My Life as a Youtuber Page 4

  It’s an offer no kid could refuse. We’re still at Doug’s desk but already I can see rows of aliens, costumes, toys, bikes—it’s like someone’s garage, overflowing with a million things to rummage through. My mom LOVES yard sales; if this stuff was for sale, she certainly would’ve come with us instead of running errands.

  Doug asks me if I want some water or juice but I can’t wait to start poring through these shelves. He gives me a giant cart—even bigger than the ones at Home Depot—and tells me that Jerry, one of his interns, will accompany me. Jerry barely looks up from texting but I don’t complain, because I know that even with a chaperone, this is a tremendous opportunity.

  I’m not interested in any of the dishes or glassware but I’m impressed with how they’ve sorted everything by color, size, and shape. Every object is neatly labeled; now I understand why so many people work here.

  I don’t really care about the aisles and aisles of clothes either but the hats are a different story. Rows and rows of bowlers, fedoras, army helmets, aviator hats—I wish I’d known about this place back when I used to run around in costumes all the time. I take a turban off the shelf and ask Jerry if it’s okay to try it on.

  Jerry barely looks up as he nods.

  I can’t find a mirror so I use a nearby medieval helmet to see my reflection. Maybe I can tell fortunes on my YouTube channel!

  “You’re not thinking about dressing up like a fortune-teller, are you?” Jerry asks. “It’s been done a thousand times.”

  I tell him OF COURSE I wasn’t thinking of that and place the turban back on the shelf. Why does this guy have to be so negative?

  Dad and Doug catch up to me in the room with all the nautical props. (After the intern’s comment on my fortune-teller idea, I don’t even THINK about doing a submarine show.)

  “You need some help brainstorming?” Dad asks. “This place can be a little overwhelming.”

  I assure him that I can definitely come up with something on my own.

  Dad points to his wrist where his watch used to be even though he uses his phone to tell time now. “You’ve got another half hour,” he says. “After that, we let these good people get back to work.”

  I’m not sure if this snobbish intern falls into the “good people” category, but I realize Doug is helping us and I don’t want to take advantage of the favor. I tell Dad I’ll meet him at Doug’s office soon.

  As I wheel my empty cart into the next aisle, I can’t help but let out a yell. Jerry looks up from his phone and nods.

  “The taxidermy section always freaks people out,” he says. “Especially the lion. We call him Walter.”

  I reach out to touch the gigantic creature. Of course, I know it’s not alive but the creature is posed like it’s ready to pounce and it takes a few moments for me to adjust.

  “I think Walter might be too big for your school project,” Jerry says. “Although it would make for a funny talk show interviewing a lion sitting on a couch in a TV studio.”

  Number one, it’s more than a “school project.” Number two, please stop coming up with ideas for MY YouTube channel. Number three, I am not going through rooms and rooms of props so I can have a stupid TALK SHOW! I don’t share any of this with Jerry, just focus on all the animals, one more realistic than the next. (I compare the stuffed pheasant to the one I drew jumping out of a helicopter recently. My version was pretty good, if I do say so myself.) I also take a million pictures, which I immediately post to Instagram and Snapchat.

  Believe it or not, something more impressive than the lion makes me grind the cart to a halt. A petite woman is carrying a humongous set of barbells, tossing them around like they weigh as much as a feather duster.

  “Is she a famous bodybuilder or something?” I ask Jerry.

  Jerry looks up from his phone. “Sophia? She can barely open a jar. Those are fake weights.”

  Jerry must be getting bored with babysitting me because he shoves his phone in his pocket and leads me over to the shelf.

  “Everything here is made to look heavy but is really lightweight—the barbells, the medicine balls, the beer kegs, even the rocks. They use these in movies all the time.”

  Before he finishes talking, I’m loading items onto the cart. I can lift a boulder over my head! I throw an anvil into the air—and catch it! If Doug lets me borrow all this stuff, I’m going to have the best show on YouTube; there are so many ways I’ll be able to use these!

  The cart is really full. It takes me a while to maneuver it to the front of the warehouse. Doug nods in approval when he sees my choices.

  “Ahhh, the magic of moviemaking.” He picks up a giant boulder and hoists it over his head. “You should have some fun with these.”

  While Jerry makes a precise list of every item I’m taking, Dad makes his own list—of how I have to be 100 percent responsible for each prop, how each of them would cost a lot of money to replace, how Doug is doing me a favor, blah blah blah. It’s usually the kind of speech I tune out but because I’m so eager to start making content, I listen and agree to everything Dad says.

  On the way home, he continues in suggestion mode by recommending that I storyboard the show before I start shooting. This time, I don’t even pretend to listen because I’m thinking about setting up my camera the second we arrive.

  PRE-PRODUCTION

  It takes a lot of fiddling around but after several tries, I finally figure out the best placement of the camera. Then I dig out a fake mustache from the Halloween box in the garage and slick my hair back to create the look for my new on-screen weight lifter—THE TANK. The joke is that in real life, I’m a skinny kid with barely any muscles, but with these fake weights it’ll look like I’m lifting three hundred pounds. I test out a few different accents but decide to just use a lower version of my regular voice. A gray hooded sweatshirt, gym shorts, and sneakers round out my character’s outfit. As I rehearse in my room, Bodi’s not sure what’s going on and eventually crawls underneath my bed to get away from all the action.

  The beige walls of my room make a boring background so I ask Mom if there are any old bedsheets I can paint to make a backdrop. She rummages through the hall closet and gives me a sheet from when I was little, covered with clouds and turtles. When I tell her I need a plain sheet, she finds a peach one for me to use. Peach isn’t the ideal color for a bodybuilder but when you’re scrounging for props, you can’t be fussy. She helps me hold the sheet up while I tape it to the wall to paint it.

  “You need a drop cloth,” she says, “so you don’t get paint everywhere.”

  It takes a while to get the room ready and even longer to paint the words and background. I don’t care if this is WAY more work than just talking into a webcam—I’m determined to have one of the best videos in class.

  Teachers and parents have always told me how creative and imaginative I am, however those qualities are unfortunately difficult to measure in school. I do well in a few subjects, but since so many of them involve reading, it’s often hard for me to keep up with the rest of the pack. I can look at a globe and easily tell latitude from longitude, yet seeing those words in a textbook is a different thing altogether. This YouTube class is a way for me to shine, so I take my time making sure everything is perfect.

  After spending hours on pre-production (that’s what they call it in the business) I’m ready to shoot. The actual filming takes less than an hour, but when you add it all up, this is much more time than I usually spend on homework. I’m relieved when I play back the video and laugh out loud at how ludicrous I seem. With some minor edits, I can tell by looking at the first pass that I’ve got a winner.

  Even though I’m exhausted, I toss and turn all night, excited to show off my work tomorrow.

  VIEWING PARTY

  At school the next day, all Ms. Miller can talk about is the upcoming eclipse. I guess in ancient times, people used to freak out when the moon suddenly disappeared and thought demons were involved. She makes us write down what time it will occur
so we can see it, but as soon as she says it’s at 3:00 in the morning, I just move my pen across my notebook as if I’m writing it down but don’t. There are plenty of things worth waking up for in the middle of the night, and watching the moon play hide-and-seek isn’t one of them.

  Umberto skids over to me in the hall. “Wait till you see my vlog,” he says. “It came out GREAT.”

  I do a double take—Umberto’s now sporting a GoPro camera on his head like Mr. Ennis. I wave to the camera and make a bunch of stupid faces until he tells me the camera’s not on.

  As we head to class, Umberto skids to another halt when we spot Mr. Ennis. His long blond hair is gone, leaving nothing but a shiny bald head—and his headband with a camera.

  He runs his hand over his scalp. “It was a spur-of-the-moment decision. I’m still getting used to it.”

  Umberto and I try not to stare; when Matt joins us, he bursts out laughing.

  “You look like Lord Voldemort!” Matt says.

  “Then prepare to be vanquished!” Mr. Ennis smiles before he goes inside but the look in his eyes tells me even though he’s joking around, Matt’s comment was an unwelcome one.

  “You realize you just insulted the guy who’s grading us,” I remind him.

  “My video’s primo,” Matt answers. “I could run him over with my skateboard and still get an A.”

  “Highly doubtful,” Umberto says.

  In the room, the class asks another fifty questions about Mr. Ennis’s hair before we finally get down to screening our videos.

  Mr. Ennis had us upload our clips to his Dropbox so he’s got them all cued up to project onto the screen. Carly sneaks in later, apologizing that she had to hand in an assignment for another class. Carly is the school queen of extra credit.

  The first video we watch belongs to Dave. In it, he’s sitting at his kitchen table reviewing a new Netflix show. His comments are actually interesting, but every other word is ummm, which gets kind of annoying. He goes on and on about how terrible the Netflix show is. Is it weird to say that his horrible review makes me want to watch it?

  “Wow,” Mr. Ennis says when the clip is done. “That was one scathing review.”

  “The show stinks,” Dave says.

  Mr. Ennis asks Dave what else he plans to review and if he’s going to concentrate on a specific genre.

  “I just want to find the worst shows and trash them,” Dave says.

  “It’s easy to be critical of others but more challenging to create original content,” Mr. Ennis says. “Why not try to be more creative with your show?” Mr. Ennis points to the soda can and bag of chips in front of Dave in the video. “You trying to get some kind of product-placement deal?”

  “I want to monetize everything I can,” Dave answers.

  Mr. Ennis laughs. “Only a small percentage of the millions of people on YouTube make any money. Believe me, I should know.” He hits play on the next video, which is Matt’s.

  “Strap yourselves in for a wild ride,” Matt says.

  I wait for the video to GET wild, but it’s pretty much Matt sitting at his laptop doing a run-through of an old Crash Bandicoot game.

  Matt turns around to watch the glazed eyes of his audience. “Come on, guys,” he says. “It’s really hard to get to that level!”

  I proudly cheer on-screen Matt as he clears another level in the game, although my fake enthusiasm can’t hide the fact that Matt’s content is the worst thing anyone can say about a YouTube channel—it’s BORING.

  Mr. Ennis is kind with his feedback, giving Matt tips on how to spice things up a bit.

  “But it was good, right?” Matt asks.

  Mr. Ennis rubs his head for the hundredth time. “Sure.”

  Matt slinks down in his chair. I hadn’t anticipated such a tough crowd either.

  The rest of the videos are a lot like the ones we already watch on YouTube. Abby did an instructional video on French-braiding your hair. Barry made a meme generator with animal backgrounds that was hilarious. Candace shows us her advice channel dealing with a new stepmother, but she’s so nervous on-screen, she looks more like someone who NEEDS advice than someone who should give it.

  Umberto blows everyone away with his footage of trying to cross the street in his wheelchair when someone carelessly parked their car in front of the sidewalk ramp.

  Since being friends with Umberto, I’ve often put myself in his place as he maneuvers through the world, but I’m not sure the rest of the population thinks about all the obstacles someone with a physical disability has to go through every day. His video is a keeper for sure; Mr. Ennis even fist-bumps him before moving on.

  I suddenly wonder if Mr. Ennis is taping our videos with the camera on his head as he’s watching them. He wouldn’t make a magic video out of our rough cuts, would he? Or edit them with boos and people throwing garbage at the screen? Between the bald head and the camera, he looks like an overgrown Minion and I decide not to worry about it.

  Next up is Tyler, who’s doing a YouTube Poop channel. His clip is a mash-up of Gravity Falls, old black-and-white vampire movies, and a gazelle getting torn apart by a lion to the sound of SpongeBob’s famous laugh. It’s random and gruesome and weird. Everyone loves it, especially Matt, who’s a huge fan of YTP.

  “Okay, Carly,” Mr. Ennis says next. “Let’s see what you’ve got.”

  Carly gives him a thumbs-up. She’s been very secretive about her YouTube channel, sharing only that she decided to do a vlog.

  Maybe I DO have a chance to be number one now.

  When the clip begins, I’m surprised at how simple the setting is. My banner and props make her no-effort background look dull. Since Carly usually decorates everything from lunch bags to lockers, it’s strange she decided to go so plain.

  “I just got braces,” she says into the camera. “And I HATE them.” She clenches her fists in frustration as she talks on-screen. “I am CONSTANTLY running my tongue over my teeth like there’s some foreign object on them—because there is! I can’t believe I’m going to have this contraption on my teeth for almost two years!” She hurls herself on her bed and throws a tantrum like a little kid.

  This is so stupid, I think. Why are you talking about your braces?

  But when I look over at my classmates, they’re leaning forward in their seats, laughing.

  “That’s how I feel with mine,” Natalie says from the back of the room.

  “Me too.” Tyler gives a huge smile exposing his own metallic mouth.

  Mr. Ennis has to pause the clip. “Okay, guys, let’s wait until the end for comments.”

  Back on-screen, Carly continues. “I hate not being able to eat caramels! They’re my favorite food in the world.”

  She starts fake crying and throws herself on the bed again. She looks as cute and smart as she does every day but I just don’t get it—who’s going to subscribe to THIS?

  When the clip is finished, the applause is greater than what the other videos got—even Umberto’s, which was awesome.

  Mr. Ennis turns to me. “You’re up next, Derek.”

  I don’t understand why I’m so nervous. I’m more scared now than I was in that play with Carly last year. I tell myself I worked hard and people are going to love it.

  I hope.

  WHO’S THE DUMBBELL NOW?

  “Helllooooo, it’s me: the strongest guy in the world. Stronger than John Cena! Stronger than the Rock! I am THE TANK!”

  On-screen, I’m lifting a giant barbell over my head. In the classroom, I’m not paying attention to the video as much as studying the reaction of the class.

  No one’s laughing.

  “You’re probably wondering how I’m lifting something so heavy,” I begin.

  “No, I’m not,” Tyler says.

  Mr. Ennis puts his finger to his lips, motioning for us to be quiet. “Let the video speak for itself,” he says.

  Back on-screen I juggle three oversized bowling balls as I talk. When I turn to Matt, he gives me a thumbs
-up. (He’s always been amazed by my juggling skills.)

  “Welcome to my new workout show: Bodybuilding with THE TANK. The first thing we’re going to do is some stretching.”

  On-screen, I bend down to touch my toes.

  “You should’ve totally added a farting sound there,” Matt says.

  Everyone laughs, even Mr. Ennis. I can’t believe my best friend is critiquing my video!

  I’m about to respond but Mr. Ennis points to the screen, where I’m lifting an anvil over my head. I squint and struggle under the weight, which in reality is only a pound.

  “You can do it,” I tell my viewers. “Grab some weights and work out.”

  The class is quieter than after Mr. Demetri gives bad news on the PA system.

  “Tune in next time for more exercises with THE TANK!”

  Mr. Ennis pauses the clip then puts his hands over his head, as if gathering his thoughts.

  Before he can say anything, I jump in. “It’s an instructional video like you said we could do. But it’s also funny.” I turn to the rest of the class. “Don’t you guys want to know how I lifted such heavy stuff?”

  “They’re props, right?” Carly asks. “Not real barbells.”

  “Yes, but they look like real anvils, bowling balls, and weights, don’t they?”

  Carly seems confused. “But they’re not—or you wouldn’t have been able to lift them over your head.”

  “That’s why it’s funny!” I turn to Matt and Umberto, hoping one of them will take my side.

  “I thought they were real,” Matt says. “It was incredible.”