The woman in the bakery, the guy in the fish shop, the supermarket cashiers and bus drivers and strangers in the street, because the camera doesn’t have a record of their faces, they are all blurs.

A few tenth-grade girls are giggling and pointing at Danny and trying to catch his eye, but he pretends not to notice.

On the bus on the way to school, when the camera was nowhere near my hand, he squeezed it the way I always wished Dad would, just to pretend everything was all right. And suddenly, there was another feeling in the mix, one I wasn’t prepared for. If I think about it too much, I start to panic, because I have a job to do, and there’s no time for distractions.

Some people have their phones out, watching my livestream and trying to sneak their way into the shot. But most keep their distance.

During classes, it’s clear a couple of teachers like that I have a camera crew with me and others not so much.

Mr. Collins, our English lit teacher, does his best to keep his back to us for the whole period, which I’m sure is against the rules of the Department of Education.

I don’t blame him. I think teachers have the right to be blurred out just as much as their students, but Mrs. Bradley decided for them. I don’t feel guilty, though, even if he gives me the evil eye as I leave, like it’s my fault he’s going to be observed once a week for at least a month and not only when the teacher evaluators visit the classroom.

I have two free periods today, and for the first one, Hanna and I make small talk while Danny and Michael sit in the corner. No one else speaks to us. A few kids hang around, hoping to be extras, but most avoid the room altogether, watching from the doorway or quickly making a detour to the other side of the eleventh-grade homeroom when they notice the camera.

Seniors get an entire upstairs area in the main building. However, our homeroom is an old portable hut that used to be two classrooms but is now full of secondhand sofas and a microwave. At least no one bothers us here.

Hanna clearly doesn’t feel comfortable being filmed, but she’s doing her best, and I’m grateful she hasn’t left me.

For my second free period, with both Hanna and Emily in class, I pretend to read while Michael films what has to be one of the most boring hours in history.

Adrian told us to do what we always do. He said people would watch when they could and that our highlights the following morning will make up a large portion of our views. But I’m still worried I should be doing more.