Sam, Who Are You?

Chapter One; Thrift Store Camera

I've spent the last three years building up my collection of cameras and recording equipment. Every paycheck, every dollar I've gotten for Christmas, birthdays, temporary jobs has been put towards cameras, lights, editing programs, computer upgrades, and development stuff.
Since I was a kid, all I have ever wanted to do was film something worthwhile. Something to change the world.
If not the entire world, at least just mine.
Oh right, and my name is Sam.

It's May 23rd, Friday, 3AM. I've been sitting in front of my desktop computer for several hours now, shifting between editing footage I shot this week, and writing a script on one of hundreds of Word documents I have saved.
Thank God for caffeine. Otherwise, tomorrow I'd be a dead man standing. School is almost out, and that marks the third year of high school. I told myself that this summer, I'd crack down and start on the film I've dreamed of making. Nothing too fancy, just something... Real.
I rub my eyes and close out the script, deciding that I'll work on it later. With a sigh, I shut down the computer and slide my chair across the floor but the leg gets caught on my pile of clean clothes I haven't put away yet, sending me tipping to the ground. I slam down hard on my elbow, my foot twisted somehow in the chair.
     It's too early in the morning for this shit.
I untangle myself from the wreckage and clamber up to my bed, hoping that I didn't make enough noise to wake my mother.

I dream about the clips of video that I played on repeat this evening. Each time, it's slightly different until it's not the same video at all. There's something eerie about my dreams, but I can never quite put my finger on it.
     I wake up to the smell of breakfast, albeit burnt breakfast.
My clock reads 6:30. With a irritated groan, I stumble out of my bed and to the bathroom down the hall. I brush my teeth, splash some water on my face and hurry back to my room to change into a school clothes. There's not a uniform at my school, but I have to seperate my clothing in types.
One type for school, one type for home.
Today, it's a full green long sleeved shirt and black jeans.
"Hurry up and come eat!" My mother calls from down the hall. "We have to leave soon!" Grabbing my backpack and a small video camera, I run/slide to the kitchen.
"Give me your most burnt toast," I grin and duck as mother tosses a towel half-heartedly in my direction. "Oh come on, I was only joking!"
"Just eat, will you?" She chuckles. I grab a handful of cereal and a slice of toast. Usually, she doesn't actually burn the food. There's something comfortable about burnt toast anyway.
"Fix your hair, scruff." She mutters, putting a pan in the sink. "gotta look good for the ladies? Eh?"
This, of course, is a joke. There are no ladies for me to impress.
My mother knows I'm Ace, and she also knows I can take a joke.
"Oh, how I live for their approval!" I lay a hand daintily on my forehead and sigh dramatically. "see ya tonight," I shove the last of my toast into my mouth and sling my backpack on.
"Have fun!" She calls as I walk out the door. I laugh to myself and put on my headphones.

I won't bore you with the details of my day, the ups and downs of my school day, who said what and how and where and all that. In fact, if anything, you'd be better off assuming that some great things happen to me every day and I'm and well liked classmate, student, whatever.
Not so, not so.
Ah well, my favorite part of the day is when I can go home and go through my cameras. I wish I had enough money to set up my own darkroom, but my savings account has been a bit dry lately. I spent it all on a film to digital transfer machine. Quite an expensive investment, my friend. But thankfully, I've had the chance to use it over and over.
My room is a giant mess of shelves and tables piled with tapes, cassettes, film cartridges, camera cases, and various other things that I will need at some point.
I'm halfway through an SD card on one of my digital cameras when I hear a knock on my door.
"Yeah?" I call out.
"Can I... Can I come in?" It's my aunt. With a grin, I nearly fall out of my chair to run to the door.
"Hi! I didn't think you were coming until next week!" I give her a hug. My aunt Winna lives a couple hours away, so I never get to see her much. She moved out of town when she got married.
"No, I decided to come here early," she grins and holds my out at arm's length. "My, my, you've gotten so much taller, Sam!"
I laugh, putting my hands on her shoulders. "My, my," I mimic. "You've gotten so much...."
She raises a warning eyebrow.
"Um, much normal?" I laugh again.
"Wow, you're really bad at noticing things." She snifs and raises her nose in the air. "I got a haircut, and it's got color streaks in it now."
"Ah, so I see now," I reply as she drops her arms from my shoulders and turns her head for my to see.
"Come on, I think you're mother is making S'mores, we don't want to miss out" she slings an arm around my shoulders and we saunter to the kitchen where the backdoor is.
For the rest if the evening, Winna and my mother talk about nostalgia and occasionally I join in with stories of my own. By the time it gets dark, we've eaten all of the marshmallows and chocolate; only graham cracker crumbs are left.
     "It's getting late, we ought to get you all set up," my mother suggests, picking up bits of trash as she heads inside. Winna and I gather up the rest of the empty boxes and she makes sure the fire is well put out.
     "So, how's that documentary coming along?" Winna asks me, shutting the patio door behind us. The last time I saw her, I was only dreaming about making a documentary... I didn't have a proper camera or equipment to film with.
   "It's... It's coming along. Yeah."
    "You haven't started it, have you?" She laughs. My mother grins at me from the living room where she's trying to unfold the couch.
     "Sam is trying to find the perfect subjects now, and no one at his school is willing to participate." She chuckles.
Winna sighs and rubs my shoulder. "chin up buttercup, you'll get there."
     "Well, I haven't asked anyone to be in it anyway," I raise my eyebrows and follow Winna into the living room to help my mother.
     "San, grab the sheets from the closet will you?"
I nod and follow instructions, bringing back a fitted sheet, a quilt, and a pillow. They smell like fresh laundry.
     "Here, I couldn't find the other blankets."
My mother nods and takes them.
"So, you haven't asked anyone huh?" Winna plops down onto one of the chairs.
  I shake my head.
"Don't you have any friends who would want to?"
     "I mean, not really..." I don't tell her that I haven't really made many friends since high school. That I hate lying to people, but I'm also not comfortable with telling people I'm Ace yet. I always get weird questions. Even if it's just me telling them that I'm not dating anyone.
     "Why not? Don't you talk to people?"
Yeah, I do. I have some people I sit with at lunch sometimes. Usually, we don't say anything. It's a silent agreement to keep our table a place for the kids who aren't part of groups, or who's friends take lunch at different times.
     "Sam is fine," my mother says. "He's just not a piece that fits in their puzzle."
And that's that. No one else says anything about it.

I lie awake in my bed; the distant sound of Aunt Winna snoring downstairs amused me at first, but now it's kinda annoying.
A light on my computer blinks... Calling me. I could just edit for a few minutes more... Maybe a half hour?
Slowly, I get up and stumble to my desk. I turn on my computer and plug in a few cords to my cameras. There are a few programs I like to use, but for now I've been just focusing on trimming down filler scenes. Grass blowing in the wind with circles of sunlight, water flowing over rocks in the creek down the hill from my house, the trees rustling at night while a clear sky boasts the stars... That sort of thing.
After several minutes of dragging my mouse to match up numbers, I finally fall asleep.