It takes another hour to wrap the scene, including three camera changes. A camera change is when the director of photography, also known as the DOP, rearranges a shot. Usually a scene starts with a wide shot of a whole room, then it switches to some medium shots, usually of two or three characters. The final shots of a scene are the close-ups, which are just what they sound like. Later on, after the shooting is finished, the editors take all the footage and cut it together to make a scene.
It might not sound that complicated, but every time the DOP changes a shot, the entire crew kicks into action. The electrics move and tweak all the lights, the art department hurries around, shifting furniture and arranging props, and the director and the actors talk about the performance.
There are way more jobs on a TV set than you might think, which means lots of people hustling in and out of the room, trying not to get in each other’s way. Without all of these unseen people, a TV show would never get made.
The final shot of the morning is a close-up of me, reacting to Prashant’s joke about love’s lesson with an embarrassed eye roll. It’s just a couple of seconds on-screen, but it involves Pauline running in again to do touch-ups on me, including patting my face with foundation, which is supposed to keep me from sweating. It also means that the lights are pointed right at me (super hot and making me sweat), and the camera is just a few feet away.
As the makeup artist pats my face with a little powder puff, and an electric crouches in front of me with a bounce sheet (a big piece of white cardboard that reflects light onto my face) my fake classmates chatter and joke. I can tell they are getting bored, but even though most of them won’t even be in the background of the final shot, everyone has to stay until we’re done. Otherwise the background noise won’t sound authentic.
Finally, we’re ready to shoot.
“Places, everyone! Picture’s up!” The second Dexi calls this out, the room goes silent. We are professionals, after all.
Miraculously, we make it through the final shot really quickly. I glance over my shoulder to deliver the dirty look, then turn back and roll my eyes, embarrassed. The first one is fine, but Bill always asks for a second shot, just in case. A “safety,” he calls it. I go through the motions again, and then we wrap the scene and everyone gets the go-ahead to escape for lunch.
“I’m starving,” says Satri as we head toward the cafeteria.
“No kidding,” I say. “You’re always starving.”
We follow the rest of the cast and crew. It seems like every hallway and stairwell is jammed with camera equipment, lights, sandbags and all the other stuff that goes along with a film set. The cafeteria, on the other hand, looks the same as any other cafeteria. Long white tables and stacking chairs, soda machines humming in the corner. The big difference is the food. Set catering is way better than school-cafeteria food. Instead of sloppy joes and fish sticks, we get three choices every day. Today it’s lasagna, poached salmon or chickpea curry.
“Ooh,” says Satri. “Lasagna. My favorite.”
I choose the lasagna too, and we stop at the salad bar to pile our plates with Caesar salad. Then I follow Satri across the cafeteria to a long table in the back corner, where we sit every day.
As I twist my way between chairs and around tables, it occurs to me for the millionth time that being on a film set is actually a lot like being in a high school. This is most obvious in the cafeteria. Over the years, the cast and crew have broken naturally into various lunch groups, and every day people sit at the same tables, sticking to their cliques.
The older teens who play the high school kids are all hanging out together at a table by the window. Another table nearby is full of the grown-up cast members playing teachers and parents and coaches. The crew also breaks apart into different categories. The camera guys, the electrics and the grips sit together. The production design team, who build, paint and decorate sets, share space with the costume and makeup people. Chill Bill sits at a smaller table with the assistant directors and the writers.
Satri and I get to our table, where the younger cast hangs out. As always, there’s a lively discussion in progress.
“What’s going on?” asks Satri.
Belva Helmondsson, who plays Dara on the show, turns to us and grins. I really like Belva. She’s super funny, with lots of freckles and a pile of curly red hair.
“The wrap party,” she says. “Do you think Bill is going to give out diplomas again this year?”
“He always gives out diplomas,” says Satri. “It’s fake graduation day.”
Every year after we finish production for the season, there’s a big wrap party in the gym. There’s pizza and music and Chill Bill gives out certificates of achievement and diplomas. The certificates are always funny, and everyone gets one. Last year, I got a certificate for “Best Sleeper” because one day I was found napping in a stairwell between scenes.
The diplomas are different. They’re serious, nicely framed, and only the kids graduating from the show get them. They’re a final gift from Pop Quiz before those kids leave the cast to head into the real world.
It’s always a big moment when Bill calls the “grads” onstage to get their diplomas. People cry and hug each other, just like at a real graduation.
I glance across the cafeteria at the “big teens” table, the graduates. I wonder what they’ll do, now that they won’t be on the show anymore. I also wonder who will be filling the empty spaces they will leave.
Every one of us at the “young kids” table wants to be chosen for a bigger role next year, but not everyone will get the chance. There are only a few spots, and anyone who watches Pop Quiz knows that some characters gradually disappear as they grow up. It’s something Chill Bill and the rest of the team have prepared us for since the day we started. “There are no guarantees, guys,” Bill tells us regularly, “so enjoy it while you have the chance.”
It’s hard not to think about getting a bigger part though.
Anais joins us, taking a seat next to Jorge and Janaya at the other end of the table. They have also played supporting roles on the show for a couple of years.
“Maybe Aiden and Anais will share a certificate,” says Belva. “ ‘Cutest Lovebirds.’ ”
“Yeah right,” I say, praying that I don’t blush. I risk sneaking a peek at Anais, hoping she isn’t pretending to barf or something. She just smiles at Belva and rolls her eyes.
The conversation moves on to everyone’s summer plans once shooting wraps in a week. I smile and nod along with the the rest of them, but I’m a bit distracted. It makes me kind of sad to think that in a week we’ll all go back to our real lives and, before we know it, real school. I like spending my days on set.
These people really are like my classmates. We don’t just eat lunch together—we hang out in a school all day, sit in classrooms and have inside jokes, and some of the cast have become really good friends, like Satri.
After lunch Satri and I clear our trays and stop to grab cans of pop from the cooler before heading outside to enjoy the last few minutes of lunch break in the sun.
“Just the guys I was hoping to talk to.” I look up. Chill Bill has appeared next to us.
“Hey, Bill,” Satri and I say in unison.
“We’re in the home stretch,” Bill says. “One more week of shooting, and we’ll be able to call it a year. Listen, I’m hoping the two of you can stick around after shooting ends today. Come see me at my office, if you’ve got the time.”
“Sure, Bill,” says Satri. “We’ll make time for you, big guy.”
Bill laughs. “That’s what I like to hear. See you guys on set.”
He walks away, and Satri and I look at each other.
“Are you thinking what I’m thinking?” I ask.
“I’m not sure,” says Satri. “Do you need to fart too?”