ACT THREE
FADE IN:
INT. THE L.A. CHRONICLE LOBBY
Sam walks through the sliding glass doors, and pauses for a
moment to take in the spacious lobby. before steeling herself
and marching up to the security desk.
SECURITY GUARD
Can I help you, Ma'am?
SAM
Uh—yes. I'm Sam McPherson. I'm
here to see, uh, Art Fleischer...?
SECURITY GUARD
(looking down)
Do you have an ap—
FLEISCHER (O.S.)
Sam!
Sam and the security guard both turn to see Fleischer
approaching from somewhere deeper within the building. He
comes around the security desk and claps Sam on the shoulder.
FLEISCHER (CONT'D)
Good to see you again.
(to the security guard)
Jack, this is Sam—she's going to
be the new wombat.
(to Sam)
There's been a slight change in
plans—we have to send you up to
Personnel first thing. Turns out
they're incredibly anal about
these things. I hope you don't
have a phobia about filling out
forms.
The security guard pushes a clipboard across the desk.
SECURITY GUARD
If you'll just sign in, Ma'am.
Sam scrawls her signature.
FLEISCHER
Oh—this is Jack. He's usually
here afternoons. And after you
start working here, you can forget
about being called "ma'am".
You'll be "hey you" before you
know it.
SAM
Mr. Fleischer—
FLEISCHER
Art, please, Art. Every time
someone your age says "Mr.
Fleischer", another one of my
hairs turns gray.
SAM
Could we just...talk for a minute?
FLEISCHER
Ah...sure.
After a quick look around, he guides her to a bench along the
wall of the lobby, where they sit.
FLEISCHER (CONT'D)
So...?
Sam takes a deep breath.
SAM
I...I just don't know if I'm going
to do any good here.
FLEISCHER
Your writing says otherwise.
SAM
No, I mean...
She runs her hands through her hair, attempting—none too
successfully—to gather herself.
SAM (CONT'D)
I haven't—I haven't hardly been
to school since... And even when
I went, I...I tried, but I just...
can't...
Fleischer reaches over and clasps her hands.
FLEISCHER
Who did you lose?
SAM
It's...my uncle...Pete...
FLEISCHER
Sam, I am so sorry.
Sam peers at him intently, as if trying to make some kind of
connection.
SAM
He called me...the night before...
he was just landing in New York,
and he called... he'd been in
Egypt for three years, and...he
wasn't even supposed to...he was
just supposed to...just stop at
his office...
She gives up trying to talk and hangs her head; Fleischer
reaches up and gently brushes the hair away from her face.
FLEISCHER
Look, Sam... We don't have
anyone here who's lost family—
thank God—but there are some who
lost friends, acquaintances...
We know how to deal with this. We
all help each other get through
it. And there are people here,
people you can talk to.
SAM
You mean, like—?
FLEISCHER
Counselors, okay? No
psychobabble, just people who are
good at listening. Look, all I'm
saying is—God, I'm the wrong
person to be trying to do this—I
know that you probably feel
completely, totally alone. Right?
But you aren't, really. Your
family is there for you, your
friends are there...all these
people that would turn somersaults
for you.
Sam shrugs inperceptively.
FLEISCHER (CONT'D)
I know...you want to just curl up
and make the world go away. But
you can't do that, Sam. You
just...have to keep putting one
foot in front of the other.
Because even if it seems like you
aren't getting anywhere, you are.
Man, does that sound trite...but
it's true.
Fleischer waits for some kind of reaction from Sam. Not
getting one, he sighs and tries again.
FLEISCHER (CONT'D)
Sam...you're a really good writer.
You could be a really, really good
reporter. It would be a shame if
you gave up on that.
As Sam appears to waver just a bit, Fleischer puts a game arm
around her shoulder.
FLEISCHER (CONT'D)
Whaddya say, huh? Come up to
Personnel with me, spend a couple
of hours filling out forms, and
then... Well, after a couple of
hours with those forms,
anything'll look good.
He pulls back and sports Sam a hopeful look. Several moments
of silence pass between them. Finally, she lets out a short
sigh and shrugs unenthusiastically.
SAM
Okay.
FLEISCHER
(slapping his knee)
There you go! Come on, we'll get
you all set up.
He gets up and half-pulls Sam to her feet.
FLEISCHER (CONT'D)
(earnestly)
We'll get you through this, Sam.
I promise.
Fleischer guides her back toward the elevators.
SAM
Uh...Mr. Flei—
Fleischer clears his throat loudly.
SAM (CONT'D)
—Art? Could I ask...just one
other thing?
FLEISCHER
What?
SAM
Um..."wombat"?
FLEISCHER
Oh, that's a very long story. You
might even find it funny...
DISSOLVE TO:
INT. PRINCIPAL KRUPPS' OFFICE - LATER
The office is empty and darkened, until the door cracks open
and a head—Mary Cherry's—pops through, looking around
cautiously. A moment later the door swings open and Mary
Cherry and Carmen sneak in.
CARMEN
(hushed)
Mary Cherry, this is a really bad
idea.
MARY CHERRY
Shhh! It's for a good cause,
remember?
The pair make their way over to Krupps' desk, where Mary
Cherry starts to rifle through stacks of papers.
CARMEN
Careful! He'll know someone's
been in here.
MARY CHERRY
(dismissively)
Guys never notice stuff like that.
Besides, I'm an old pro at this.
CARMEN
(sighing to herself)
Why am I not surprised?
Mary Cherry finds the folder she's looking for, and starts
flipping through it.
MARY CHERRY
(flipping pages)
Nobody...nobody...nobody...
(pulls out a sheet)
Ewww.
Carmen looks over her shoulder.
CARMEN
Jessica Landon?
MARY CHERRY
Too good.
She crumples up the sheet and sticks it in her bag. Then she
goes through the rest of the file, making vague noises of
approval or disapproval, and getting rid of more applicants.
Meanwhile, Carmen is looking on, aghast, but unsure of what to
do.
CARMEN
(tugging at Mary Cherry's sleeve)
Mary Cherry! What's going to
happen when all those girls find
out their applications are
missing?
MARY CHERRY
By the time they figure that out,
they'll be out, and we'll be in.
Now, where's that other...?
She hunts around, and soon comes up with another folder. She
opens it and thumbs through it quickly.
MARY CHERRY (CONT'D)
Well, this part is gonna be easy.
She lays the folder flat on the desk, reaches into her bag and
pulls out a paper with Brooke's photo attached. She lays it
neatly on top of the stack, closes the folder and puts it back
where it came from.
MARY CHERRY (CONT'D)
Now, let's get the heck out of
here.
CARMEN
That's the smartest thing I've
heard you say today.
They head for the door, and after making sure the coast is
clear, quickly leave. But no sooner do they get into the
hallway than Brooke comes around the corner—for once walking
(not too steadily) without her cane. Her appearance triggers
a frantic shuffle by Carmen and Mary Cherry, as they project a
thoroughly unconvincing air of innocence. Brooke advances on
them suspiciously.
BROOKE
All right, what are you two up to?
CARMEN/MARY CHERRY
Us?
BROOKE
Yes, YOU. Are you still trying to
rig that video competition?
MARY CHERRY
Now, Brooke, how could we do that?
Principal Krupps has already
announced it to the whole school.
BROOKE
I don't know...but you'd think of
something. You should hear
yourself—you sound exactly like
Nicole.
MARY CHERRY
(grumbling)
I wish you'd stop comparing me to
her.
BROOKE
I wish you'd stop acting like her.
MARY CHERRY
But—this is different! Nicole
used her deviousness and scheming
for evil! I'm using my powers for
the side of good and
righteousness!
Brooke holds up her hands.
BROOKE
You know what—I don't even want
to know. Just leave me out of it.
Mary Cherry and Carmen exchange a glance.
MARY CHERRY
(backing away)
Uh...sure.
CARMEN
Yeah, you're way, way out of it.
The two girls are so busy trying to make a clean getaway that
they don't notice a boy, carrying a stack of books, coming up
behind them. They both back right into him, bowling him over
and sending books flying everywhere.
CARMEN (CONT'D)
Oops!
Carmen stops and starts to help the boy up, but Mary Cherry
grabs her arm and drags her off down the hallway.
MARY CHERRY
(over her shoulder)
Sorry!
Brooke stares open-mouthed at the departing girls.
BROOKE
Guys? Guys!
Shaking her head in disgust, Brooke makes her way over to the
where the boy is sitting on the floor, and extends her hand.
He takes it and starts to pull himself up—but Brooke's leg
gives way, and she ends up in a heap on top of him.
BROOKE (CONT'D)
Oh! I'm sorry!
The boy, who aside from the large stack of books is
sporting a bad haircut, thick-rimmed glasses and a thoroughly
geeky outfit, disentangles himself.
BOY
Maybe we oughta help each other
up.
After they are both back on their feet, he looks around and
starts to gather up the books. Brooke obligingly holds them
while he rebuilds the stack. When all the books are
collected, he takes them from her; she smiles and proceeds to
lift off the top half of the stack for herself.
BROOKE
So, were are you headed?
BOY
Oh—I've, uh, got a locker...
Awkwardly he digs a piece of paper out of his pocket and
sneaks a glance at it.
BOY (CONT'D)
...217?
BROOKE
(tilting her head)
That's this way. Come on.
CUT TO:
INT. SCHOOL HALLWAY - MOMENTS LATER
As the books are unceremoniously dumped into an open locker.
The boy closes and locks it, and turns to Brooke.
BOY
(awkwardly)
Uh, well, thanks for doing that...
um—?
BROOKE
(holding out her hand)
Brooke.
BOY
Billy.
They shake hands.
BOY (CONT'D)
Well, uh, I guess I'll um...I'll
see you around.
Without further ado, he takes off down the hallway, leaving
Brooke to look after him, slightly bemused.
CUT TO:
INT. THE L.A. CHRONICLE NEWSROOM
The newsroom is typically hectic as Fleischer makes his way
through it. As a featured columnist, he rates a private
office and an assistant, who is busily tapping away at her
computer when he approaches.
FLEISCHER
Vicki?
She stops and looks up expectantly.
VICKI
Where's your new protge?
FLEISCHER
In the clutches of the anal
retentives in Personnel. I'll
have to go rescue her after a
while.
(pause)
Listen, I need something.
Vicki picks up a pad and pen.
VICKI
Shoot.
FLEISCHER
I need you to dig up whatever you
can on someone who was at the
World Trade Center.
VICKI
(scribbling)
Who?
FLEISCHER
Peter McPherson.
VICKI
Peter Mc—
(looking up)
McPherson? As in...?
FLEISCHER
(nodding)
Her uncle.
VICKI
(lips pursing)
How's she handling it?
FLEISCHER
Not good. I really want to help
her. I'm hoping...I don't know,
just, see if you can find out
something useful.
VICKI
(writing)
Okay. You got it.
Fleischer disappears into this office, and Vicki turns back to
her computer.
CUT TO:
INT. CHEMISTRY CLASS - LATER
Miss Glass has Billy at her side.
GLASS
Ten-HUT!
The kids stop their chatter and sit at attention, more or
less.
GLASS (CONT'D)
(gesturing)
This is Billy Cole, and he's in
this class until further notice.
CARMEN
(raising her hand)
And you want us to make him feel
welcome?
GLASS
(dryly)
Yes, Miss Ferrera, I want the
whole class to take the rest of
the week off to plan a raucous
party for our new student.
CARMEN
Okay, you're being sarcastic now,
right?
GLASS
You know, I'd like to say that I'm
touched at how well we've gotten
to know each other—but it really
just makes me want to vomit.
(pause)
NOW, as I was saying, Mr. Cole
needs a seat.
Brooke raises her hand.
BROOKE
Miss Glass? He can sit here.
GLASS
(looking over)
Miss McPherson still on her
sabbatical?
(to Billy, pointing)
Go.
Billy obediently sits next to Brooke.
BILLY
(whispering)
Is she always like that?
BROOKE
Uh, yeah.
(pause)
So, are you any good at chemistry?
BILLY
Oh, I did pretty good in—um, at
my last school.
BROOKE
Good, 'cause I got lost about the
second day.
BILLY
Well...I can try to help.
DISSOLVE TO:
MONTAGE
A short montage of Miss Glass lecturing on some topic actually
related to chemistry, complete with diagrams on the
blackboard; Brooke looking fairly confused; and Billy pointing
things out in her book and generally being helpful—while
Harrison shoots a couple of glances at them from across the
room.
CUT TO:
INT. SCHOOL HALLWAY - LATER
As chemistry class is letting out, Brooke and Billy emerge
through the doorway.
BROOKE
Thanks a lot. I told you I was
lost.
BILLY
Ah...I didn't do that much. I
mean, you got most of it okay.
BROOKE
Believe me, you are a lot better
at helping than Sam is.
BILLY
Sam?
BROOKE
Oh—she's my sister—um, step
sister...anyway, she normally sits
next to me. But she's not a whole
lot better at chemistry than I am.
BILLY
Oh...well, it's okay, I can find
somewhere else to sit tomorrow.
BROOKE
You're welcome to stay until she
comes back.
(pause)
You know...I might need help with
this assignment. I still don't
think I know what exactly she was
talking about.
BILLY
Ah—if you want, I can, um, yeah,
I can help.
BROOKE
Great!
She waits expectantly for a couple of seconds.
BROOKE (CONT'D)
I, uh...need your number?
BILLY
Oh! Right...of course, that's...
right.
He fumbles for a piece of paper, and after Brooke helpfully
hands him her pen, he scribbles down his number and hands it
to her.
BROOKE
I promise, I'll only call if it's
a chemistry emergency.
BILLY
Oh, no, that's...I mean, you
can...um...okay.
After petering out, he abruptly turns on his heel and walks
away, again leaving Brooke chuckling to herself.
FADE OUT.
END OF ACT THREE
