Chapter 3 : Forty-Five Minutes

Chapter 3: Chapter 3 : Forty-Five Minutes

The lawn went off for about ten seconds. Screams, whistles, somebody in the back yelling is he serious. Ethan waited until the noise dropped by half before he raised the mic again.

"Rules. One hand, palm flat on Captain Pete, start to finish. Your other hand can do whatever you want. Eat, drink, scratch. Switch hands, you’re out. Palm comes off the pelican, even for half a second, you’re out."

He tipped his chin at the Handycam down in the front row.

"This time there’s a camera. Your hand comes off, it’s on tape. No more arguing."

The girl with the curls raised an eyebrow. "What about before?"

"Before was a twenty-five-dollar argument. This is a thousand-dollar game. Clean slate."

Just like that, the argument was over. Baseball Cap opened his mouth, then realized he had nothing left to fight about.

Off to the side, Kevin listened to Ethan lay out the rules one by one, and the relief on his face slowly turned into something else. It was finally sinking in. This guy wasn’t student government. This guy wasn’t anybody he knew.

"Everybody take your hand off." Ethan turned to the crowd. "Help me out. Count it down from three."

Three hundred people beat him to it.

"Three! Two! One!"

Five palms slapped plywood in a ragged thump. The crowd cheered. The big guy with the round face waved his free hand at them like he was accepting an Oscar.

The cheer hadn’t even died before Kevin was at his elbow, voice low. "Dude. Who are you? Where’d that money come from? Are you with student government?"

"Ethan Cole. Freshman. Moved in about three hours ago."

Kevin went pale. "A freshman? Dude, you can’t do this. This is an official university event. There’s cash on the stage and three hundred people out there. You know what this looks like? If Student Affairs hears about—"

"Looks like what?" Ethan cut him off. "Look at the crowd."

Kevin didn’t turn around. He didn’t need to. He could feel three hundred people buzzing against the back of his head. He set his jaw, and his voice dropped. "Even so. You still can’t just—"

Ethan didn’t argue. If anything, he dropped his voice lower, like they were working it out together. "Kevin. Five minutes ago you had five people screaming at each other and a crowd about to walk. Now?" He tipped his head at the lawn. "Name one Welcome Week event that’s pulled this many people."

Kevin opened his mouth. Nothing came out.

"So whose event is this?"

Kevin looked at the stack on the speaker, then back at Ethan. His throat moved. "...Mine?"

"Of course it’s yours. I’m just the guy with the prize money. Anybody asks, you found a sponsor."

Kevin nodded slowly and backed off to the side of the stage. He was standing a little straighter than before.

Ethan turned back and waved at the front row. "Noah. Up here."

Noah climbed the steps with the pizza still in his teeth and the lens still up. This time Josh didn’t even try.

"Stand next to me. Get all five in the shot."

Noah backed up two steps and adjusted. Ethan glanced at the little screen.

"Little higher."

Noah tilted up.

"Too much. ...There."

Noah took the pizza out of his mouth. "You’re very picky for a guy paying twenty bucks."

"I haven’t paid you yet."

"Which makes it worse."

Ethan ignored that and pointed at the screen. "When nothing’s happening, hold this wide. Don’t cut off anybody’s hand. People need to see who’s still in. And stop zooming."

"I zoomed once."

"Three times. I counted."

"Then how do I get a close-up?"

"Walk. That mic only hears about ten feet. Zoom from back here and you’ll get the face and lose every word."

Noah looked at the camera, then at him. "Anything else, Spielberg?"

"Don’t watch the screen. Watch the people. If somebody keeps checking their hand, it’s starting to hurt. If two of them start talking, get close. If somebody looks pissed off, stay on him."

"And if nothing happens?"

"Then I’ll make something happen."

Noah studied him for a second, then the five on stage. "Honestly? I still don’t get it. It’s five people touching a bird. Who watches that?"

"Nobody watches a contest." Ethan was already walking toward the middle of the stage. "They watch people. Come on."

Audiences don’t remember names. They remember labels.

It was the first thing he’d taught every new creator at his MCN, years from now and a lifetime ago. Put five strangers in a video and nobody bothers learning their names. They remember the loudmouth, the couple, the funny big guy. Give each person one line that tells the audience who they are in three seconds, and by the end of the intro, people have already picked who they’re rooting for.

He stopped in front of Baseball Cap first.

"Name?"

"Tyler Knox." He grinned into the lens like he’d been waiting all day for somebody to ask.

"Okay, Tyler. Who drops first?"

Tyler looked down the line. His eyes stopped on the big guy at the end.

"Him."

The big guy turned. "Who, me?"

Tyler gave him a quick once-over. "Yeah."

"Why?"

Tyler smirked. "Come on, man. This doesn’t exactly look like your kind of competition."

The big guy stared at him.

"My kind?"

Tyler spread his free hand. "You know what I mean."

Somebody in the front row let out a low ooooh. Somebody else sucked in a breath. It could mean big guys can’t do this. It could mean something else. Tyler had left himself exactly enough room to say he’d meant the first one, and everybody in the crowd heard that he hadn’t.

The big guy opened his mouth. "Man, you—"

He stopped.

Ethan watched his jaw lock, then slowly let go. He’d seen that face across a hundred negotiating tables. It wasn’t forget it. It was not here, not like this.

"Aight."

Tyler had the next line loaded. He’d been ready for the big guy to come back at him, had the comeback halfway out. Instead the guy just folded, and the line died somewhere in Tyler’s throat.

"Uh." He blinked. "That’s it?"

"Nah, you’re right, you’re right." The big guy even smiled, and his voice changed gears. "You work out, huh?"

Tyler hadn’t seen that turn coming. He hesitated, then answered on reflex. "...Yeah. I do."

"You play ball?"

"Baseball. Six years." It came out smoother this time. His shoulders had come down a little.

"What position?"

"Pitcher." He was starting to enjoy this.

"Damn, for real?" The big guy looked impressed. "Scouts come out to watch you and everything?"

Tyler’s chin came up half an inch. "Had a few watching me senior year."

The big guy nodded slowly. "Yeah, I can tell, man. You’ve got that athlete thing going on."

The girl with the curls rolled her eyes and leaned toward her boyfriend. "He folded fast."

"Real fast."

Behind the camera, Noah dropped his voice. "Thought big guy was about to cook him." A beat. "Man turned the stove off." He’d actually been looking forward to that. Now the air had gone out of it, and the whole thing felt a little flat.

Ethan didn’t answer. The whole crowd thought the big guy had folded. Ethan had heard something else. Every question had been too specific. Does he work out. What sport. What position. Scouts. That wasn’t small talk. That was somebody taking notes.

"Keep rolling," he said, and moved down to the big guy. "And you are?"

"Malcolm Hayes. Everybody calls me Mac."

"Why’d you sign up?"

"Man, I didn’t even sign up for this. I came for the free pizza." Mac wiggled his eyebrows at the lens. "Then this guy rolls up waving a stack. I’m a simple man."

The crowd laughed again. Mac gave them a little thank you, thank you with his free hand.

"Also," he added, "somebody get me a water? This sun’s trying to take me out."

Ethan called over his shoulder. "Kevin! Water for the gentleman. Put it on the sponsor’s tab." Kevin pulled a bottle from the case at his feet and tossed it. Mac caught it one-handed, and the crowd cheered again.

The loudmouth. The funny one. Ethan stuck the two labels on in his head, then put a question mark after the second.

Next up was the couple.

"You two together?"

The guy nodded. "Dylan."

"Sierra."

Ethan looked from one to the other. "If it comes down to you two, who gets the thousand?"

Dylan didn’t even hesitate. "She does."

Sierra turned and looked at him, then rolled her eyes so hard the front row could follow it. The face of a woman who had heard this one before.

"Dylan. Please."

Dylan looked genuinely wounded. "What?!"

Sierra smiled at him. It was a very sweet smile, and it meant nothing good. "Last week you took me to Applebee’s, and when the check came you pulled out your phone and used the calculator. You split it down to my Coke. And now you’re giving me a thousand dollars?"

The crowd howled.

Dylan’s face started going red. In fairness, that dinner had been forty-two dollars before tip, which was real money for a freshman. "I said I’d cover the whole thing!"

Sierra gave him a long, flat look, the kind you give a toddler. "Babe. What you said was, ’I’d get the whole thing if I had enough cash on me.’"

The whole lawn lost it. Noah laughed so hard the shot shook.

"Tell you what," Sierra said. "Take your hand off right now, and I’ll believe you."

"Why would I do it now?!" Dylan’s voice jumped an octave. "I said if it comes down to us!"

He swung toward Ethan. "Bro. Back me up here."

Ethan looked at Sierra. Her eyebrow was up. He looked at Dylan, who was already winding up for round two.

Ethan took one step back. "Yeah, I’m staying out of this."

More laughter. He was already walking away, but he filed that she does somewhere safe. A promise made in front of three hundred people and a camera was a bomb with a timer on it. When it went off just depended on when the stakes went up.

At the far end stood the quiet Asian girl.

From the crowd, all Ethan had registered about her was quiet. Pale T-shirt, jeans, worn Converse. The easiest person on the lawn to overlook.

Up close, he realized she was pretty.

Long black hair tucked behind one ear. A clean, calm profile. When she looked at you, she really looked, the way someone reads a problem set, in no hurry to get to the answer.

It was a library kind of pretty. Quiet, not asking for anything. You had to slow down before you could see it.

Then he noticed what was different.

The other four all had their palms on Captain Pete’s chest, about shoulder height, standing up straight, looking good for the camera. She had hers on the pelican’s belly, down around her waist, arm hanging straight, weight shifted onto one leg. Fifteen minutes in, Tyler was already rolling his shoulder. She hadn’t moved at all.

"Last but not least. Name?"

"Maya Bennett."

"Why so low?"

She glanced at her own hand, then at everyone else’s raised arms. "Blood goes down. Hold it up there and your heart has to keep pushing it uphill." A pause. "Gravity’s free."

Ethan had to look down for a second to keep a straight face. "Fair. Best deal on this stage."

"How long do you think you can last?"

"Longer than some of them."

"Which ones?"

Her eyes drifted to Tyler. "The one talking the most."

Tyler heard that immediately. "You talking about me?"

Maya looked over. "You decided that pretty fast."

A few people in the crowd laughed.

"You’ve been watching everybody?" Ethan asked.

"Not much else to do up here."

"So what have you figured out?"

Maya thought for a second. "The couple’s going to distract each other."

Dylan and Sierra turned at the same time. "Hey."

Maya ignored them. "The big guy’s not as tired as he’s pretending to be."

Mac’s smile twitched, then came right back. Ethan caught it.

"How much does the thousand matter to you?"

Her expression shifted, just slightly. "A lot. I need a laptop. Computer Science. I get whatever’s left after tuition." She looked at the stack on the speaker. "So, preferably yours."

The loudmouth, the funny one, the couple. The fourth label wouldn’t come. He tried a few, and none of them fit. In the end he gave up and kept just one thought.

This one, I want to keep watching.

He was still turning that thought over when he leaned in to check Noah’s framing.

The framing was fine. Five people, five hands, one grinning pelican. The problem was in the top-right corner.

The battery icon was down to its last bar, and the bar was blinking.

Ethan’s stomach dropped. He knew this battery. At his graduation, it had gone from blinking to black in about ten minutes.

Best Buy had been on his list, but between two days on the road, the move-in, the goodbye and the pizza, he’d never imagined he’d be shooting today.

Forty-five minutes on a full charge. The open and the interviews had already eaten thirty-five. That last bar was ten minutes, tops.

There was still twenty-five minutes of tape, and none of it mattered. When the battery died, the camera was a brick.

Before he could work out what to do about it, the back of the crowd started to shift.

The wall of people split. A man in his fifties in a tan uniform pushed through, radio clipped to his shoulder, keys on his belt, mustache trimmed neat as a hedge. His badge said SCU CAMPUS POLICE. His name tag said D. HENDRICKS.

He stopped at the foot of the stage and looked at the pelican first, then at the stack of cash on the speaker.

"Who’s in charge here?"

Kevin’s finger pointed at Ethan before the rest of him had time to think about it.

Hendricks looked up at him. "Son, you’re running a cash game on university property without a permit. That’s gambling. Wrap it up."

The crowd booed. Come on! Let ’em finish! Hendricks didn’t even turn around. He heard that kind of booing fifty times a year.

On stage, all five of them looked at Ethan. Not one hand came off the pelican.

That was the third problem, and the worst one. Ethan went down the line. Tyler was rolling his shoulder, but still grinning. Dylan and Sierra were holding hands with their free ones, fight over, back in love. Mac had his second water bottle in his free hand. Maya hadn’t moved since the countdown.

Nobody was dropping in the next twenty minutes. Maybe not in the next hour.

He ran the numbers in his head. The thousand was already on the speaker in front of three hundred people. There was no taking it back. If he stopped now, he’d have thirty-five minutes of footage with no ending. If he didn’t stop, the officer would stop it for him. And even if the officer walked away, the battery wasn’t going to last until somebody won.

A thousand dollars for a video with no ending.

In the corner of the screen, the last bar blinked again.

"Son." Hendricks hooked his thumbs in his belt. "I’m not going to ask twice."