My phone dinged really early, and I opened it to see it was another #summeradventure post from Winter. I immediately hit PLAY. She was wearing a helmet and standing in what looked like a giant forest.

“Hey, gang! Wow, you guys have been getting your adventures on hard already! I have seen some amazing posts from you all. It’s going to be a hard decision when it comes to who gets that special feature on my vlog! You guys inspired me to do even more adventurous stuff, so here I am, hundreds of feet in the air, ready for my first-ever canopy tour! I hope you don’t have a fear of heights!”

I took a deep breath, half afraid for Winter, and half afraid that my posts wouldn’t stack up to the rest.

Winter’s camera wobbled while she strapped it into her helmet and launched off the platform. Winter whooped and I could totally understand why. I felt like I was flying through the tops of the trees! I had to try that! When she landed, the camera wobbled again while she took the camera off.

“That was amazing! You guys, wow! What an adrenaline rush! Keep your videos coming, I’m going back up to do that again! Bye!”

Oh my gosh. How was I going to compete with that kind of adventure? I was going to have to step up my game. I was going to have to be on the lookout for awesome post material today.

I stood with my mouth open, gazing up at high ceilings set with flat screens showing footage of fast-moving cityscapes. This was our next interview location? It was seriously impressive. I shot a few seconds of video from my phone. Maybe I could edit that together with some other shots from the day for my post.

“Ms. Danvers,” I heard Mom say, “this is my daughter, Z. She’s my assistant on the shoot today. Z, this is Calista Danvers, the CEO and founder of Cortex.”

I dragged my eyes from the ceiling. The tall, impressive-looking woman in the pale blue suit in front of us held out her hand and I grabbed it to shake. She had a superfirm grip that seemed about right for an important CEO of a technology company. “Follow me, ladies. We can do the interview in my office as we discussed.”

I’d read up on Cortex in Mom’s binder of information. Cortex sold systems that let you communicate with lots of different devices in your home, from setting or checking your security system remotely to checking on your kids. They were pioneering all kinds of sensors to be built into homes—ones that would tell you if the air filter needed to be changed, or even if the house was shifting on its foundation. It reminded me of a story about a futuristic house we’d read in language arts class. I wondered if I could work that into my post somehow.

Calista’s office was just as awe-inspiring as the lobby. Her desk alone was the size of my room at home. I probably couldn’t fit the whole thing into a shot from my camera. “Z, can you start getting the B camera set up? We don’t have much time,” Mom was saying. The sharp tone in her voice told me this wasn’t the first time she’d asked me. Whoops. I needed to focus.

“On it!” I called, and knelt to unzip the camera bag I carried, setting up the tripod as quickly as I could.

Mom and Calista had walked over to her desk, and Mom was setting up the A camera in front of it, so that must be where Calista would sit to answer Mom’s questions. I saw that Mom was handling everything really smoothly, but it took me a couple of tries to get the camera to sit correctly in the tripod. I felt my frustration build, knowing I’d practiced this setup a bunch of times. I guess being distracted didn’t make me the best assistant.

Mom appeared beside me. “You need to move much faster, Z,” she said in a low voice. “I’ve already got the A camera in place. I was hoping you could fit the lav mic on Calista, to get the practice, but I’ve already done it. We need to get this all set up more quickly.”

Mom snapped the camera into place and checked the settings. “This camera is going to be our backup,” she told me, speaking fast. “On some shoots we’ll use the B camera to get alternate shots, but on this one we’re racing against the clock. I need you to set up the shotgun mic and get in place with that so I can start the interview. Got it?”

“Got it,” I said, my frustration continuing to grow. Everything had gone so smoothly with Kacey and Roxie, but today I was slowing Mom down.

I unpacked the handheld microphone, moving double time, and checked the settings. I stood behind Calista’s impressive desk, just out of the shot, and gave Mom a thumbs-up that I was ready.

“Just a minute and I’ll be ready, too,” she called back.

My phone buzzed in my pocket and I pulled it out. Mari had texted me.

My fingers itched to push PLAY and see what Winter’s newest post was all about, but focusing on the interview was more important. I quickly texted back.

Mari texted back right away.

She’d sent a video, but I knew I couldn’t watch it now, no matter how tempting. Mari sent a few more cute wallaroo pics and selfies though. It looked like she was having so much fun and I wondered if Calista would mind if I took a picture of her for a #summeradventure post. Maybe I should be stealthy and just do a selfie …

“Z, are you ready to record?”

Whoops. Mom had totally seen me with my phone out.

“Ready,” I answered guiltily, putting my hand with the phone in it slowly behind my back and sliding it into my pocket.

“Audio and video are rolling,” Mom announced.

She stepped away from the A camera a little to start the interview.

“Ms. Danvers, can you tell me a bit about the kinds of new technology your company is creating?”

Already this interview felt very different from our first. I remembered that Mom had said that Kacey was a “very relaxed subject.” Calista Danvers seemed really busy, and we didn’t have as much time as we did with Kacey. The whole thing felt like a bigger challenge.

I made myself focus on what Calista was saying. “Here at Cortex, we’re most interested in the area of sensors. Sensors aren’t machines—they don’t make anything. What they do is collect data. Our job, then, is finding a way to make that data meaningful—to people and devices. For example, we are exploring the ways that sensors can help us to build the perfect home. One that …”

My concentration was broken again when my phone buzzed in my pocket. I should have turned it off instead of leaving it on vibrate. I hoped the mic wasn’t sensitive enough to pick up that sound. But the look on Mom’s face said it definitely was.

“Cut!” Mom said. Calista looked over at me, and I set the mic down and pulled my phone out to switch it all the way off.

“I’m so sorry, I thought I had it turned off.” Calista didn’t say anything, but she looked at her watch.

We started rolling again right away. I was so embarrassed, I closed my eyes for a second to refocus. Mom had made a point to tell me that she needed me to focus when I was working with her—and she’d specifically warned me not to get distracted by my phone.

When I opened them, I glanced at the video monitor and saw that the mic had dipped down into the frame.

Calista stopped speaking, and both she and Mom turned to look at me. I felt my face get warm. “Sorry.”

“Do you need me to start again?”

“No, Calista, I’m sorry,” Mom said. “We can add some B-roll over part of your answer to cover the mic. If you could just pick up with your last sentence, about the use of sensors in home foundations to communicate warnings about earthquakes?”

Calista nodded and resumed speaking. I held on to the mic as though I were a Titanic survivor and it was my driftwood.

Mom asked a couple more questions, and before I knew it, she was thanking Calista, and an assistant was shooing us out of the office. I carried the B camera, still on its tripod. “We’ll pack up fully in the lobby,” Mom said in a clipped tone as she guided me out.

“I’m so sorry,” I said as soon as the assistant had left.

Mom continued breaking down the camera I’d carried. “It’s okay, Z—we’ll talk more about this later. For now, could you help me get all the cases closed up?”

“Okay,” I answered, doing as she asked.

I didn’t know exactly how the talk was going to go, but I knew one thing for sure. We were not headed out for ice cream to celebrate.

I leaned against the RV and pulled up the video Mari had sent me while we were in the interview. Mom had stepped away to make a phone call. She hadn’t been very talkative while we were loading the equipment. I knew I had messed up and felt terrible about my mistakes. But Mom had said it was okay, that we could fix it. I just hoped we could.

The video was of a thing that looked like a miniature kangaroo hopping, and Mari had put one of her own songs over it so it looked like it was dancing. I was about to text Mari that it was hilarious, but then saw Mom coming and put my phone away, ready to get back on the road.

“Hold on, Z. We need to talk for a moment.”

“Okay.” I took a deep breath in and turned to face Mom.

She sighed. “First, I want to tell you that I’m sorry. It wasn’t fair for me to expect you to be able to do everything I need an assistant to do. It’s a lot of work, even for someone with experience. I thought … It’s just that I forget your age sometimes, because you’ve done so much with your own filmmaking, and keeping up with your vlog. I know that takes a lot of time and energy. But you are acting as my assistant on this shoot, and I expect certain things. First, you really need to turn your phone off for the shoots. But I know I have to keep in mind that you still need some supervision on set.”

“I’m really sorry I forgot, Mom,” I said. “I’ll definitely remember next time.”

“Well, I appreciate that. Just to make things a little easier, I got us some extra help, too, for the rest of the trip. Nora, one of my students from last semester, is going to meet us at our next stop in San Francisco.”

I felt my face fall. Mom didn’t think I could help her at all anymore? Just because of a couple of tiny mistakes? “But—I can do it!” I protested. “We don’t need more help.”

“You’re still an important part of the crew, Z. Having Nora here will just take some of the pressure off. She’s helped me with shoots before, and she’s very good. Besides, I think you’ll like her.”

I felt a moment of panic. “Does this mean I won’t get to interview Winter?”

Mom put her arm around me. “I think that’s still up in the air. Let’s see how the next few shoots go, okay? Just take today as a lesson, and remember that when we’re shooting, that’s all we’re doing.”

“Okay.” I knew there was nothing more to say. I slid the CREW hat from my head, feeling defeated. “Hey, do you mind if I go into the back and get started on a new vlog post?”

“Sure, honey. I’ll call you when it’s time to stop for a bite to eat.”

I climbed up in to the RV and walked back to the kitchen area. The binder with all my training information was still lying there open, just where I’d left it. I pushed it closed. I definitely didn’t want to do more studying now.

What I needed to do was connect with my friends. First, I caught up on all my friends’ feeds. Lauren had posted photos from Color Wars Day at soccer camp. She looked really happy, dressed in blue from head to toe and grinning from ear to ear.

Becka had played in a tournament with her wheelchair basketball team, and they’d won. She’d posted some triumphant shots of her high-fiving her teammate, and one of the scoreboard.

Gigi was home in London, and it looked like she’d spent the day shopping with her friends. But even her regular shopping trip looked so much cooler to my eyes because: London!

Finally, with Mari’s trip to Woodland Park, it seemed like all of my friends were having exciting and fun starts to their summer. I genuinely did “like” all of their photos, but I also felt the slightest pangs of jealousy. This trip was a lot harder and definitely less exciting and fun than I had thought it would be.

Becka texted me and Gigi just as I was scrolling through everyone’s feeds.

I’d just been sitting here feeling jealous of their summers. And wanting so badly to share with my friends about how everything seemed to be going wrong. But for some reason, hearing Gigi call my summer “glamorous” made me want them to keep seeing it that way.

Well, at least that part was true. I’d definitely learned what not to do—by messing up—in the past two days.

Shoot. I’d told everyone about the interview after Mom told me, and I had felt totally confident that I would actually be doing the interview then.

I wasn’t so sure anymore.

Wishing it to be true, I typed in my response and hit SEND.

Fake it until you make it, right? If I wanted to interview Winter Costello, I had to act like it was going to happen.