open to see Ms. Calculate pointing at me with all eight legs.
(Talk about crash-landing back to Earth.)
“Babymouse. What is the coefficient in the problem on the board?”
I stared at the problem. Maybe I should start paying attention?
“Uh, the coefficient is xyz over 0?” I suggested.
She shook her head.
“Or abc over 123?” I said, trying again.
Her lips thinned.
I gave up. “One plus two equals three?”
Luckily, the bell rang at that moment, and I was free! But as I stepped through the door, I heard Ms. Calculate’s voice.
“Babymouse, please come see me after school so we can discuss your ability to pay attention.”
Stupid algebra.
I may have hated math, but I loathed lunch.
Yes, loathed.
All those cranky, hungry kids roaming free made the cafeteria seem like a jungle. And just like in the jungle, there were Laws.
Today, the hot lukewarm lunch was teriyaki chicken with baby peas. The teriyaki chicken looked like mush, and the peas were gray.
After I made it through the lunch line, I looked for a place to sit. I spotted an open seat next to Felicia and walked over.
“Is this seat taken?” I asked her.
Her minion Melinda waved her hands. “Totally taken.”
Belinda said, “Taken since ten minutes ago.”
Berry added, “Taken since the fall of Rome.”
But it was pretty obvious to me that no one was sitting there.
“Sorry, Babymouse,” Felicia said. “Maybe some other time.”
As I walked away, I thought I heard them laughing.
I circled the cafeteria, looking for a friendly face. I was about to give up and sit with a smelly boy when I heard someone call my name. (Nothing personal about the smelly boy—he was a skunk.)
“Babymouse!”
I looked across the room and saw my best friend, Wilson, waving at me.
“Over here, Babymouse!” Wilson called.
We’d been BFFs forever. In my opinion, everyone needed a weaselly best friend.
“I saved you a seat,” Wilson told me.
“Thanks,” I said.
Penny and Duckie were sitting there, too.
“Hi, Penny! Do you know what club you’re going to join?”
“I’d like to sign up for Cheer, but it’s pretty competitive,” she said.
As a poodle, she was naturally peppy. I could totally see her as a cheerleader.
“Maybe I’ll try out for Cheer, too,” I said.
She looked at me. “How are your back handsprings?”
“Back handsprings? I thought you just had to wave pom-poms and shout.”
Penny shook her head. “It’s a serious sport, Babymouse.”
That sounded too hard.
“What do you think about Handball Club, Babymouse?” Wilson suggested.
“What do you do?”
“You just hit a ball against the wall,” he said.
That sounded too easy.
“I know!” Duckie said. “You should sign up for Recycling Club.”
“Don’t tell me. You recycle trash?”
“Exactly!” he exclaimed.
That sounded too boring.
Goldilocks had it way easy. All she had to do was find the right bed!
The bell signaling the end of lunch rang, and everyone started to pack up. When I walked out of the cafeteria, there was a crowd huddled around the Activities Sign-Up Board. I pushed my way to the front.
And then I saw it.
Film Club?
I smiled slowly. This was my chance to be Famous.
This was just right.
I wanted to be prepared for Film Club, so I started doing what seemed obvious: watching movies.
My mom said I should watch comedies. My dad said I should watch romances. My little brother, Squeak, said I should watch cartoons. And my grandfather? He said I should watch movies about clowns. (Uh, yeah, Grampamouse could be a bit wacky.)
In the end, I watched…everything.
I discovered that I loved the sweeping period epics. I loved everything about them. The way they took place in exotic countries. How the costumes were so elaborate.
And, of course, the elephants.
I’m not sure why there were always elephants in epics, but I kind of liked it.
That was when I knew: I wanted to make movies like this. Movies that swept you away to a different time and place. Where everything was exciting and—
“This is boring, Babymouse,” Squeak said.
—and there were no annoying Littles.
Squeak was a Little, aka little brother.
I pointed at the television. “What are you talking about? This is an amazing movie!”
He yawned.
“They shot it in Paris and Japan and India! What about those costumes? Did you see all those petticoats? Did you see those elephants?”
“Boring,” he repeated. “I want to watch Squish.”
What did he know anyway? His favorite show was an animated series about an amoeba. Seriously, an amoeba?
“Can I have the remote?” he asked. “You’ve had it for the last two days. And you’re getting kind of smelly.”
“Fine,” I said, and slapped the remote control into his hand. “Enjoy your single-celled organism.”
The first meeting of Film Club was held in a room deep in the basement of the school. I’d always wondered what went on down there. Rumor had it that the basement was where they kept science experiments gone wrong.
Walking down the dark staircase and into the basement was like something out of a horror movie. The mildewy hallway. The lights flicking off and on. The water drip-drip-dripping…
Drip. Drip. Drip.
Wilson, Penny, Georgie, and Duckie were standing there.
“You all joined Film Club?” I asked Wilson.
“It was either this or Clowning Club,” he said with a shrug.
“Clowns scare me,” Penny admitted.
I was pretty sure they scared everybody except my grandfather.
I looked around the room. Movie posters papered the walls. In one corner was a pile of lighting equipment. Next to it was a metal suitcase that said “Audio.” There were coils of orange extension cords and a milk crate full of black tape. A bat and a bear stood off to the side, apparently wanting to join the club, too.
“Hello, future filmmakers!” a voice called.
We all turned to see a teacher enter the room.
“My name is Ms. Octavia, and I’m the Film Club adviser. I used to work in Hollywood, and I’m looking forward to sharing my experience with you.”
“What did you do?” I asked her.
“I was a screenwriter.”
“Wow! That must have been exciting!” I said.
She gave me a look. “I suppose you’ll find out. Because the whole purpose of Film Club is to actually make a film. From conception to screen.”
Then she st
arted to tick off her fingers. “You will write the script. Cast the film. Secure locations. Make props. Design scenery. Sew costumes. Set up lights. Film. Record audio. Edit. When the film is complete, you will screen it for the entire middle school,” she finished.
There was silence as everyone looked around the room.
“It’s important to remember that filmmaking is a collaborative experience. Let’s get started. The first thing you need to do as a group is to figure out what genre of film you would like to produce.”
Wilson’s hand shot up. “Monster movie all the way!”
“Romance!” Penny said. “Something dreamy!”
“What about a detective movie? Classic noir,” Duckie suggested.
Georgie bent his head down. “I have a movie idea.”
“What is it?” I asked him.
“It’s about a boy who is struggling to find his place in the world. He meets a furry monster named Bigfoot, and they bond and become each other’s best friends. They set out on a road trip across the country. Along the way, they discover a hidden realm of troublesome gnomes. The gnomes decide to join them. As they near a desert, a spaceship crashes and aliens emerge. The aliens need help getting home, so the boy and Bigfoot and the troublesome gnomes help to rebuild the aliens’ spaceship. Then the aliens take them all to space. The end.”
Everyone stared up at Georgie in shock. It was always the tall, quiet ones with the roller bags who had the best imaginations.
