Chapter 24: Touchstone.
Ryan climbed out of Pat Kingsley's car, pulled his baseball cap low, and quickly scanned the street. When he saw nothing unusual, he waved to his agent and ducked into the schoolyard at a fast jog.
He couldn't hide at home forever. Any longer absence and he really would have to repeat the grade. Luckily, the media frenzy around him had started to cool. Hollywood always had fresh stars and scandals ready to steal the spotlight.
"Hey, Ryan! Long time no see. Why do you keep taking such long breaks?"
The moment Ryan dropped into his seat, Jerry and Peter leaned over from the desks in front and beside him.
"You know how it is—I'm always busy." Ryan gave the usual answer, keeping his face hidden in the shadow of the cap.
"Yeah, you really are busy." Jerry tilted his head. "Ryan, can you take the hat off?"
"The hat? Why?" Ryan didn't think much of it. He pulled it off and set it on the desk.
"Peter!" Jerry called. Peter whipped a folded newspaper out of his bag, glanced at the front-page photo, and nodded firmly. "It's him. No doubt."
Ryan's mouth twitched. In his mind, kids their age never read newspapers, and he had grown a lot since filming The Sixth Sense. He thought he looked different enough. He never expected these two to actually check the Los Angeles Times.
"Wow, it's really you! Ryan, you're the kid from The Sixth Sense! So you wrote Harry Potter too? You knew that was my favorite book and you never said a word!"
Jerry's shout turned every head in the classroom. He snatched the newspaper from Peter and waved it. "You guys don't read the papers? Don't watch entertainment news? Haven't seen The Sixth Sense? Don't you know who the boy in the movie is? Or who wrote Ryan's Story Collection and Harry Potter and the Philosopher's Stone? It's Ryan!"
The classroom exploded into chaos. Every kid crowded around, fighting to see the month-old newspaper. Even with the creases, the photo was clear—it was definitely Ryan.
One lively girl grabbed the paper, climbed onto a chair, and read the whole article aloud in her clear voice. Most of the ten-year-olds understood enough of it. Only then did they truly believe that the author of all their favorite stories was sitting right there in class with them.
Ryan sat frozen while dozens of eyes stared at him. He felt his face go pale and imagined dark circles forming under his eyes. The pen in his hand suddenly felt like a heavy bamboo stalk. He had known the secret would come out eventually, but he never expected to become the center of attention on his very first day back.
"Ryan, why didn't you ever tell us?" the girl demanded.
We're not even that close, are we? Ryan rolled his eyes. Honestly, outside of Jerry and Peter's little group, he barely knew anyone else's name.
"I knew it! When Dad and I saw The Sixth Sense, I kept thinking the kid looked familiar. Now I remember—that's exactly how Ryan looked when he first transferred last year!" another boy exclaimed.
"Oh my God, you wrote the screenplay too! My mom loves that movie—she's seen it four times. She says the story is amazing and she cries every single time. She also said the box office is about to hit a hundred million!"
Another girl jumped in. "Ryan, when is the third Harry Potter coming out?"
Ryan could only smile helplessly. These were just curious kids, not paparazzi. Before he could answer, someone else asked, "Ryan, how many big stars have you met? Can you get me Tom Cruise's autograph?"
"And Ryan, how do you even come up with these stories?"
"Ryan, are you really an orphan?"
"Ryan, is making movies fun? Can you take us to a set sometime?"
Maybe I should transfer schools, Ryan thought. But the idea died the moment he remembered how busy Nicole was these days. He raised his voice. "Stop! Everyone, stop!"
The noisy classroom finally quieted, though the kids showed no sign of leaving. They were at the age when curiosity burned hottest. Jerry blinked, then suddenly blurted, "I get it now! That's why Ryan's always writing and drawing—he's writing stories!"
"Correct, Jerry. No prize though." Ryan waved them back. "Yes, Harry Potter and the other books are mine. I haven't met many big stars—the only one I worked with is Al Pacino. I don't know Tom Cruise well enough to ask for autographs."
He flashed a mischievous grin. "As for making movies… it's not fun at all. The directors have terrible tempers. If you make one mistake they yell at you nonstop. Even if you cry, they won't stop. No one feels sorry for you because you didn't do your job. Night shoots often last until morning—if you don't finish your scenes you don't get to sleep. When the director says laugh, you laugh. When he says cry, you cry on command. When he says go crazy, you have to turn into a lunatic right away. So yeah, making movies is awful."
The wild story left the kids speechless. In their minds, filming movies was supposed to be the coolest thing ever. They had never imagined anything so terrifying.
"Okay, class is about to start. Save the rest of the questions for lunch, all right?" Between Ryan's scary description and gentle coaxing, the crowd finally drifted back to their seats.
He wasn't too worried. Kids this age had short attention spans. Give it a few days and they would move on to something new.
"Ryan, you were joking, right?" Jerry leaned over again, whispering. "I won't tell anyone."
"Of course I was joking!"
"And Ryan… is the third Harry Potter finished? Can we read it first?" Peter's head popped over too.
"Nope." Ryan wasn't about to admit anything.
The bell finally rang. Ryan let out a long breath. Dealing with kids his own age was somehow more exhausting than dodging paparazzi. But the day wasn't over yet.
During English class, Mrs. Sara kept glancing his way with curious, searching eyes. Even while he worked on his own, Ryan could feel her watching.
"Ryan, could you do me a tiny favor?" she asked quietly just before the bell.
"Sure, of course." Ryan put down his pen and flexed his wrist, suddenly remembering she was his teacher. "Sorry, I—"
"No need to apologize," Mrs. Sara smiled. "A boy who can write stories like yours probably doesn't need much from me. My daughter is crazy about the Harry Potter books. After she finished the second one she's been begging for the third. Any idea when it's coming out?"
…
Burbank sat north of Los Angeles, one of the city's many satellite towns. What made it famous was media. NBC, Disney, Warner Bros., and countless other entertainment giants had headquarters or major offices here. People even called it the "Media Capital of the World."
At the Walt Disney headquarters, Carter Eisner left his uncle's office and headed back to the Touchstone Pictures floor. His eyebrows stayed knitted the whole way, turning his already plain face into something close to a sour pickle.
No wonder he looked worried. Touchstone Pictures was seven years old. Even with Disney's massive backing, they had produced almost nothing with real impact in either film or television. They couldn't compete with the major studios, and now Miramax—fresh off The Sixth Sense—was breathing down their necks.
Carter had become vice president in charge of film at the start of the year. He had worked hard to turn things around, but the results were still weak. Doubts inside the company never stopped. After all, he was barely thirty and Michael Eisner's nephew.
"Carter, director Chris Columbus is waiting in your office," the secretary reminded him as he passed her desk.
"Chris? Right, we have a meeting today."
Carter frowned. "How long has he been here?"
"Over half an hour."
"Damn, I'd better hurry. Hope he's bringing good news." Carter pushed open his office door.
Chris Columbus, dressed in a gray suit, sat on the sofa sipping coffee and reading a book so intently he didn't even notice Carter enter.
"Sorry to keep you waiting, Chris!" Carter greeted him first.
"Not long at all. I just finished one story." Chris closed the book.
"All right, Chris." Carter gave an apologetic smile. "What brings you in today? Looking to make another film?"
"Exactly, Carter." Columbus nodded. "I'm looking for a partner. I was wondering if Touchstone might be interested…"
He made a you-know-what-I-mean gesture.
"Got the script with you?"
Columbus's track record was short but every film had made money. Carter hoped today might finally bring a breakthrough.
"No script yet." Chris gave another apologetic wave. "But I have the story."
He handed over the closed book.
"Ryan's Story Collection?"