They used to have lunch together. “What’s your favourite movie?” He’d ask her all sorts of questions, wishing to learn from her wisdom. He had never met someone so intelligent in his life.

“Charlie Chaplin’s Modern Times, 1936.”

“Woah, in the silent film era?”

“Yup.” She took a bite from her bag of potato chips. “I’ve watched it a million times with my Mom.”

“Oh, you watch movies with your Mom?”

“Yeah.”

“That’s cool.” Has he ever done anything that intimate with his mother before? “Why do you like it?”

“He was a classic in film history! He’s- I mean- ah!” She yelped in excitement and giggled a little. “-I don’t even know how to like- put it into words, he’s literally the most important figure in the history of film, right beside Alfred Hitchcock and like Quentin Tarantino! Like, you should know him, definitely, if you see literally any silent film it’s him! Like, his character ‘The Tramp’ is literally world-famous! You know? The funny-looking guy with the wide moustache and the hat and the cane? He’s like the Mr Bean before Mr Bean. I wish I can make films that are even half as funny as his, even if it’s like one percent I’ll die happy! Anyway, sorry, uh- what did you say?”

“Wow… you really love film history!” Is there any candidate more perfect for his new club?

“Yeah…Eee! By the way, where did you get that camera, the one you were using on the beach? It’s like…” She put both her hands out, “Industry standard. It’s amazing.”

“My Uncle gave it to me.”

“Cool, what’s your favourite movie?”

“I just watched Battleship recently, it’s pretty good.”

“Ew! You’re joking right? That film is pure trash. The director should be ashamed of himself.” She scoffed and rolled her eyes. “If you do wanna make a film club, please tell me you’re not gonna make cliche action films.”

“No…?”

“If you are, I’m not joining. That’s all I’m gonna say.”

He chuckled. “Ok, then I won’t, promise.”

“Also, if you want, we can watch movies together, since you didn’t get to do that with your Mom.”

“What? What are you talking about?”

“Don’t compare my Mom to yours dude.”

“Wh- how did you know?”

“Your eyes looked away then you zoned out for a second.”

“Woah, you- woah, how’d you- wow. Ok, cool! Do it again!”

“What?”

“How did you even do that? You’re so smart! Do it again!”

“It’s not mind-reading. And I can’t do it all the time. Also I’m not your monkey.”

“Oh, ok, sorry.”

“But… fine. See that couple behind me? One table over.” Sam craned his head to identify them. They had their eyes laser-focused on each other, and their hands interlocked. If only he had that for himself.

“Uh huh?”

“They’re gonna break-up.”

“What? No way, they look so cute together! I wish I had a-”

The girl stood up and walked away with hands over her face. The guy crossed his arms and tapped his foot, before leaving to chase after her. Sam was taken aback. “Well played. But how do you do all this?”

She shrugged, and finished the final chip in the bag. “Gotta get back to class, IT makes me wanna kill myself.”

**

He bursts the door open the next day, and scans the room for Sonia. She stood on the stage, writing something on the board, and Sam charged towards her. No one else had come yet except for her, which he took as a sign of luck finally being on his side.

Caught off-guard, Sonia finds herself pinned to the wall. She propelled her leg into his kneecap, and he fell back. Capping the marker she held in hand, she looked down on him in contempt. “What? Is this you taking revenge?”

“You bet it’s revenge, how dare you tell Ms Eva to not pick me for leader!” He roared. Why is no one here? Sonia’s eyes were blood red, and he could see her chest rising and falling through her jacket. She unzipped it, and tossed it to the side, crossing her arms.

“So? You’re gonna beat me to feed your ego?”

“You beat me first!”

“I wonder how hung up you are on that.” She had the audacity to chuckle. No holding back now, he thought, despite wishing to retreat. Now or never.

“I deserve to be the leader! Not you! You don’t know how to run this club, you didn’t make it, I did! I came up with the idea, I pitched it to all the teachers who would listen, and I signed the form! My name is on that form, I deserve to be the leader, and you, you took that away from me. I know you always hated me okay, I know you always thought of how much better things would be if you were in charge, and you had your fun with your stupid fake-looking island set, deluding yourself into thinking you can make the green screen even a tad bit believable, and that you can run a ten-person crew, but it’s clear, you can’t lead! You can’t do anything! You’re useless, and you’re driving my club into the dirt!”

“As if you can do any better than me! You with your whole it’s-my-club attitude, no wonder no one joined until I took over. Yeah, I brought ten people in this rotting classroom and we’re actually making a film in the next classroom. What the hell have you accomplished? ‘Singing Doll’? You think that film would be decent if I didn’t lie and say it was a comedy, or better yet if I didn’t constantly cover and call out your mistakes do you think you could even finish it? For god’s sake, half the footage you send me are-” She clapped at the end of every syllable. “Out-of-focus!”

“You don’t get to insult me, not like last time. You’re not gonna make me cry again. And you’re gonna shut up and listen. You literally disappear every session for an hour, to go where? You have no friends, Honey is still on set, and you have no life, you literally just leave to do what, I don’t even know! Half the crew has nothing to do simply because they work in post or in pre-production, and everyone hates you! Everyone talks behind your back in the unofficial group chat, no one wants you as the leader!”

“What? You all have a group chat dedicated to talking smack about me?” She scoffed.

“I wasn’t the one who made it.” He expected a come-back, but instead she stayed silent. “You don’t deserve all this. And you definitely don’t deserve to finish your stupid film!”

“It’s not stupid, it’s way better than whatever the hell ‘Blood Orange’ was supposed to be about, because I actually gave a crap when I wrote the script!”

“And you giving a crap means the story is good? Because you’re such an amazing novelist like your mother? In fact, you’d probably end up with a better script if you didn’t give a crap. Every page of it is pure garbage.”

“Oh, so then you’re saying that Charlie Chaplin is garbage, huh?”

“Who’s that?”

“You don’t know who- and you think you deserve to be- Oh my god… please tell me you’re making this up, please tell me you aren’t this dumb! You want to run a film club despite giving zero craps about filmmaking as an art form? You just see it as a tool to get money, as you do everything else, you’re literally so money-faced it’s actually funny.”

Sonia shakes her head and returns to her task beforehand. She puts her jacket back on, glances at a text on her phone, and picks the marker back up.

Sam drew a blank. What he had was anger, not words. But what he needed to do didn’t require words. He snuck out to the next classroom and began trashing the drapes of green-coloured sheets that idiot called a set. The bedsheets were all his, spray-painted with his own hands, now used to serve a bitter and pessimistic girl. He pulled the sheet off the rack, and crumpled it as much as he could before throwing it to the side.

Sonia screamed. “No!” She shoved him away, but Sam got back up, targeting the props next. “No, don’t you dare! It’s my film! This is my work!”

“You… don’t deserve-” He kicked some of the fake sand away, “-any of it! You deserve nothing! And even if you did, why work so hard to prevent a failure? Or, or did you actually think this garbage could be a good film?”

“Stop it! I’ll break your ribs!”

“Good, can’t wait to see how you’ll explain that to Ms Eva!”

“As if you can explain laying hands on me to her any better!” She slapped him in the cheek.

“You did what?” A third voice asked. The two turned around to see Honey paralysed by the door, exactly where she was positioned last time. Tears started rolling. “You did what?”

Sam capitalised, and shoved Sonia away.

“Leave her alone!” Honey dropped her bag and struck him with something sharp. He saw a cut across his arm. Honey placed a hand out, standing between the cross-fire. She trembled harder than he saw anyone tremble before in his life. Choking on her breath, she could barely speak a word. Sonia got back up, and Sam only now paid serious attention to her red eyes. Has she been crying prior to his entrance? The two girls backed up until they felt the wall.

“S..s…s…st-go- go- g-g-g-g-go… away!” She took a shaky breath, retrieving her voice slightly. “F-first y-you touch me… then you… touch her? P-pervert.”

“She pinned me to the wall first!”

“W-where did he- t-touch you?”

Sonia remained speechless. He had never seen her so defeated before, always picturing her as a dominating figure in his life. It haunted him. He looked to his feet, seeing a dirty footprint besmirching a green sheet, he looked around to see fake sand littered everywhere, giving the janitors hell to clean up, and he looked back at them. Both of them seem to be trembling in sync, waterfalls pouring out of their eyes. He had never seen Sonia cry, and he regretted ever wondering what that would look like. The sight of her crying was not a sight he could forget, not for a lifetime.

He told himself after the fight between his Dad and his Uncle to never listen to them ever again, he swore to himself in Joe's life he would root out all the poison they instilled in him, and two days later here he stood, traumatising the two of his dearest friends. He should’ve listened to his gut earlier and retreated.

“I only touched her shoulder!” He defended, then left with a flurry of emotions. What did he just do?