After school the next day, Lauren and I rode our scooters down the block from school to the Beanery, Mari’s parents’ coffee shop, to watch Mari’s band play. I sang “Singin’ in the Rain” the whole ride over. Mom had showed me the famous movie clip and I had to admit, it was the perfect song-and-dance scene. No wonder film students still studied it.

“Could you stop begging Mother Nature to make it rain?” Lauren joked as we pulled up to the bike rack and locked our scooters to it. “It’s finally nice out and you want it to rain some more!”

“Hey, rain!” I shouted to the sun above. “I’m ready to sing in the rain! And dance around lampposts! Bring it on!” Lauren looked at me like I’d lost my mind. I cheered and spun around like I was Gene Kelly.

“I think you’re dehydrated,” she said as we headed inside the shop and heard the espresso machine whirring. Mari’s mom was helping kids in line order bubble teas. People seated all around the shop at long wooden tables were talking to friends or working on their laptops. I spotted Mari’s band setting up in the back corner, and Lauren and I went right over.

“Hey!” Mari said as she adjusted her mic stand. She was wearing a funky black shirt dress with a purple cinched belt. “I saved you two seats up front.”

“You hold our spots while I order our drinks,” Lauren told me. “Your usual?”

I put my fingers to my lips and pretended to think for a moment. “I’m feeling adventurous today. How about a strawberry and mango bubble tea with strawberry hearts instead?” I handed Lauren money from my pocket to pay.

“Perfect choice! I think I’ll do the same. Be right back,” she said, and headed up to the counter.

“Adventurous, huh?” Mari asked as her bandmates tuned up. “Is that why I saw Popcorn wearing your GoPro camera this morning on her walk before school?”

I groaned with embarrassment. “Yeah, I watched the winning film from CloudSong’s Young Filmmakers’ Contest last year and was trying out something new. The filmmaker strapped his camera to a STOP sign and filmed people walking by, so I thought it might be cool to get a dog’s view of town.” I made a face. “Turns out that view is all grass and tree stumps.” Mari laughed. “But that’s okay because I have an even better idea for this doc. It involves you.”

Mari’s eyes widened. “Me?”

“Actually, your whole band,” I said. “I was thinking about how Seattle’s so rainy, and how it might be cool to include ‘Singin’ in the Rain’—what do you think of Needles in a Haystack doing a new version of that song?”

“Oh, I love that movie!” Mari said, and sang the song’s chorus.

“The song is perfect,” I said shyly. “But you know what would make it sound even better? If Needles in a Haystack put their own spin on it.” Mari looked at me. “And then I could film it as a music video for my movie.”

“What?” Mari screeched, and her bandmates all stopped what they were doing to look at us. “Are you serious?” I nodded. “Guys,” Mari called to her friends. “Z wants to put us in her movie!” She quickly told them about the contest. They all huddled together talking while I stood anxiously outside their circle watching. Mari turned around and looked at me. “Okay, we’re in! We’d love to be your rock stars!”

“Awesomesauce!” I cheered. I would have done a cartwheel if there was room, but there wasn’t. Instead, I jumped up onstage and hugged every member of the band. “I’ll let you guys get on with your show. Do you mind if I film you guys while you play today, though?” I asked Mari.

“Mind? We’d love it.” Mari grinned. “Shoot away!”

I got out my camera, which I had put in my bag this morning, and started recording. I zoomed in on Lauren returning with our milky tea drinks. Tiny jelly strawberry hearts nestled at the bottom of the cups. I paused to take a sip of mine through the wide green straw and slurped up two strawberry hearts along with the sweet drink. Ahh … like liquid candy! I pressed RECORD as the band announced they were ready to go.

Needles in a Haystack called themselves a rock band, but I secretly thought they sounded pop, like some of my favorite songs on the radio. Either way, I loved their beat and their covers of popular songs. Lauren and I couldn’t help but bop along. Lauren usually doesn’t let me film her, but she even let me get a shot of her playing air drums. The whole Beanery was getting into the show!

Before their last song, Mari came up to the mic. “This is a new song, ‘You Do You,’ and it goes out to our favorite director, Z, who everyone is going to know soon!” Mari pointed to me in the audience. “This one is for you!”

Then Mari started to sing the song. The band totally killed it. I could practically see the music video I was going to make right in front of my eyes …

“Thank you, Beanery!” I heard Mari shout.

Mari jumped off the stage and plopped down next to me, beaming. “What did you think?”

“I think we are going to make the best music video,” I said, and the two of us squealed. This movie was going to be unstoppable!

Now I just had to plan the music video shoot, and I knew just the place to do that: my favorite working spot, the film archive center at my mom’s university. When Dad dropped me off there after school on Wednesday, I rushed into the building and soaked in the scent of film. The film archive center just feels so magical. The shelves are filled with dusty, old film canisters and books on moviemaking, and there is a projector always whirring away in the background that screens a constant loop of silent film scenes on one wall. I found Mom bent over her laptop typing with a stack of books open in front of her.

“Hi, Mom,” I whispered as I sat down across from her. The center was like a library so everyone was quiet in there. I always felt very professional sitting by my mom working on movie stuff.

“Hey, sweetie.” Mom looked up with tired eyes as I pulled my laptop out of its case. She’d probably been poring over these books for hours. “What are you working on today?”

I told Lauren I was going to watch the Kit movie again to see if it needed any editing tweaks, but I was anxious to work on my CloudSong project. “I’m going to try to storyboard the music video I’m doing with Mari.”

“Great idea,” Mom said.

“But first, I’m going to see if anyone commented on my Z Crew video post about CloudSong!”

“I could use a study break, too,” Mom said as she scooted her chair over to my side of the table. Now that my family and friends knew about CloudSong, I wanted to see what the Z Crew thought, too. I loaded the video and saw it already had several hundred likes. There were also a bunch of comments.

ABBYKICKS74: Z!!! This. Is. Incredible. CONGRATS!

PERFECTLYPETRA872: Love your videos, Z! Bet you win the whole thing!

AGMOVIELOVER12: Good luck, Z! You won’t need it, though. You got this!

Mom patted my back. “Look how happy everyone is for you,” she said.

“I know.” They were so supportive; it made me smile. I scrolled further down and my smile faded.

WHODOYOUVLOG89: No one can beat Z! She is the master of AGSM!

NOTURAVGVLOGR: True, but this isn’t AGSM. It’s a real movie. Z will have to make her film even better than usual.

NotURavgVlogR was right. I was making a short film, not a stop-motion video. I’d never done a documentary before. I had to make every shot in this film flawless if I wanted to win. It couldn’t just be good. It had to be great.

“Z, you’re not letting one comment mess with your head, are you?” Mom asked, seemingly reading my thoughts.

“No,” I said quickly, and Mom raised an eyebrow at me. “Okay, maybe. But they’re right.” I pointed to the comment. “I always want people to think I know what I’m doing, but right now I feel like I really don’t. If I want to have a shot at winning first place, I have to stand out. I can’t have the judges think, ‘This is pretty good for a kid.’ I want them to say: ‘Wow, we just found the next big thing.’ My movie needs to be perfect.”

Mom pushed her chair away from our table. “Come with me. I want to show you something.” We crossed the archive, my rain boots squishing loudly as I walked on the carpet. Mom stopped for a moment to grab a film canister and then led me past the projection area, to the information desk where a student was standing behind the counter.

“Anything open, Gabe?” Mom asked. “I want to show my daughter something.”

He smiled at my mom and me. “Sure, Professor Yang. The screening room is free. It’s all yours.”

I loved when the students called my mom Professor Yang. She was like a rock star here! I followed Mom down the hall and into a room. I exhaled slowly in awe. We were standing in a tiny, private movie theater! With a flick of a switch, the dusty velvet curtains parted to each side of a large screen. I sat down in one of the overstuffed seats, and Mom quickly set up the film and lowered the lights.

At first, I wasn’t sure what I was watching. It was just a series of short clips. Some of the clips were amazing, and some were pretty dull or jumpy like they were made by someone who didn’t know how to use a camera. I looked over at Mom. She was watching the screen with interest.

“What is this?” I asked.

Mom smiled. “This is a clip reel from some of the first films famous filmmakers made—Nora Ephron, Steven Spielberg, J. J. Abrams, and Mira Nair—they’re all in here. As you can see, they’re not Oscar-worthy.” A grainy shot of a crowd blurred in and out of focus. “But you know what’s great about all of these scenes? Every one of these filmmakers gave it their best shot, and they learned something in the process. Every time you step behind the camera you learn something new.”

I thought of my Popcorn cam. It hadn’t worked, but it was fun to try.

“Remember I asked you the other night about your vision for your movie?” Mom asked. “That’s your most crucial piece to the puzzle. You can’t worry about what comments your Z Crew posts or what your friends think you should film. What do you want your movie to say?”

I thought about it for a moment. “I want it to be like me, but bigger and better. I’ve started shooting, but I’m not sure any of the shots go together. Like I have walks around the neighborhood on my favorite street with Popcorn, and I shot Needles in a Haystack playing at the Beanery, but I don’t have any of the big scenes I want to do yet, like the music video or any landmarks,” I told Mom. “I still want to rent a drone camera to record all the boats moving through the channels at the waterfront.”

“Wow, you’ve got a lot you want to do! You’re taking chances,” Mom said. I gave her a worried look—not sure if that was a good thing. “That’s what directors do. Trying new things allows the filmmaking magic to happen.” She put her arm around me and pulled me in tight.

Making filmmaking magic. I knew how to do that. I put my head on her shoulder. “Thanks, Professor Yang,” I whispered.

“It’s Mom to you,” Mom teased. “And you’re welcome.”

We sat with our arms around each other and watched the movie until the projector went dark.