Bill is working in the editing studio, a big old converted house on a quiet tree-lined street. The entrance has been turned into a lobby with brightly painted walls and framed posters of TV shows and movies.
We tell the receptionist we’re there to see Bill, and she buzzes him. A couple of minutes later Bill comes down the stairs.
“What a surprise,” he says. “Three of my favorite people.”
“We’re sorry to bug you, Bill,” I say. “If you’re too busy we can come back.”
“Not a problem,” says Bill. “We were just about to take a break. Come on up.”
We follow him up the stairs. I glance in the open doorways as we follow him down the hallway. In the darkened rooms, editors are working in front of large monitors. I catch glimpses of clips from various commercials and cartoons on the giant screens.
“This place is cool,” Satri whispers.
At the end of the hallway Bill takes us into a big room with a table and chairs, two large TV screens mounted to the wall, and a long desk with several monitors and random technical equipment on it. A young black woman with pale-blue hair is sitting at the desk. She spins around in her chair and smiles at us.
“Guys, this is Bree,” says Bill. “Best editor in town. I doubt I have to introduce these guys, Bree.”
Bree laughs. “Nope. I’ve been staring at them all morning.” She gestures to the screen behind her, and I realize there’s a clip of Dane and Penny loaded into the editing program.
“We’ve been working on your scene all morning,” says Bill. “Bree, why don’t you take a break for a few. Stretch your legs.”
She gets up from her chair and heads for the door. “Sounds like a good idea. I’ll bring you back a coffee.”
“Have a seat,” says Bill. We slide into chairs around the table, and Bill takes Bree’s chair. “So how’s it going, guys?” he asks. He sounds exhausted, but I’m happy to hear the Chill Bill cheerfulness back in his voice.
“We’re good, Bill,” says Anais. “How are you though?”
He leans back. “I’m good,” he says. “Thanks for asking. I was pretty upset at the party the other day. Not very chill of me.”
“You were kind of an Ill Bill,’ ” says Satri.
Bill smiles. “You can all relax. I’m still Bill. I just kind of lost it when I found out about the show.”
“Do you think that’s it?” I ask. “Is the show really done?”
“It looks that way,” he says. He smiles sadly. “But at least we can be proud that we had a good run.”
I glance at Satri and Anais. Anais stares at me, then at Bill, then back at me. I get the message.
“That’s kind of why we wanted to talk to you, Bill,” I say.
“Okay,” he says. “Go on.”
“Well, it’s kind of like…” I realize I don’t know how to explain our idea.
“Have you seen WowKids?” Satri blurts out.
“Of course,” says Bill. “It’s everywhere. It’s all anyone is talking about lately. I love it.”
“You watch it?” asks Anais, as surprised as I am.
“Yeah,” Bill says. “Don’t forget I make TV shows for young people. I have to pay attention to what’s popular. WowKids is hilarious.”
“It’s so hilarious,” says Satri. “It’s, like, my favorite show of all time.”
“Your favorite of all time?” asks Bill.
“Yeah,” says Satri. “Totally. You know how it is, Bill. Nobody watches TV anymore.”
I poke Satri in the ribs. “You’re not making him feel any better,” I whisper.
“No, it’s okay,” says Bill. “It’s just the reality these days. Everything is online. It’s hard to compete.”
The three of us exchange a look.
“That’s what we’re here to talk to you about, Bill,” says Anais.
Bill doesn’t say anything, but folds his hands behind his head. He’s obviously curious.
“Shoot,” he says.
“So it’s just like you were saying,” says Anais. “TV is too expensive these days, and kids aren’t watching it anyway, right?”
“Not as much as they used to, that’s for sure,” he says. “Go on.”
“Well, think of WowKids,” I say. “They do a new video every week, and they do it all themselves! They just put it online and they get all those views.”
“They had almost ninety thousand views last month alone!” says Satri.
“Unbelievable,” says Bill. He shakes his head.
“So I guess what we’re wondering is,” I say, “why don’t we do that ourselves? We don’t need to be on TV. We just make the show and put it online instead. YouTube is free!”
Bill smiles, but it’s not a “freaking out with excitement at our incredible idea” kind of smile.
“I see what you guys are saying,” he says, “but it doesn’t solve our big problem. A show like WowKids doesn’t cost any money to produce. It’s just some kids in a basement coming up with funny ideas and then filming it all on their phones. Pop Quiz isn’t nearly that simple. We need to rent equipment and space, and feed the cast and crew, and most important, we have to pay all the people who work on the show. Including you guys, don’t forget.”
Anais looks deflated. “Yeah,” she says. “I guess that’s right. It was kind of a stupid idea.”
“Not at all,” says Bill in his kind, Chill Bill voice. “I love that you’re so keen to keep the show going. I was beginning to think I was the only one who still cared.”
“Come on, Bill,” says Satri. “How can you say that? We all love the show.”
“I know,” he says. “I’ve just been feeling sorry for myself the last couple of days. If you guys want my advice, you should take advantage of this new reality. Spend some time being kids while you still can. I know Pop Quiz was fun, but sometimes it’s nice to spend your summer without a schedule.”
“My parents want me to get a job at an ice-cream parlour,” I say.
“Oh, sweet,” says Satri. “Can you hook me up with free sundaes for life?”
“I don’t think I’m going to be doing it for life, Satri,” I say.
He shrugs. “Well, now that your acting career is in the trash, you’ll have to figure out something to do for a living.”