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by CJC (cjconway415@comcast.net)

Rated: R   Genre: Drama   User Review:

A reclusive teen wracked with depression struggles to alter his miserable lifestyle before his highschool years end. This is a work in progress.

This screenplay is copyrighted to its author. All rights reserved. This screenplay may not be used or reproduced without the express written permission of the author.

Thick rain is heard from outside. The bedroom is so dark you
can hardly see anything. Only the dull blue morning glow
that leaks through the blinds from outside outlines the
room's contents. As your eyes adjust, you discover a
relatively empty room, with only the bare essentials. A
figure lays on the bed, you can see the weak shine of his
open eyes. Although the image of him is distorted, it's
apparent he's been awake for quite a while. He peers
meaninglessly all around his room and runs his hands across
his face, distressed. He repositions himself and forces his
eyes shut as he lays motionless for a beat. He rolls back to
his original position and pulls sharply at his blankets,
untucking them. He stares at the ceiling and then over at
his alarm clock, which reads "5:59". He waits on the alarm,
and as it sounds, he guides his hand over to it and quickly
disarms it. He sits up on his bed and wipes the sleep from
his eyes, he pulls a pair of pants from a chair near his bed
and slips them on, as well as a shirt. He stands wearily as
he puts a pair of snow socks on, and nearly falls over.
Longish dark hair is severly matted, and he puts a beanie on
over it and trudges out of the room.
The bathroom is pitch black without any windows. Suddenly
the light is switched on, the bright grating lights impair
the boy's vision, he squints to look himself over in the
mirror. He removes a toothbrush from the drawer and
carefully brushes his teeth, he spits and examines his
teeth. He gargles a capfull of mouthwash and spits he out,
he flosses. He wets his face and applies shaving cream to
it, he carefully shaves his stubble, he applies after-shave
balm to his face. He re-examines himself in the mirror,
positioning his head in order to see his entire face. He
splashes some water on his face, squeezes some soap into his
hands and lathers it into his face, he washes the lather
off. He removes his beanie and dunks his puffy hair into the
sink, he lifts the drippy mass from the sink and applies a
large amount of prouduct to it, he crafts it, carefully
blowdrying it. He removes the cap off a stick of deoderant
and applies it to his underarms. He then examines his face
again, he his head. He sprays some cologne on himself picks
up some tweezers and cautiosly plucks about his eyebrows. He
positions the medicine cabinet mirror for one final analysis
of and puts the finishing touches on his hair, shaping it. A
knock at the door startles him, a female voice is heard,
what she says is indecipherable.


Ok, I'm coming.
He puts his beanie on again and turns the sink off, as he
exits he turns the light off.
The car in front of the house is running with the heater on.
The car is a Honda Civic, it's black and dusty, it has
scratches on some of it. A woman in her late thirties waits
in a car, she looks vaguely similar to the boy, she has his
head shape. She rubs her hands together, and then switches
the radio on to some news station, they're reporting some
murder, the radio buzzes between this station and some music
station apparently (pieces of Prince's "Kiss" fade in and
out). She waits a while longer in peace, listening, she
eventually honks the horn. The boy emerges from the house
with his backpack on, his shoes are not fully tied. He opens
the car door and drops down in the seat, disrupting the
peaceful silence.
He shuts the door.
You're the one who's going to be
The boy acknowledges this with a nod. The woman pulls the
car out of the driveway, flips it around and begins to
ascend a little hill, this side of the hill is misleading
though, as it really goes down the other side much farther,
it is a very large, steep hill. Nearly the entire town can
be seen from here, the few lights glitter in the dark, and
the car lights send defined white beams through the fog. It
is silent inside the car except for the sound of the heater
and the low murmur of the radio, the peacefulness settles
back into the car. They descend quickly into the town, both
listening to the radio.
The radio waves are becoming more defined, and a commercial
advertising Viagra can now be made out. She slows briefly at
a stop sign then speeds up again, they are now level with
the town, it looks much more real. The boy gazes out the
window at the cold morning, someone is watering their plants
by streetlight. The woman merges into another lane to avoid
a biker going the same direction, the boy clearly pretends
to scratch his head to mask his face and avoid being seen.


They approach the school, it is visible through the fog now,
it looks massive and intimidating: teachers, students, cars
move all about it. The boy lets a long slow sigh out of his
nose as the mother approaches the dropoff point, a student
is conversing with someone in the car blocking the dropoff
point while the boy and his mother wait, staring at the car.
This is a daydream the boy has, only the heater is heard
during this scene, all other sounds are muted. The boy walks
through the muggy school campus alongside a girl not seen
before. They smile to each other.
The car is currently stopped in the dropoff point, the boy
steps out and grabs his backpack from the car, he waves
goodbye to his mother, then shuts the door. He turns his
back and begins to walk, the car is seen driving away behind
him. The boy walks stiffly in the cold, he jams his hands in
his pockets. He approaches a building and turns the corner,
he is face to face with a chubby girl and prepares to
maneuver around her, but she motions and he stopps, he tries
another angle but fails again, finally he allows her to
pass, she rolls her eyes in annoyance.
He mumbles the apology weakly, it's unlikely she heard. He
approaches the locker rooms.
The boy walks down the empty locker room, his footstepps
echo throughout. He approaches a specific locker and enters
the combination "12-0-18". He opens the locker and unzipps
his backpack, he removes a large history book from the
locker and slides it into his backpack, he removes a black
binder from his backpack and slides it into the locker, he
removes a binder entitled "English" from the locker and
places it into his backpack. He zipps his packpack up, puts
it on, and exits the room.


He enters the room, walks to his seat, and eases himself
down in it, he removes his beanie and sets it on his lap.
His hair is flat where it was covered by his beanie, and
curling in the back. The room is vacant save the boy and the
teacher- she looks to be in her late twenties but her hair
is cut short as if she were older. The teacher sits at her
desk, writing something. The boy sits in an empty class with
an empty desk, playing with his hands. He tapps his desk,
and makes a pattern with his fingers. He looks toward the
door- still open, and examines the room, he meets eyes with
the teacher now looking at him. He smiles, his smile looks
strange because his eyes remain melancholy, she returns with
a warm, sincere smile then continues her work. Without
transition, students flood the room, conversing and laughing
together. He then unzipps his backpack and places his
History book on his desk, ready to begin. The final bell
rings, and the students continue to laugh and talk, then the
teacher closes her book and stands up in front of the
                       HISTORY TEACHER
Ok, now I want everyone to...
Her voice can not be heard under the students' loudness. She
temporarily gives up and walks across the room and shuts the
door. She walks to her original location and exerts herself
again, a bit louder this time.
                       HISTORY TEACHER
I can wait...
The students ignore the teacher, the boy remains silent at
his desk with his hands crossed, waiting. She looks across
all the students' faces.
                       HISTORY TEACHER
The classroom gets noticeably more quiet.
                       HISTORY TEACHER
C'mon you guys, I shouldn't have
to waste ten minutes of class time
trying to get you quiet.
The room is silent now. She speaks as if she is frusterated
and annoyed.


                       HISTORY TEACHER
I shouldn't have to do this
everyday- if I can just say what I
need to say you have the rest of
the period to do your homework,
but if you'd rather do it at home
that's fine.
Silence a beat.
                       HISTORY TEACHER
Alright, now take out your
homework from last night. I'll
come around and check it.
The classroom motions all at once for their supplies. The
boy glances around the room at other people trying to figure
out what's going on. The teacher walks around with a
clipboard in her hand. One by one she checks the students'
work and marks it on her clipboard. She arrives at the boy's
The History classroom door swings open. All the students
exit in a group, talking to each other- lastly, the boy
exits. He puts his beanie on and arranges his hair under it.
The boy picks up fragments of conversation as he walks by
other students. He walks to a secluded bench where four male
students now congregate near. They are standing in a circle,
and the boy stands just outside of it. The one standing
closest to the boy has short black hair and is very skinny,
he has a Hurley shirt on- this is Chris. The next boy is
very tall and fat, he has long ugly brown hair, this is
Victor. The next boy has short blonde hair and is slightly
chubby, this is Bill. The last boy in the circle has short
brown hair and wears a Flybikes T-shirt, this is Cedric.
      (speaks fast)
Yeah- what a faggot, I almost
said, "quit looking at me you
fucking faggot".
They all laugh indluding the boy, who is now noticed.
      (to Boy)
Woaw, how long were you standing


      (to Boy)
Dude, why don't you say something
if you're here?
(Changing subject) Boy, I
overslept this weekend.
How the hell do you oversleep?
I don't know.
Blonde girl walks by.
Chris, didn't your brother have
sex with that hoe?
I don't know, man.
No, they only showered together.
It was at a party last year.
But she was naked?
Yeah she was, he wore his boxers,
I think.
I don't give a shit what he was
Dude, how do you know all this?
      (Smiling, proud of
       his knowledge)
I don't know.


A beat.
I had kinda...well I liked her at
the beginning of the year. She was
such a slut before she came here
Before she started High School?
The boy watches the girl in the distance, she smiles and
looks so warm and engaging with her freinds. The boy looks
as if he pities her.
Oh yeah, I heard something about
that. She went to some kind of
rehab center or something.
Well it wasn't a "rehab" place- it
was a church.
      (Cutting Bill off
       to imitate Cedric)
"Rehab Center".
They all laugh. The boy is still watching the girl, now
talking to a group of boys in Football Jerseys. They meet
eyes and the boy quickly averts them.
I have to go the bathroom.
Without a nod or gesture, the boy departs. The boy watches
as the girl walks off campus with her group of freinds.
Students sit working on computers scattered about the
library. The boy enters and sits in front of an unoccupied
computer. He looks at the clock, it's 1:39, he types
something into the computer. He removes a history book from
his backpack and starts working. After a while an adult
figure approaches him from the back and touches the boy
lightly on the shoulder to alert him of his presence. The


boy looks back at him. The man looks quite young and is
wearing sunglasses, his hair is short and brown and he
dresses quite trendily, this is Joshua.
      (extending hand)
      (shakes his hand)
Hi. You're Joshua right?
Yup. So, you wanna go in back and
get started?
The boy follows Joshua into the Teacher's Lounge.
They enter, the boy not far behind Joshua. There is a single
table with an empty cofee can in the far back, there is also
a sink and mirror beside on the desktop bordering the small
room. They sit down opposite each other in the cramped room
and begin.
So, what do you think of high
school so far?
Yeah, I like it. It's good, you
Oh man, I hated high school. It
was the worst for me.
      (opening up)
How come?
I was just uh. Kind of a troubled
kid, I guess you could say...


Joshua props his sunglasses up against his forehead,
revealing his eyes for the first time. He turns and searches
the room with his eyes then returns to the boy.
Really. But try to keep it on the
low down if you will. I think some
of these teachers may still hold a
grudge, maybe.
Joshua smiles a warm, engaging smile.
Of course.
Sorry to drag, I just want to know
a little about you before we get
It's ok.
So do you play any sports?
So do you have a girlfreind?
The boy feigns a smile and nodds "no".
Do you play any musical
instruments perhaps?
The boy makes a strange, uncomfortable laugh.
I'm kind of a loser.
Josh looks surprised.


What? You're not a loser, man.
Don't say that- you're making me
I'm sorry.
Josh laughs.
Don't say your sorry. Ever. I
don't like those words.
The boy snaps his hand over his mouth.
What makes you say you're a loser?
I don't know- I'm just kidding...
I have some English we could do.
This is much more important than
school. You can't walk around
thinking you're a loser, buddy.
That's not right.
An ackward pause.
Alright, let's get started.
It is still raining profusely. The boy walks down the
sidewalk by himself, students drive by, one blaring Usher's
"Yeah". He mumbles miserably to himself, hardly moving his
Goddamnit I am such a fucking


Chris zooms by with his trendy sports car.
The boy is pacing quickly towards his house, he is somewhat
winded as he approaches the door and enters.
The living room is fairly spacious, it has two couches, one
is three cusion and the other two. They are placed in an "L"
shape, the TV opposite the smaller one, there is also a
small table in the center of the room. The boy sits in a
lazy pose on the couch watching TV with the remote in his
hand and with a bowl of half-eaten Chef Boyardee on is lap.
A Pepsi can lies the table in front of him. He flipps
through the channels: one plays a heated political debate
about Iraq, the next shows a video of Usher's "Yeah", the
next is a shopping network, the next is some ridiculous
fashion critique show, and finally a show featuring
teenagers socializing and running around on the beach- the
TV switches off.
The boy sits at his desk writing something on a piece of
paper. The voiceover begins.
                       BOY (VO)
I'm sorry to say that I can no
longer continue in this fashion,
the droning aching sadn-
The phone rings, it is conveniently just within arm's reach,
the boy answers it.
Hi this is George Johnson, David's
basketball coach. Is Mr. Hubley
No he's not here right now. Um,
can I leave a message?


Yeah, you ready?
The boy looks at the pen in his hand and the paper in front
of him for a beat. He flips the paper over.
The coach speaks lighting fast. The boy attempts to write
what the coach is saying.
Yeah, alright well practice is
going to be held next Wednesday at
6:30 in Milvont. Our game is on
Saturday at 12:30, but tell Dave
to show up at least 45 minutes
beforehand, he should know that.
We'll have another short practice
the day after about a quater after
two, and that one will be up in
Staten, by the automall, do they
know where that is?
Ummm...I'm not sure.
Ok it's easy- you just take
Highway 96 right off Jackson and
head North all the way up to
Ridgeville until you reach the
turnoff. Don't turnoff and oh,
say, 15 more minutes will bring
you right into Staten turnoff.
Ok thanks.
The coach continues as if he hadn't paused.
Once you reach Staten it's really
easy, all you do is follow the
college campus- if you came right
you'll see a big college campus.
Follow it then turn onto...I can't
remember the name it's got
something to do with an animal or
color or something.


      (paralyzed with
And we're right at the end of that
street. And who's this?
      (pauses to think)
Oh. I'm uh, Elliot. I'm David's
older brother.
Hm, I didn't know he had a
brother. Well, bye.
George hangs up without waiting for a response. Elliot
clicks the phone off shortly afterwards. He looks at the
paper in front of him, which reads "GEORGE". He grunts with
Elliot is lying in bed with his face buried in his pillow,
it is noticebly darker outside. His body trembles slightly
as it becomes apparent he is crying. He gets up from his
bed, his face red and eyes bloodshot and he walks into the


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