My Life as a Youtuber Read online

  Matt is torn between doing pranks or comedy skits. For once, Carly can’t decide what to do, going back and forth between an unboxing show or a news channel. Usually she’s the first one with a game plan but given the limitless possibilities she’s surprisingly stuck. But who am I to talk—I am too.

  I shove my phone into my pocket and bury my face in Bodi’s fur. Instantly, my muscles relax.

  I don’t know what I’d do without Bodi and Frank.

  Hey … wait a minute! BODI AND FRANK. Most of the popular videos on YouTube feature ANIMALS.

  I’m going to make Bodi and Frank YouTube stars!

  A NEW DIRECTION

  Kittens, puppies, hamsters, an angry badger … they’ve all had millions of views. I’ve got a dog and a MONKEY—not to mention the thousands of other animals that go in and out of my mom’s veterinary practice every year.

  I’m sitting on a gold mine!

  Matt goes nutty when he comes over that weekend.

  “Your mom’s a vet!” he says. “You can showcase a different animal every day. Does your mom have any sick hyenas? ’Cuz that would be AWESOME.”

  My mom, of course, would never in a billion years let me put any of her animal patients in my videos. I hate the thought of sneaking around her but we’re talking about a future career here! Matt and I spend the next hour dunking chips into artichoke dip and brainstorming what kinds of videos I can shoot with Bodi and Frank.

  I’ve had Bodi since I was a toddler and he was a pup. He certainly is cute for a mutt. Frank, however, is a semi-trained capuchin who’s very photogenic. Bodi is gentle and friendly; Frank is a downright ham. Monkeys are a little more unpredictable than dogs, but they’re also a lot funnier and uncommon too.

  “How about if I record my voice and drop the audio in behind footage of Frank sitting at the table?” I ask. “It’ll be like Frank is reading the news.”

  Matt shakes his head. “You have a MONKEY! Why do you want to put him at a table reading? He should be skateboarding or jumping off the roof!”

  Matt and I have had the Frank-skateboarding discussion a million times. My mom would ground me for the rest of my life if she knew how many times Matt and I wanted to skateboard with my capuchin.

  “Skateboarding’s a no-go,” I say. “But how about if we SHAVE him? A bald monkey would be hilarious.”

  “I thought the point was that your mom DIDN’T find out,” Matt says. “It would be fun to dye him with food coloring too but you’d still have the same problem.”

  Mom and I have talked about how people sometimes “paint” their pets with polka dots or stripes using paint that’s not toxic, but Mom’s not a fan of using an animal as an easel. Pet shaving and painting are definitely out.

  “How about if he smashes stuff?” I suggest. “He can wear safety goggles and a lab coat and break things with a hammer? Then we play the video back in slow motion?”

  “I’d DEFINITELY watch that,” Matt answers. “Especially if he’s smashing something messy.”

  “Like food?” I grab several handfuls of grapes from the bowl on the counter.

  It takes Matt and me less than a minute to turn the fruit into a pile of green and red pulp.

  “And that’s just with our fists,” Matt says. “Imagine what we could do with a mallet.”

  I scoop up the squashed grapes from the counter and throw them into the sink. “Wait—who’s smashing things in the video? Me or Frank?”

  Matt stops cleaning up and thinks. “Don’t get me wrong—I’d love to watch you smash things. But you’d probably get more views with Frank, right?”

  As much as I’d like to be the one on camera getting all the attention and having all the fun, a video with Frank would definitely get more views.

  Looks like it’s showtime for my capuchin.

  BATHROOM BREAK

  My dad’s been traveling a lot for work so it’s fun to have him home this week. He’s a storyboard artist in the movie industry and he’s been on location in Toronto for a film about a superhero acrobat. As he takes the lasagna out of the oven, he tells us stories about the shoot.

  “There was a lot of tomfoolery on the set. The director had her hands full.” Dad puts the lasagna on the counter to cool. Judging by the amount of steam coming out of it, we’ll be eating dinner at midnight.

  While we wait, we Skype Grammy in Boston. Mom likes to talk to her once a week and I do too. But Grammy’s hearing is starting to go, so the conversation ends up with the three of us in California screaming into a laptop to someone three thousand miles away. Grammy shares her plans for a luxury vacation she’s taking with two of her friends. I’m happy for her but in a while find myself staring at the lasagna and wondering if I’m going to have time to film Frank.

  After we eat, I race to clean up the table then take Frank out of his crate. I’m hoping that Skyping Grammy doesn’t make Mom realize that we still haven’t scheduled that call with the woman from Frank’s foundation. I clip Frank into his harness and take him upstairs.

  I gave a lot of thought to the smashing idea but eventually decided against it. Number one, I don’t feel like cleaning up the mess every time I make a new video for my channel. Number two, it’ll be pretty hard to hide the fact that I’m using Frank in my videos with all that smashing. In the end, I chose a much simpler idea: MONKEY IN A BATHTUB.

  Sure, lots of other youtubers jump into bathtubs of Silly String, jelly, paint, slime, shaving cream—anything messy—but on my channel, a MONKEY’s going to do it!

  I prop my cell on the counter and crank up the music so my parents can’t hear what I’m up to. But given my mom’s an alien from another planet with extraordinary antennae for trouble, she’s immediately at the door.

  “Are you taking a bath?” she asks. “Without being asked?”

  I tell her I’m sweaty from PE and making myself sick with the smell.

  “That’s a first,” she says. “I hope you’re not thinking about taking Frank in the tub with you.”

  Is there anything mothers DON’T know? I tell her I’m not taking a bath with Frank, which is technically true because I don’t plan on being in the tub with him. I wait for her to leave then undo Frank’s harness and continue with my plan.

  While I empty every bottle of Mom’s bath stuff into the water, Frank burrows into the dirty laundry in the hamper. I let him play for a bit while I finish setting up my phone.

  When I’m ready, I scoop up Frank and suspend him over the tub.

  “This is going to be fun,” I say. “You LOVE to swim.”

  It’s true that Frank usually loves the water but maybe because this is full of bubbles and smells like a forest, he’s not sold on the idea. He gnashes his teeth the way he does when he’s threatened or afraid.

  You don’t need a mom who’s a veterinarian to figure out submerging a capuchin into a bubble bath probably isn’t the smartest of plans, but having stupid ideas has never stopped me before.

  “Come on, Frank—the water’s fine!” I check the camera to make sure it’s filming.

  “You better not be up to any monkey business in there,” my mother calls from the hall. “No pun intended.”

  I roll my eyes and let Frank scramble up my arm and onto my shoulder. If I’m going to make Frank a YouTube star, I’m going to have to film when my parents aren’t home. I pull the plug on the tub and the water starts to drain. Luckily for me, tomorrow is Thursday Night, Date Night.

  I’ll just have to convince the babysitter that I ALWAYS film my monkey doing crazy stuff on Thursday nights.

  SOMETHING NEW

  Even Matt thinks my new plan is impractical—and that’s saying something.

  “There’s no way that can work—especially if Brianna’s at your house,” he says.

  Matt doesn’t need to remind me of the time we told my babysitter we baked her a cake, when what we really did was pack several sponges into a pan and spread them with frosting to make it LOOK like a cake. Brianna was NOT happy when she took a bit
e of our chocolate surprise. (My parents weren’t too happy when they found out either.)

  “You can film Frank at my house while your parents are out,” Matt suggests. “Tell them you’re sleeping over.”

  I shake my head. “Number one, it’s a school night and they won’t let me. Number two, Frank wasn’t too happy about taking a dip.”

  Matt holds out his phone and shows me the footage he shot last night for his new LP show. It looks polished, with his face in the corner of the screen, commenting on Steve’s movements in his Minecraft video.

  “It’s not original, but I had fun,” he says. “I’m still looking at other ideas too.”

  As Matt debates various options, I watch Carly approach us from the other end of the hall. Something’s different about her, but I can’t tell what it is. Then it hits me; Carly ALWAYS smiles—at pretty much everyone. Now her lips are pursed and her eyes are looking downward, which can only mean one thing.

  She got her braces.

  Before I can tell Matt not to joke around, Carly comes over.

  “Don’t say a word,” she says. “My teeth really hurt and I’m not in the mood for wisecracks.”

  Matt smirks and starts to open his mouth until he sees the look on Carly’s face, which is so intimidating he immediately shuts it.

  She turns to me and slowly opens her mouth, exposing more metal and rubber bands than I’ve seen in one place, outside of the vintage Erector set Grammy gave me several years ago. I COULD make a joke; however, Carly looks so awful, I don’t have the heart.

  “I’m sorry it hurts so much,” I say. “The pain should go away soon, right?”

  Carly shrugs. “One of my teeth is impacted, so it might be uncomfortable for a while.”

  “I wonder how those braces will photograph on your new YouTube channel?” Matt asks.

  Carly looks like she’s about to shove Matt into his locker. Instead she takes the high road and just leaves.

  “That was mean,” I tell him. “Why make her feel worse than she already does?”

  “She’s always so perfect,” Matt answers. “It’s about time she has something we can make fun of.”

  When we get to math, Carly’s seat is still empty. She finally comes in just as the bell rings and I can tell she’s been crying again. I shoot Matt a look to make sure he doesn’t make fun of her anymore.

  Even if Carly WEREN’T one of our best friends, it’s not cool to hit someone when they’re down.

  SKETCHING WITH DAD

  It’s a good thing I hadn’t planned on shooting my video while my parents were on their weekly date because one of Mom’s longtime patients—a dog named Kitty—just got hit by a car and Mom is operating to save his life. Dad understands and they postpone their date a week to celebrate an early Valentine’s Day. Now Dad’s making us breakfast for dinner and helping me with my homework.

  “Remember when you’d only eat pancakes when they had Mickey Mouse ears?” he asks.

  “Yeah, when I was two,” I answer.

  “You have a selective memory,” he laughs. “I hate to tell you, but you demanded mousey-cakes until you were in third grade.”

  “I did not!” I can’t help but laugh when he slides two mousey-cakes onto my plate. I’d never admit it in a thousand years, but pancakes DO taste better this way.

  When my math worksheet is done, Dad asks about the YouTube class. I tell him I’m still not sure what I’m going to do for my channel. I DON’T tell him I was having a problem on set with my actor.

  “Your mother and I were convinced you were trying to film Frank last night,” he says. “You realize that wouldn’t be a good idea, right? He’s not a performer for your amusement.”

  I try and tell him I would NEVER do that, but Dad’s not buying it. I finally give up and tell him I’m stuck.

  “Some of those YouTube channels are spontaneous and unscripted,” he says. “But some are very planned out. You might want to think about storyboarding your show first.”

  I smile because Dad thinks storyboarding is the answer to EVERYTHING. Over the years he’s tried to get me to storyboard my homework, presentations, even Mom’s surprise party. I don’t mind drawing all my vocabulary words, but now I’m supposed to illustrate my YouTube show as well?

  “Just something to consider,” he says. “You’re a lot like me and I always think better with a pencil in my hand.” As if to demonstrate, he grabs his sketchbook off the counter and starts drawing.

  I love watching my dad sketch; he’s lightning-fast, and even with a rough draft, you can always tell who or what he’s drawing.

  He holds up a drawing of me with a mouthful of pancakes.

  “I’ll give it a try,” I say. At this point I’ll take all the help I can get.

  I spend the next hour sketching alongside my dad, which is my definition of a pretty great night. We talk about the movie set he’s been on and his friend Doug who runs a prop company and just celebrated his fiftieth birthday. It’s great to talk about Dad’s life for a change instead of dissecting mine all the time.

  When Mom comes in later, we both can tell by the look on her face that the surgery didn’t end well.

  Dad gets up from the table and gives her a hug. “You tried your best,” he says.

  She nods in agreement but I can tell she’s mourning the loss of her patient. Dad pours them two cups of tea from the kettle while Mom sits beside me to look through my drawings.

  She points to one of the pictures. “You didn’t tell me Carly got braces!”

  Until my mom said that, I hadn’t even realized I’d been drawing pictures of Carly.

  BRING IN THE PROPS

  Dad’s storyboarding technique actually helped a lot. After all these years, you’d think I’d realize the best way for me not only to learn something, but to THINK about it, is with a pencil in hand. Illustrating thoughts for my new YouTube channel thrust me into a whole new level of ideas. (I won’t use the pheasant jumping out of a helicopter—even if it did make me laugh out loud while I was drawing it.)

  I’ve been spending 99 percent of my time thinking about Mr. Ennis’s class, but I still have my other classes to worry about. (Not that I ever really WORRY about any of them.) I finish my assignment for science, then blast through my math problems as fast as I can. After an hour, I’m finally ready to tackle my YouTube work.

  We’re almost three weeks into the curriculum and I still haven’t established what I’m doing for my channel. I decide to do some research, which basically means watching videos.

  I check out challenge videos, instructional videos, prank videos, DIY videos, educational videos, and lots of wannabe rappers. Nine o’clock. Ten o’clock. Eleven. Twelve. Mom checks on me and I pretend to be asleep, but as soon as she closes the door, I dive back under the covers with my phone to watch another clip.

  The next day at breakfast I’m so exhausted, I can barely keep my head off the table. (Mom’s made her mixture of nuts, oats, and dates that she thinks Dad and I like but we just tolerate.)

  The good news is, I know what I’m going to do for my show. IF Dad will help me.

  “Remember when you told me about your friend who runs the prop company?” I ask.

  “Of course I remember—it was last night.”

  I don’t tell him that I watched so many videos between then and now that it seems like a century has passed. “Do you think he’d let me borrow a few props to use on my YouTube channel?”

  Dad takes a sip of coffee and thinks for a moment. “They’re shooting a big Western now so you couldn’t have those. But I’m sure Doug could lend you some props that weren’t being used.”

  If I had more energy, I’d jump out of my seat. After my talk with Dad last night, I realized that as much as I’d like to use Frank in my videos, I’d be in for a heap of trouble if I did. If I have to star in my own show, having killer props will definitely set me apart from the crowd.

  “BUT,” Dad continues, “movie props are costly—you’d have to treat them
with the utmost care. I’m seeing Doug tomorrow—you want to come?”

  I thank Dad profusely then shove my books into my pack and grab a lift to school.

  Hopefully some movie magic will rub off one of those props and onto me.

  SO MUCH STUFF

  On Saturday, Dad takes me with him to meet Doug who has all the props. He and my dad have been friends since college, where they were both members of the same fraternity. Doug’s been married three times and is going through another divorce, so Dad warned me not to ask Doug any personal questions—as if I was going to. All I want is to get my hands on some cool movie props.

  When we get there, Doug’s examining a shipment of the most lifelike skulls I’ve ever seen.

  “That’s because they’re REAL.” Doug takes one of the skulls from the top of the box and hands it to me.

  “Just because we’re in the movie business doesn’t mean we don’t use the genuine article when we can get it,” Doug continues.

  I’ve dissected frogs in Ms. Miller’s class before but this is the first time I’ve held someone else’s head. I hadn’t planned on today being so hands-on—literally!

  “Don’t get any ideas for your video.” Dad points to the label on the box. “Those are from a museum.”

  I carefully hand the skull back to Doug.

  “From what your dad told me, you’re not really sure what you’re looking for. Why don’t you stroll through the aisles and see if anything inspires you?”