MUSIC VIDEO SHOOT CHECKLIST:

1. Go over the day’s schedule with the crew (a.k.a. Mom, Dad, and Lauren).

2. Double-, triple-, quadruple-check I have my camera AND that it works!

3. Equipment check: extension cords, tarps, and extra lights

4. Call the park again to make sure the reserved picnic area is absolutely, positively, definitely okay to shoot in. Bring the permit in case anyone asks to see it.

5. Go over Mari’s costume picks with her one more time. Raincoats or no raincoats for the final shot?

6. Pick up food from deli! Don’t forget snacks. Nothing greasy—it will ruin the costumes! (Mari’s note, not mine.)

7. Pray the forecast for Saturday is right: 80% chance of rain.

I’d planned for a week and a half, and now it was finally time to shoot what could be the most important part of my movie—the Needles in a Haystack video—and the weather couldn’t have been more perfect. The meteorologist was right! I could hear the pat-pat-pat of light rain hitting the gutter outside my bedroom window.

Rain was just what I needed to make the day’s shoot a success. Well, that and about nine million other details that had to fall into place. I’d also looked at Mom’s camera equipment to see what I could borrow, like extra tripods. I couldn’t afford to rent them because I’d spent so much money renting a drone camera to use next week at the Locks. Dad had seemed skeptical about that decision. “I hope it’s worth it, Z,” he’d said. “You’ve always used your own camera, and your videos have turned out great.” I didn’t think Dad got it. I needed this movie to look better than my regular videos.

My bedroom was packed with video equipment, tagged props, backdrops, a rolling cart crammed with outfits (and second outfits) for every band member and colorful rain jackets and umbrellas we borrowed from everyone we knew. Mari still wasn’t convinced we should have the girls use them. “Running in the rain without your jacket looks cooler,” she had said. I looked at my watch. We’d figure it out. It was time to go. I grabbed my new director’s clapboard from my dresser. The clapboard, which movie sets use to synchronize sound with the picture, was a gift from Mom and Dad. “Every director needs one!” Dad said. The clapboard looked like those old-fashioned black-and-white ones you saw in movies when someone stood in front of the camera and shouted, “Scene one, take one!” I’d always wanted one.

The next hour was a blur. Mom and I whizzed over to the community park by the house where we were shooting the video while Dad headed to the deli to get the food we’d ordered. The playground looked lonely. Since it was drizzling, no one was hanging out on the swings or climbing through the tubes. It was just us, which was perfect for shooting a video. We quickly set up our equipment and the pop-up tents we had to keep the cameras and Mari’s band dry if it started raining really hard.

I looked up at the sky and let the rain hit my face. I had broken the shoot down in half-hour blocks of time. I knew the day’s exact order of events. This was all really happening!

Two hours later, my confidence had snapped like a guitar string.

Literally. A guitar string broke and stopped the whole shoot.

“The guitarist can’t play at all until her mom gets here with another string,” Mari told me. “She didn’t realize she didn’t have extras with her.”

“Can’t she just pretend to play?” I made a mean air guitar motion. “No one will know, will they?” The actual song arrangement would be layered over the video during editing anyway.

Mari smiled sadly. “This is our first music video, and she doesn’t want to fake it.” The rain started to fall harder as she spoke, and we huddled under my pink striped umbrella. “I’m sorry, Z.”

“The wait could be a while,” Dad said as he pulled his hood tighter around his head. “When I ran out for more tarps, there was a fallen tree in town, and they were redirecting traffic down side streets.”

I glanced at the band hanging out under the large tarp with their equipment. I really wanted to record them playing their instruments in the rain, but it was much harder to shoot in bad weather than I realized. If it was drizzling, they could play for a bit, but if it started to pour, they had to hurry back and hang under the tarp to wait out the rain. Filming was taking much longer than I thought it would and I barely had anything recorded at this point. And now we were down a guitarist.

“Maybe there’s another way around the traffic,” I said hopefully. No one answered me.

I suddenly felt stormy, like the weather. How could things go wrong so quickly? I wasn’t filming anything I needed. We were just standing around waiting for the weather to change or a guitar string to arrive. I couldn’t just stand here and do nothing! Think, Z.

“Guys, we’re going to start filming!” I said. Everyone looked at me like I was crazy. “I want to record you guys dancing in the rain. Without raincoats.”

“But then we’ll get all wet. What about the other shots?” Mari asked from under the nearest tarp. She had been fighting me on the raincoats for this scene all along.

“I wanted to get some footage of you guys dancing in the rain at the end of the video, anyway,” I said. “It’s only drizzling right now. Come on out and dance it off!” I started to dance around to show them what I meant.

The band members looked skeptically at each other, but one by one they came out from under the tent. Lauren put on some music from her phone, and everyone started to dance. It happened so fast, I didn’t have time to think about my shot list, about which camera lens I should use, or whether I should grab a tripod. I just tried to capture the moment. The louder Lauren played the music, the more the band danced.

“That’s it!” I told them. “Forget I’m here.” The drummer hung back, and I could tell she wasn’t thrilled about dancing on camera. “If I can dance like a goofball, you guys can, too!” I said. I handed Mom my camera and busted out my best, most awkward moves, making everyone laugh. I grabbed the camera again and went back to filming. I liked what I was seeing through the viewfinder—a group of friends having a great time in the rain. I filmed a close-up of Mari as she spun around with her eyes closed and then zoomed in on the drummer and the guitarist pretending they were ballroom dancing. I was finally getting something I could use.

I heard a loud rumble of thunder and everyone stopped moving. “No!” I cried as the rain started to come down harder and everyone ran under the tents again. “Not now! We were just getting started!” I yelled at the sky, which responded with another rumble.

We couldn’t film outdoors in a thunderstorm. It was too dangerous. Ugh! Why did I ever think this was a good idea? Why?

“Roll with the punches, Z,” Mom said gently. “That’s what a filmmaker does.”

Thanks, Mom, I thought, but at the moment, it isn’t what I want to hear. The day was failing miserably. “Maybe it will stop soon,” I suggested. A crack of thunder and a large flash of lightning said otherwise.

“We should head for cover till this storm passes,” Dad said. “Let’s get everyone in the cars.”

Everyone raced to the cars to wait out the storm. Dad jumped in his, and the band, Lauren, and I jumped in Mom’s. The band didn’t seem bothered at all about the weather. They chatted and laughed in the backseat, while Mom checked the weather on her phone, and I stewed, reviewing my shot list. Lauren leaned over and gave me a hug.

“Maybe it will stop raining the minute the guitarist’s mom gets back with the new string,” Lauren said. “Actually, wait, we don’t want it to stop raining completely, right? Just no more thunder and lightning?” The sound of more thunder rumbled continuously outside.

“I feel like we’re wasting time,” I said, feeling fidgety. I drew a raindrop in the condensation that was fogging up the window. “I wish we could film something!”

“You got the dancing in the rain part,” Lauren said, being optimistic.

I shrugged. It wasn’t enough. I’d had a whole day of filming planned.

“Too bad we don’t have your laptop with us,” Lauren said. “I really want to see the Kit video before our presentation on Monday.”

I banged my head on the car window. How could I have forgotten our presentation was that Monday? Lauren had been asking to come over for days and I’d been so wrapped up in the CloudSong movie, I pushed her off. “I’m sorry. Want to come over today?” On second thought, I was probably going to try to edit some of my movie footage after we got home. “Or maybe tomorrow?”

I watched Lauren pull her wet blonde hair off her face and into a high ponytail in one quick move. “Don’t we have some sound to finish? I found some great music I thought we could use.”

I bit my lip. “I already did that.” Lauren’s face fell. “But you should bring yours over and we’ll try that, too.” I didn’t want to add that I had rushed through the music so I could go back to work on my CloudSong stuff.

Lauren smiled. “It’s okay. We’ll just use yours if it’s done already. But I still want to come watch it once before we present.” I nodded. “Have you had a chance to read my ‘Homework Hacker’ script yet?” she asked.

Groan! I had totally forgotten about that, too! “I keep meaning to start it …”

Lauren gave me a look. “It’s only three pages long …”

“Sorry!” I said, my cheeks flushing. “But I promise to read it this weekend.” I crossed my heart, and Lauren seemed satisfied.

“Bad news,” Mom said, turning and looking at me and the rest of the car. “The weather radar indicates that heavy rain will be moving through for the next few hours.”

“No!” I cried. “It didn’t say that this morning!”

Mom showed me her weather app as proof. “I know, but that’s what it’s showing now. We’re getting the worst of the storm.” Mom put her hand on my shoulder. “You should probably call the shoot, Z,” she said quietly. “There’s no sense in making everyone hang out in the car.”

“But …” I stalled. I barely shot any of the footage I needed. I wanted my first cut of my movie to be done in a week and a half so I could spend the following three weeks before the deadline fine-tuning the edit. But now that today was a bust, I couldn’t imagine making that deadline. I crumpled my video plan up in a ball. “Fine,” I said dejectedly.

“Z,” Mom started to say, but I turned away.

I knew I shouldn’t take it out on Mom, but I was so mad! I turned to the window and drew a picture of the sun with my finger, right next to the raindrop. “Rain, rain, go away—and come back another day.” My circle grew bigger and bigger, giving me a view of the world outside the car window. The rain was practically coming down sideways. I didn’t think I was getting sunshine or rainbows anytime soon.

Mari tapped me on the shoulder. “Hey,” she said. “I’m sorry about the video. Maybe we can shoot it another day.”

“Thanks,” I mumbled. “With school and everyone’s activities, there’s no way there’ll be time to make it happen now.”

“Maybe not, but I still wanted you to have this.” Mari pulled a flash drive out of her pocket. “This is Needles in a Haystack’s amazingly awesome version of ‘Singin’ in the Rain.’ We recorded it the other day for you to use for your edit.”

I took the flash drive and held it wordlessly.

Mari smiled. “I think we’re even going to start performing it at the Beanery. We like it that much! Even if you can’t use it in your movie, I want you to have the file. Maybe it will cheer you up.”

“Thanks,” I said.

I was sure I’d like listening to Mari’s song, but it wasn’t going to cheer me up. How could it? My first real film shoot had been a bust. I just had to hope it didn’t mean my movie would be, too.