Zero was carrying a tray of coffees in one hand and someone's dry cleaning in the other when someone suddenly shouted, "YOU! Weird pop star kid!"
"I AM NOT A POP STAR!" Zero shrieked in protest before she actually turned around--and realized it was the assistant director. "I--I mean."
"Whatever. Pop, punk, it all starts with the same letter. Toss that stuff on a chair somewhere, put
this on, and report to wardrobe. On the double." Zero just stared at him. "HP's stunt double tripped over a cable and sprained her ankle, you're the right height, and I've seen your vids on YouTube, you're crazy, so you've just been promoted. Congratulations. Don't say anything, just get your ass to wardrobe and be on set in twenty minutes."
"I don't think she's insured for this..." one of Zero's production assistant bosses said nervously.
"Shut up," Zero and the assistant director chorused.
"Shutting up. Oh, hey, is that my coffee?"
"Does this get my name in the credits?" Zero asked.
"Yes. But you don't get a raise."
She handed the PA the coffees and dropped the dry cleaning on the ground to take the wig. "Deal."