Kaimoana Tales
by Kiwi
William
Part 5
"I got it. I got it. I got it! They want me. I'm going to be in the movies. I might be famous. I got it!!"
"Whoah. Settle down, Wills. Calm down and tell us quietly. What did you get?"
"The part! The part in the movie. It's the main part too; I'll be the star! Me - William Scott, movie star. Imagine that!"
"I don't know if I can," his father frowned over his evening paper. "William, we haven't got the faintest idea what you're talking about. What part? What movie? What have you been up to now?"
"Didn't I tell you?" He flopped down on the couch by his mother, looking worried now. "These people are making a movie, a real movie, and I tried out for it and they filmed me and now they want me to go up to Auckland for the final edition."
"You did? They do? To Auckland? William, who are these people, and how did you get involved in something like this?"
"It's Greystone Film Productions. They're a company and they make movies and Mrs. Crase said I should try out for it and I did and they want me. So cool!"
"Mrs. Crase?"
"Yeah. She's my drama-club teacher at school."
"I do know Geraldine Crase. I'm a teacher at your school as well, remember. How did she get you into this?"
"Mrs. Crase's brother works for Greystone. He was visiting her and she told him about me and he filmed me, and I got the part! Can I do it?"
"Well, of course you can. If this is all above-board, it would be a great experience for you. I think I'd better phone Geraldine and find out what this 'final edition' business is about."
Paul went away to his 'office' to contact Mrs. Crase. The office was just a desk in the corner of his bedroom really; but that's what they called it.
When he returned, William was busy telling his mother and sister all about the movie.
"It's about these 3 boys and they break in to this crazy old man's house. He's a hoarder and his house is full of junk and stuff that he's collected. It's really, really full and there's hardly any room to move in there.
They've heard that he's got heaps of old Playboys, Girlie stuff and Gay magazines, right back to the first copies ever published; so that's why they break in - to pinch some of his Playboys. He goes out shopping on Saturday mornings, so that's when they go, 'cos he won't be there.
They stand up on the hill behind the house and throw stones on the roof to make sure that he's not there, 'cos they figure if he is, he'll come out and yell at them. He doesn't, so they decide that he's gone and they climb in through a window in the kitchen. The house is full of stacks of stuff everywhere, with just narrow alleys in between them.
One of the boys chickens out and he leaves and that's the last you see of him. That one won't be me.
They sneak through to the living-room and they find the Playboys, hundreds and hundreds of them, on a sideboard in there.
Hello Dad. Did you get Mrs. Crase? What did she say?"
"Yes, I spoke to her and it's all above-board, apparently. This is the real thing. She said that there was a letter that you were supposed to give us. Where is that?"
"Oh, yeah! I forgot, sorry. I think it's still in my school-bag."
"Okay. But you should have showed us. You're 10 years old, William, you don't make these sort of decisions for yourself, that's our job. Okay?"
"Okay. Sheesh! I said I was sorry! I just forgot. When does the filming start?"
"It's not that simple, Son. You may not have the part yet, they still haven't decided. It's the final audition that they want you to come for. Audition, not edition. You do understand what that means, don't you?"
"Oh. I didn't get the part then?"
"Not yet. You might, you might not; it just depends on what sort of boy they're looking for. I think that you done really well to get this far. They started with over 200 boys and now you're one of the final 12."
"So, it's like NZ Idol then?"
"In a way, yes. But there's no public voting, in this case the judges' decision is final. They'll select 3 boys from the 12, so your chances are, like, 1 in 4."
"Like 3 out of 4 chances that I won't get it. Or 12 to 1, because I want the main part, not the wimps who run away."
"Only 1 of them doesn't run away?" his sister, Emmy said. "Tell us more, Wills, I want to know the rest of the story."
"Yes, so do I," said his mother. "I'm a bit concerned about these boys looking for gay magazines. This is not a pornographic film, is it?"
"No, Mum. It's not like that."
"What's it like then? Tell us the rest of the story."
"It's a love story, but it's a bit different."
"How different? What happens?"
"Well, they find the magazines and they're all like, "Gee wow!", and they're just looking at the cover pictures, and then they hear the upstairs toilet flush and they realise that the old guy hasn't gone out at all - he's still in the house, upstairs.
So they panic and they run and try to get outta there, but the one in the lead knocks all this stuff over. He dives out of the window and he's gone. But there's this great big bird cage, it's made out of steel and stuff and it's huge. It falls down with a huge noise, lotsa banging and crashing, and it jams in the aisle and the boy can't get out. He's stuck.
He tries to move it out of the way but it's jammed and he can't. The old guy hears all the noise and he comes into the room and he catches him. And, can I have a drink now?"
"No, you can not! Finish the story, Wills. You can't leave it there."
"Okay, but I'm really thirsty. What happens? Well, the old guy catches the boy but he's not angry with him or anything, he's really nice to him. He says that he needs his help and he'll give him some of the books if he'll help him move some stuff around.
The boy says that he'll help, and they move all this stuff away from one end of the room, there's huge stacks of paper and boxes and things. They uncover a door and it's the front-door out of the house. They move everything away from it and clear the opening and an aisle right back to the door at the other end of the room.
The old guy won't say why they're doing it and, when he goes out of the room for something, the boy opens the other door and goes in to see what's in there.
He comes running back out again, all scared and panicky. The old guy catches him again, and calms him down, telling him that there's nothing to worry about. He takes him by the hand and leads him back into the other room and there's a dead body in there - a big, fat guy, sitting in an armchair.
Are you sure that I can't have a drink now?"
"Yes, I'm sure! Finish the story."
"All right! Well, the old guy tells him that the stiff was his friend, his partner for over 30 years. He's been sick for a long time and now he's just died, a couple of hours ago. He hasn't told anyone yet because his friend has been putting up with his collecting for all these years and he always said that, when he goes out, he wanted to go out through the front-door, which they hadn't seen in, like, forever.
So now they're clearing the way so that the old guy can grant his friend's wish as a final act of love. The End - it's just a short film. Now can I have a drink?"
"Yes, you can have a drink. Go and get it yourself."
"All right!"
William left the room, running, and Sarah turned to her husband. "I'm not too sure about all of this. Young boys looking for porno mags and old men who are long-time gay lovers. Do we want Wills involved in something like this?"
"I don't see why not. It all seems pretty innocent to me. A good moral tale, it's just a bit different, that's all. This is the 21st century, Sarah, not the 19th."
"Well, okay. We'll see what happens I suppose. You say that he hasn't even got the part yet?"
"No, not yet, but Geraldine says she'll be surprised if he doesn't. The boy's a natural actor, apparently."
"Yes, well we know that! What happens now?"
"Some of the film company will be back next week, to hold the auditions and film the kids. He may need some time off school and one of us will have to be there with him."
"Of course we will. I'll take some time off work. It's easier for me to rearrange my schedule than it would be for you."
"So, you'll support him in this then?"
"Paul! Of course I'll support him. If this is all above-board it will be a wonderful experience for him. And, if it's not, I'll be there to put a stop to any funny business."
"I'm sure there won't, but, yes, one of us should be there."
Sarah retrieved the letter from William's school-bag, they read it together, and then Paul rang the contact number to say that, yes, William would be available when they wanted him.
The confirming email arrived Sunday afternoon. Sarah took William out of school on Wednesday and drove across the city to Altamont Studios, where the auditions were being held.
There were several other boys there, with their parents and guardians, and they had to wait as they were being seen alphabetically. When their turn finally came, she sat quietly in the corner of the room and watched as William sprawled on a big couch and chatted comfortably with a business-like woman and 2 guys. A cameraman hovered around and filmed them.
They had William read out a passage from a book, and then he read through a piece from a script while one of the guys read the other part. Sarah was impressed with her son. He didn't stumble over his words at all, he was completely relaxed and he laughed and smiled easily.
'These people are good at their job,' she thought approvingly.
When they'd finished, the woman thanked them and said that they'd be in touch when the final decision had been made. "We actually had a Maori boy in mind for the role, but that's not set in concrete and I quite like the look of William. He'll have my vote anyway."
They returned home, and then spent several agonizing days while they waited for the casting-director's decision. At first, William was sure that he'd get the part, then not so sure, and then he was certain that he wouldn't.
"They want a Maori boy and I'm not one. They won't want me. I don't want to be in any dumb movie anyway. It's all a waste of time and I should be in school. I'm not doing it, even if they want me to. You'll tell me if you hear something, won't you, Dad?"
"Of course we will, as soon as we hear anything, we'll let you know. I've said it before, but I really do think that you've done well to get this far. It's been an experience for you and I'm proud of you, Son."
"Thanks Dad. It was fun, kind of, but I don't want to do it now. I'm bored of it and they won't want me anyhow. I'll be in my room if you want me."
"Ah, poor kid," Sarah sighed. "He's a bundle of nerves. In a way, it'd be better if he doesn't get it, at least it'd be over with."
"You might be right, but I hope that he does. It'd be great for him. He's a bright boy but he's lacking in confidence, obviously."
"Yes, obviously. I wish they'd just hurry up and let us know, one way or the other. The waiting is the worst part."
"You're not wrong. Let's all go out for dinner and a movie and just forget it for a while."
"You want to go to a movie to forget about William's movie? That's not going to work. We could go to a live show. What's on?"
Sarah checked the paper, and Paul sat back and grinned. "It's all very exciting, though, isn't it? This is a great learning experience for all of us."
"Oh, Paul! You see everything as a learning experience."
"Yes, you might be right. That's probably why I'm a teacher." He sat back and ran his fingers through his hair. "I think it's time that I had a haircut. I'll go on the way home from school tomorrow. Wills can come with me too, it's starting to look like he's got a blond mop on his head."
"No. You can do what you like, but William is not getting his hair cut off."
"Why not? His hair is so fine and wispy, the longer it gets, the more it sticks-out in all directions. He's not a fan of long hair anyway, he's always preferred it to be short."
"He has and I agree with you, but he can't have it cut right now. The film company people asked that he doesn't. They like his hair the way it is and they'd prefer it to be longer."
"Really? Why?"
"For the look of course. This movie is set in the 1970's, back when everyone's sex-education came from printed magazines. They want everyone to have long hair. Everyone had big hair back in those days."
"They did! They don't call the 1970's the 'decade that style forgot' for nothing. They're not going to make him wear an ABBA outfit, are they?"
"I don't think so. I hope not. They're just meant to be boys, not performers on a stage."
"Everybody dressed like they were on a stage back then. We've got photos of your dad with his open-fronted shirts, showing off his hairy chest and his gold medallions. He had those pants too, skin-tight and shiny with huge bell-bottoms. Not a nice sight."
"Definitely not. I can't see Wills in high-heels and flares, he'd fall over his big feet when he tried to walk."
"He probably would, but I don't think they'd be in high-heel boots. What did kids wear on their feet in those days?"
"I don't know. Sandals, maybe? Or jandals. I think that sneakers were around then."
"Not so different to today then. Where are we going for dinner?"
Authors deserve your feedback. It's the only payment they get. If you go to the top of the page you will find the author's name. Click that and you can email the author easily.* Please take a few moments, if you liked the story, to say so.
[For those who use webmail, or whose regular email client opens when they want to use webmail instead: Please right click the author's name. A menu will open in which you can copy the email address (it goes directly to your clipboard without having the courtesy of mentioning that to you) to paste into your webmail system (Hotmail, Gmail, Yahoo etc). Each browser is subtly different, each Webmail system is different, or we'd give fuller instructions here. We trust you to know how to use your own system. Note: If the email address pastes or arrives with %40 in the middle, replace that weird set of characters with an @ sign.]
* Some browsers may require a right click instead
