DIGITAL NINJAS

Twenty minutes later, Tonya followed Priya into the Hub Pub and immediately down a flight of stairs to the basement.

“I found these guys online before I even came to university,” said Priya. “Zain does this web comic called Monster of the Week.”

She was about to open the door when Tonya stopped her. “I’m happy to keep you company but promise you’ll do the talking?”

“Relax, you’re gonna love Duck.”

Tonya had never seen Priya so animated. “Oh, I get it. You need a wing-girl. I’m only here because you want to date him!”

“Why date? I just wanna hook up with his NEX-VG30H.”

“His what?”

She licked her lips and spoke breathily. “I like to take my SLR lenses and screw them onto his powerful cam.”

Tonya laughed. “You’re nuts.”

“No, just not camera shy. But Drake and me, it’s just a fling.”

“You mean you and him actually . . .”

“Of course not! I want his cameras, but you,” she jabbed a finger at Tonya’s chest, “are just his type. Plus, tonight I want to convince him to film my installation. Ready?”

She flung open the door.

Tonya followed Priya into a cramped meeting room. It wasn’t hard to figure out who Drake was from Priya’s description. He had short blond hair, intense blue eyes, and wore a black, multi-pocket vest with two cameras hanging down the front. Six people in black shirts and jeans crowded around to speak with him so Tonya caught only snatches of what was said.

“You don’t need film school . . .

“California . . .

“Finance . . .

“A guy I know made a horror film for $6,000.00. Got distribution, sold it on Amazon.”

“Sellout!” Priya called over the chatter.

Drake smiled. “Excuse me.” He escaped the huddle of would-be filmmakers and gave Priya a hug. He unclinched when he caught sight of Tonya.

“I see you’ve brought me the next Emma Stone. Welcome to La La Land.”

“Don’t mind him, he’s an idiot.” Priya smiled fondly at Drake.

“But he’s our idiot,” said a guy in a Jaws t-shirt. He had slightly prominent incisors and his hair was artfully messy on top, like the hunky vampire in a teen flick. Tonya wondered if the look was achieved by product or neglect.

“Meet Tonya,” said Priya.

“Hi, Tonya.” Bedhead guy held his hands up, framing her face in an imaginary viewfinder.

When Drake shook her hand, Tonya couldn’t help noticing his firm grip and muscled arms.

“Call him Duck,” said Zain.

“Why?”

“My name’s Drake.”

“Why not use your real name?” asked Tonya.

“Never. A true name gives supernatural forces the power to summon you and . . .” He looked at Tonya and stopped smiling. “You don’t think that’s funny, do you?”

Tonya shrugged. In Loon Lake people didn’t joke about such things.

“She’s not into horror movies,” said Priya.

“Oh, an artist like you?”

“English and History major.”

His eyes sparkled when he smiled at her. “Welcome to Digital Ninjas. This is my assistant director, and roommate, Zain.”

“Sorry!” said Zain.

Tonya followed Zain and Drake back into the scrum where the Ninjas were hammering out their Indie Filmmaker Manifesto.

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“They have a manifesto?” she asked Priya.

“The Ninjas aren’t just a social club. Stick with us and we’ll make things happen.”

“You sound like Lynette.”

Priya made a face.

“I don’t mean you’re obsessed with celebrities and your boyfriend’s abs. She’s in a sorority to meet rich guys and make business connections.”

“Smart girl,” said Priya.

“You think so? I think she’s fake.”

“Jealous?” Priya laughed. “You know, the easiest way to finance an art career is to find a rich patron. Maybe I should join her crowd.”

“Now I know you’re kidding.”

“Partly, but I’d do anything to mount Man vs. Nature properly.” She jerked a thumb at the scrum of Ninjas and their cameras. “These guys are my secret weapon.”

Drake was standing at the front of the room, all eyes on him. “What makes a Ninja so ninja? Is it the black clothing? The special equipment? Is it the catlike way we glide through sets and soundstages?”

“No!” The Ninjas responded.

“Why then?” Tonya asked Priya.

“They’re called Ninjas for silently meeting on location, without permits, to shoot guerrilla footage,” whispered Priya.

Drake continued. “The Ninja style is part art, part sport, and part black belt discipline. What is our war cry?”

“Booms down!” chorused the Ninjas.

“What’s that mean?” Tonya asked Priya.

“When they film a street scene, civilians never notice cameras, but the moment somebody lifts a microphone on a pole, it draws a crowd and spoils the shoot.”

“Smile everybody.” Drake panned his camera across the group. “I want to document this historic moment. First we do Priya’s installation.”

He shot Tonya a smile. “Then we make the best campus horror movie of all time!”

The Ninjas cheered as Priya made her way through the huddle to consult a pretty black girl with a long afro. She stood next to a brown guy in a black t-shirt which listed the top ten rules of indie filmmaking. Every rule contained an F-bomb. On the far side of the room stood three dough-fleshed guys wearing Star Wars t-shirts. They chatted and smiled at Drake, who looked about six feet tall.

His enthusiasm was infectious. Tonya wondered what it would be like to go see a movie with him, but caught herself. It was easy for Priya to hang with these guys. She was a sophisticated Torontonian with artistic talent. Drake seemed friendly, but he probably already had a girlfriend.

Drake left the cluster of Ninjas to join Priya and Tonya.

“Man vs. Nature should open on Halloween,” Priya said. “I want to put it in the cemetery.”

Drake’s eyes lit up.

“Perfect for a horror movie!” Zain responded from among the Star Wars shirts.

“Except it’s an art installation,” said Priya.

“Yeah, but a familiar place is a classic scenario,” said Drake. “After your show, when people return to the cemetery, they’ll expect your beasts to leap out at them,”

“Like Stephen King,” said Zain, “but with maple syrup and beavers.”

“People think Canada can’t be scary.” Drake shook his head. “But if Priya’s art can make Loon Lake feel dangerous, that’s scarier than Hollywood.”

If only they knew, thought Tonya.

“We’re going to need lots of money.” Zain stepped up beside Priya. “How else can I pay for assistants to assist my assistants?”

Drake ignored him. “Horror is the perfect expression of Canadian identity. It’s a cabin in the woods versus a wilderness of shapeshifters and angry spirits, spoiling to burst in.”

“Like Margaret Atwood’s Survival!” Priya said.

“Right. So, this installation,” said Drake “What exactly are your artistic needs?”

“If you listen to Duck,” Zain said, “we’ll spend our lives making experimental films and eating Kraft Dinner. My big artistic need is to pay off my student loan.”

“Hey,” said Priya, “I’m not asking for money. There isn’t going to be any money. Can we forget finance and get back to my installation?”

“Sorry.” Zain pouted like a kid who’d dropped his ice cream cone. Tonya almost laughed.

Priya gathered the Ninjas around a table and started brainstorming ways to incorporate cameras and video screens into her piece. The Ninjas came with their own tech, but when Drake started tacking a storyboard onto the wall, Tonya was hooked. This guy and his friends were going to turn horror movies into Art, and Priya’s Art into video.

They argued camera angles, lighting, and equipment, until Priya’s stomach growled.

“Excuse me. I’m starved.”

“We’re all hungry,” said Drake. “We’ve been at it for hours.”

Tonya hadn’t felt the time pass but the moment he mentioned it, she was hungry.

“Who wants pizza?” asked Drake.

There were cheers, and the Ninjas waved money in the air as Zain collected funds.

Tonya’s stomach burbled. The thought of pepperoni and melting cheese elicited stabs of hunger, as if she hadn’t eaten all day. She put a hand on the wall to steady herself. Her legs felt weak. “I have to go,” she told Priya.

“Aren’t you staying for dinner?”

“Sorry.” Priya and the others could never understand her fear of the freshman fifteen. What, for them, would be a few extra pounds, would be doom for Tonya. She had eaten nothing but soup and salad for months in order to approach a healthy weight—for the first time since childhood. She fled upstairs, determined to leave before she lost her resolve.

“Wait!” Priya followed her halfway up the stairs.

“Sorry.” Tonya didn’t dare stop. Pizza was her worst trigger. Her stomach roared like a lion in the cage of her gut. She wanted to pounce on pepperoni.

Tonya emerged into the cold, pepperoni-free air outside the Hub, and not a moment too soon. In the wood fires of her imagination, she could smell caramelizing onions and crispy crust.

Of course, that was only fantasy. Why get excited about pub pizza? It was probably made in a factory, frozen, and then baked until soggy. Not worth the calories.

Before a waft of fresh-baked scent could leak under the door and change her mind, Tonya started jogging home. She had instant soup and granola bars and fruit in her room. That and a takeout salad from the cafeteria would be better than pizza. She just had to concentrate on the moment.

She jogged along the path strewn with wet autumn leaves, trying hard to think of nothing but the wind on her face, and the pounding of her feet. A couple of times she almost wiped out, the leaves were so slippery. Tonya slowed down. She had left Priya and the Digital Ninjas far behind, but her craving was harder to shake.

Tonya’s breathing was getting ragged. She had shin splints and a stitch in her side. Practicing dives all summer hadn’t prepared her for running, but she’d done okay. She’d gotten away, and that was what mattered.