ACT THREE

FADE IN:

INT. KRUPPS' VESTIBULE - CONTINUOUS

Sam just stands there, gaping.

SAM
Excuse me?

KRUPPS
I'd like it very much if you came
to live here. There's a spare
bedroom, with its own bathroom, at
the other end of the hall from my
room. you'd have all the privacy
you wanted, come and go as you
please—I definitely would not
"cramp your style"...

SAM
But, I HAVE a place!

KRUPPS
Sam...you live in a run-down studio
in a run-down building in a run-
down part of town. Your neighbor
got beaten in her own apartment.
That could've been YOU.

Sam lays a comforting hand on his arm.

SAM
I appreciate the offer, really.
But I'll be all right. Promise.
Now, if we're going to talk about
budget projections—

She looks around.

SAM
Shoot. I left them in the car.

She turns around and starts back towards the door.

KRUPPS
Sam...

Sam turns back expectantly.

KRUPPS (CONT'D)
Just think about it, okay?

SAM
(sigh)
Okay. But I'm not changing my
mind.

She heads for the door again.

CUT TO:

EXT. KENNEDY HIGH - AFTERNOON

Harrison is sitting quietly on a low landscaping wall, staring
out at some point in the distance. Natalie comes up and sits
a few feet away. She doesn't look over at him; instead she
also gazes off at something far away. (In fact, they have
most of this conversation without ever looking at each other.)

NATALIE
(dully)
How could you possibly understand?

HARRISON
I just do.

NATALIE
You don't know how it feels.

HARRISON
You can't just be friends. You
can't be around them, day after
day, acting like nothing's
changed...watching them be with
someone else.

NATALIE
(faintly surprised)
Yeah.

HARRISON
I said something like that to Sam.
When she picked George.

NATALIE
Oh.

A long silence.

NATALIE (CONT'D)
You were a wuss.

HARRISON
What?

NATALIE
Letting Sam pick George.

HARRISON
I didn't LET Sam pick. I MADE Sam
pick.

NATALIE
That wasn't very smart.

HARRISON
Well, I didn't think she'd pick
HIM.

NATALIE
You were still a wuss. You
should've fought for her.

HARRISON
You mean, fight-fight? George
woulda kicked my ass.

NATALIE
So? At least you would've DONE
something.
(pause)
Besides, if you really love
somebody, aren't they worth getting
your ass kicked for?

Harrison's expression makes it clear he hadn't considered that
before.

HARRISON
Maybe.

After another silence, a disturbing thought occurs to him.

HARRISON (CONT'D)
Natalie...you're not going to...?

NATALIE
Fight?

HARRISON
Yeah.

NATALIE
Maybe.

Harrison closes his eyes tiredly.

HARRISON
Please, please don't fight Brooke.
I don't want to see either one of
you hurt.

NATALIE
(plainly)
Too late. But don't feel bad—it's
not your fault.
(pause)
Unless you consider being cute your
fault.

HARRISON
Hey, I didn't ask you to be
attracted to me.

NATALIE
Yeah. Me either.

Lingering silence.

HARRISON
So now what?

NATALIE
I guess I'd better go throw down
with Brooke.

They look at each other.

NATALIE (CONT'D)
Kidding.

HARRISON
Promise me that you will not fight
with Brooke.

NATALIE
Don't you think that's a bit
presumptuous, demanding promises
from someone who you want to go
away?

HARRISON
(serious)
Please.

NATALIE
(sigh)
Tell you what—I promise I won't
fight with Brooke, if she doesn't
fight with me.

HARRISON
Okay.

NATALIE
Okay. But I swear, Harrison—she
raises a hand to me, I'll kick her
ass all the way to Tiajuana.

HARRISON
Great. I'm being wooed by a street
fighter.

NATALIE
"Wooed"?
(thinking)
Wooed...that's what I'll do! I'll
woo you!

HARRISON
(rubbing his eyes)
Oh, God, please don't.

Natalie hops off the wall.

NATALIE
I'll be fun! I gotta go read up on
this wooing thing. Seeya,
Harrison!

And just like that, she's gone.

HARRISON
(groaning)
Aw, MAN...

CUT TO:

EXT. MCQUEEN FRONT PORCH - LATER

Brooke steps up to her front door, but doesn't open it.
Instead she turns away, struggling with herself. Then she
takes a couple of deep, tantric breaths, and puts that
expressionless mask on her face.

CUT TO:

INT. MCQUEEN LIVING ROOM - CONTINUOUS

Brooke walks into her home, the perfectly unapproachable
Stepford child. However, the effect is wasted: the room is
deserted. A slight pffft of disappoitment is the only
reaction Brooke allows herself. She wanders over to the
endtable where the day's mail is piled. Idly she picks the
pile up.

INSERT: THE MAIL

The top envelope in Brooke's hand is addressed to her, with
the UCLA seal in the corner. She shuffles the envelopes, and
we see the top five are from various colleges.

Brooke separates the college letters and sets the rest of the
mail back down. She picks up a handy letter opener and slices
open the first envelope, pulling out the letter inside.

INSERT: THE LETTER

The most obvious part of the letter is the large "DECLINED"
stamped in red at the top. A few phrases come into sharp
focus, such as "not granted admission" and "insufficient grade
point average".

Brooke shakes her head in confusion, or shock, or both.
Hurriedly she opens the other envelopes, ripping out the
letters. As it becomes obvious that they are all rejections,
Brooke comes closer to crying, tears welling up in her eyes.
She's on the verge of losing it when, from behind her:

MIKE
Brooke?

Brooke freezes. Unseen by Mike—and Jane, who is with him—
her fists clench, and she squeezes her eyes shut tightly,
blinking away her tears. She makes a concerted effort to
control her breathing. It takes a few seconds, but finally
the mask drops back into place.

BROOKE
(emotionless)
Yes?

MIKE
Did you see the mail?

BROOKE
Yes.

MIKE
(helpful)
You got letters from colleges.

BROOKE
I saw them.

MIKE
(prompting)
And?

No answer; just the barest shrug.

MIKE
(exasperated)
Did you open them yet?

BROOKE
Yes.

MIKE
And?

Jane takes a step forward.

JANE
(calm)
Brooke, can we see the letters,
please?

Unfortunately for Brooke, the compliant but indifferent
attitude she's adopted makes it impossible to just ignore a
polite request. So she silently holds the batch of envelopes
and letters up, offering them over her shoulder without
turning around. Jane comes forwards and takes them out of
Brooke's hand, then returns to Mike's side. Together they
examine the letters, and—still unseen—Brooke grits her teeth
as she hears the hasps and expressions of shock from behind
her.

MIKE
What is—? This is impossible—!
Brooke!

Brooke gives herself another moment to compose herself. Then
she slowly turns to face Mike and Jane, utterly impassive.

MIKE (CONT'D)
This is outrageous! Did you see
these?

BROOKE
Yes.

MIKE
Your grades are more than good
enough to get into any of these
schools! We need to march right
down to the high school and
demand—

He breaks off, peering at Brooke unreadable face.

MIKE (CONT'D)
(shouting)
What's wrong with you? Don't you
care?

Brooke just shrugs, but she's having to work to keep her face
still and her breathing steady; it's clear that her control is
skating on a razor-thin edge. Jand puts a calming hand on
Mike's arm and steps between them.

JANE
Brooke, I know you're hurt. And
confused. I can see it. We can
help you. Please, won't you talk
to us? Won't you let us help you?

Brooke swallows, her jaw clenched.

BROOKE
No.

She turns away and, very deliberately, walks towards the
stairs. Mike makes a move as though he's going to call her
back, but Jane's grip on his arm tightens, and he holds his
peace.

From behind and below it looks as though Brooke is the model
of poise. But in fact—though she keeps her body from
trembling—the tears are running down her face before she
reaches the top of the stairs.

Meanwhile, Mike looks at Jane bleakly.

MIKE
Go ahead.

JANE
Mike...

MIKE
We have to. There's nothing else
we can do now.

Jane nods soberly. She fishes a business card out from
somewhere, walks over to the other endtable and picks up the
living room phone. Reading the card, she punches out a
number, and waits for an answer.

JANE
(into the phone)
Hello? This is, uh, Jane
McQueen... Please, it's
important... No, it's Brooke...
Look, we need help. You might be
the only person she'll listen to...
If you would. We'd be very
grateful... All right.

CUT TO:

INT. BROOKE'S BEDROOM

By the time Brooke gets to her room, she is weeping freely,
but silently. She flings the door behind her, catching it
just in time to keep it from slamming shut. Running to her
bedside table, she picks up her phone, speed-dails a number—
only to get a busy signal. She throws the phone across the
room, falling on the bed and curling up in a fetal position,
burying her head under her pillow.

CUT TO:

EXT. SAM'S APARTMENT BUILDING - LATER

Sam's little green car pulls around to the side of the
building, maneuvering into an empty space. Sam gets out and
starts to walk towards the main street; but before she can
get there, Reyanna steps out from a niche in the wall.

SAM
Reyanna? Hey.

Reyanna looks nervous. Actually, she looks scared to death.

REYANNA
I really need to talk. Can we
talk? Inside?

SAM
Uhhh...yeah, sure.

Sam leads Reyanna towards the front of the building.

CUT TO:

INT SAM'S APARTMENT - MOMENTS LATER

The door opens and Sam shows Reyanna in. Reyanna still looks
like a gazelle surrounded by lions, and Sam—a little unnerved
herself by this time—leads her to the bed and sits her down.
Sam sits beside her.

SAM
This is about Jaycee, isn't it?

REYANNA
She made me swear not to say
anything, but...

SAM
It's okya, Reyanna...

REYANNA
Oh, no. It's not okay. They could
get me. They could get YOU.

SAM
Wait, who's "they"? You mean
Jaycee really does know who beat
her up?

REYANNA
Well, no, but she knows Ricky sent
them.

SAM
Who's Ricky?

Reyanna looks at Sam as though she'd just asked who the
President was.

REYANNA
Ricky Manzetti.

SAM
(laughing awkwardly)
Jeez, what is this, "The Sopranos"?

Reyanna hushes her, as if he could hear.

REYANNA
It's not a joke! What he did to
Jaycee, that was just a warning.

SAM
Okay, this Ricky guy, he's
Jaycee's...supplier?

Reyanna nods.

SAM (CONT'D)
(guessing)
And she owes him money?

REYANNA
(emphatically)
Oh, she's into him big time.

SAM
A lot?

Another nod.

SAM (CONT'D)
How much?

Reyanna actually scoots away from Sam a bit, as though the
subject were contagious.

REYANNA
You don't wanna know, really—

Sam catches her hand.

SAM
(insistent)
How much?

Reyanna turns away, her face hidden in her long blonde hair;
but Sam can still hear her answer:

REYANNA
Twelve thousand.

Sam's eyes go wide and her mouth drops. In a sudden reversal,
Reyanna crowds against her, clutching at her like a lifeline.

REYANNA (CONT'D)
I'm scared, Sam. If Jaycee can't
come up with the money...

Sam puts an arm around Reyanna's shoulder.

SAM
I don't think that this guy will go
around beating up everyone Jaycee
knows.

Reyanna looks up at her with big, frightened eyes.

REYANNA
He might.

Sam takes a moment to think.

SAM
Okay...this Ricky, he wants his
money, right? And he knows Jaycee
can't do anything while she's in
the hospital, right? So he's going
to wait until she's out before he
does anything else. So—I'm going
to drive you home, okay? You'll be
all right, trust me.

Reyanna doesn't look nearly as convinced, but she allows Sam
to pull her up and take her to the door. Sam reaches to open
the door and—

CUT TO:

EXT. MCQUEEN FRONT PORCH

Another door—the McQueens'—opens. Jane is standing in the
doorway.

JANE
Thank you so much for coming.

CUT TO:

INT. MCQUEEN LIVING ROOM - CONTINUOUS

As Jane steps aside and Osbourne walks in.

OSBOURNE
(greeting)
Mrs. McQueen, Mr. McQueen.

Mike comes forward.

MIKE
Brooke's in her room.

He holds out the letters.

MIKE (CONT'D)
These came today.

Osbourne takes the letters and scans them.

OSBOURNE
I find this rather difficult to
believe.

MIKE
Brooke's been on the honor roll six
straight semesters.

OSBOURNE
Possibly an error occured, the
wrong transcripts sent. It
happens, rarely. And it should be
correctible; there are procedures
for dealing with such things.

MIKE
Okay, fine, good. But Brooke—she
acted like she didn't even care.

JANE
No, that wasn't it. She was broken
up inside, I could tell. But she
wouldn't let it show.

MIKE
You have to understand, she's my
little girl. I just wanted to take
her up in my arms and make
everything better, and she wouldn't
even let me...

He sits on the sofa's armrest unsteadily, the picture of
misery.

MIKE
Does she really hate us...hate
ME...THAT much?

Osbourne shakes his head, not unkindly.

OSBOURNE
No, Mr. McQueen. Though given the
circumstances, Miss McQueen's
behavior is unsurprising.

JANE
Why?

OSBOURNE
I'm afraid I must begin with yet
another apology. In order to help
Miss McQueen understand her
difficulties with you, I
recommended a book on family
relationships. Unfortunately, she
decided to use the book's analysis
of teenage behavior as source
material...a strategy guide, so to
speak.

Despite the situation, a hint of a smile plays on Jane's lips.

JANE
Sounds like Brooke.
(pause)
But what did you mean by "given the
circumstances"?

OSBOURNE
Appearances to the contrary, I
believe Miss McQueen would very
much like a healthy relationship
with you.
(to Mike)
I'm sure she wanted nothing more
than to be comforted by you, Mr.
McQueen. She simply couldn't allow
herself to be.

MIKE
Why the hell not?

OSBOURNE
It would seem that she were backing
down because she couldn't deal with
the rejection letters. She can't
accept that. Her innate
stubbornness drives her to continue
playing the antagonist, regardless
of the emotional cost.

MIKE
(ruefully)
I guess we know where she gets THAT
from.

Jane goes to Mike and leans on him, arm around his shoulder.

JANE
Can you help?

OSBOURNE
Truthfully—I don't know. I can
attempt to talk to Miss McQueen,
of course.

Mike and Jane look at each other; then Jane nods for both of
them.

CUT TO:

INT. BROOKE'S BEDROOM - MOMENTS LATER

Brooke is still curled up on the bed; the only difference is
that she's buried herself under the covers.

There is a knock at the door. Brooke doesn't so much as move.
After a few seconds, there is a another knock.

OSBOURNE (O.S.)
(from behind the door)
Miss McQueen?

Brooke pokes her head out, glances at the door.

OSBOURNED (O.S.) (CONT'D)
It's Erick Osbourne.
(pause)
I'm alone. Please open the door.

Finally Brooke crawls out of bed, trudges to the door and
pulls it open. Osbourne is standing there, alone as promised.

BROOKE
What are you doing here?

Her eyes flick towards the stairs.

BROOKE (CONT'D)
(sullen)
THEY called you.

Osbourne flashes her a deadpan look.

OSBOURNE
Of course. Did you expect them to
do otherwise?

BROOKE
Yeah. I expected them to padlock
the door from the outside and call
the mental ward.

OSBOURNE
(chuckling)
I doubt they would resort to
something so...outlandish.

Brooke stares at him.

BROOKE
Have you not been paying attention
to the way they've been acting?

OSBOURNE
(shrugs)
Perhaps your father and stepmother
have learned that the brute force
approach can be counter-productive.

BROOKE
They didn't learn the first ten
times it didn't work.

Brooke steps to one side, silently inviting Osbourne in.
After he's inside, she closes the door behind him, then pulls
out the chair at her computer desk for him. She sits on the
edge of the bed.

BROOKE (CONT'D)
(trying for lightness)
Bet when you took this job, you
never thought you'd be sitting in
one of your female students'
bedrooms.

Osbourne takes a quick glance around.

OSBOURNE
I believe that would be a safe bet.
One must admit to the unlikely
nature of this scene.

BROOKE
(spreading her hands)
Welcome to my world.

A moment of awkward silence.

OSBOURNE
Well. You know why I'm here.

BROOKE
Because the parental units called
you?

OSBOURNE
I've seen the letters, Miss
McQueen.

The life goes out of Brooke.

BROOKE
Oh.

OSBOURNE
Needless to say, I am quite
concerned.

Brooke doesn't seem to know what to say; her arms flail
helplessly.

BROOKE
I...don't understand what happened.
I tried really hard... I only got
one C my whole life... I just...
don't...

Brooke finally breaks down, sobbing uncontrollably. Osbourne
feels moved to go and sit on the bed next to her, putting an
arm around her shoulder awkwardly, patting her as she cries
into his jacket.

OSBOURNE
There, there, Miss McQueen. I'm
certain that this is the result of
a simple mistake. It will be
remedied, I assure you.

BROOKE
(sniffling)
How come you never call me Brooke?

OSBOURNE
Pardon?

BROOKE
I'm always "Miss McQueen". Like
I'm just another student.

Osbourne looks down at Brooke, still resting her head on his
chest.

OSBOURNE
You're correct, I suppose. It's
merely a device, designed to
maintain a degree of separation.
(pause)
It does seem rather...absurd, just
now.

BROOKE
I'm sorry. I'm getting you all
wet.

OSBOURNE
Nonsense. It's a perfectly normal
reaction.

BROOKE
Bawling my eyes out all over is
normal?

OSBOURNE
Of course.
(pause)
But you are aware that I'm not the
person to whom you should be
"bawling your eyes out".

Brooke pulls away, closing in on herself.

BROOKE
(a whisper)
I can't.

OSBOURNE
You must. You cannot continue on
this path. Your father and
stepmother are acutely aware of the
damage they have caused. Their
relationship with Miss McPherson
may well be irreparable. They are
desperate not to lose you as well.

Brooke is shaking her head.

BROOKE
I don't know...

OSBOURNE
Please, Miss...Brooke. You must
try.

BROOKE
What if it doesn't work? What if
they're just as controlling with me
as they tried to be with Sam?

OSBOURNE
However it turns out, you will
never forgive yourself if you do
not make the attempt now.

Brooke mulls that over.

CUT TO:

INT. MCQUEEN LIVING ROOM - MOMENTS LATER

Mike and Jane are still waiting in the living room. They
watch with great trepidation as Osbourne guides Brooke down
the stairs, waiting a discreet distance away, afraid to come
too close. Osbourne brings Brooke to within a few feet—there
she stops, glancing back and forth between him and Mike.
Osbourne nods encouragingly and gently prods her forward,
while Mike holds his arms open, inviting her in. Brooke takes
one hesitant step—then breaks and runs into her father's
arms. He hugs her tightly; with his arms wrapped securely
around her, she starts to cry again.

MIKE
(patting her hair)
Shhh...Daddy's going to make it all
right...

Osbourne takes a step back, towards the front door.

OSBOURNE
I believe I should leave you alone
now—

Brooke turns in Mike's arms.

BROOKE
No! I don't want you to go.

JANE
It's all right. Please stay.

MIKE
(to Brooke)
Come on. Let's sit down and talk.

Mike walks Brooke over to the sofa and sits her down. He and
Jane sit on either side of her, while Osbourne remains on his
feet, a few feet away. Mike gives Brooke a handkerchief; she
dries her eyes.

JANE
Honey, your father and I have
talked aobut this at length, and
we think we've come up with
something that will make everybody
happy.

MIKE
The deal is this: we stop treating
you like a child, and you stop
treating us like parents.

BROOKE
I'm sorry, what?

MIKE
I said, we stop treating you—

BROOKE
(interrupting)
Yeah, what do you mean, treating
you like parents?

MIKE
For instance, this "Stepford girl"
routine you've been pulling around
here. You know you wouldn't act
that way towards anyone else. You
only do it around us because we're
your parents.

JANE
We're just saying we want you to
treat us the same way you would any
other adult. And we'll do the same
for you.

MIKE
What we want is to be three adult
individuals sharing a household.
It's that simple.

BROOKE
It can't POSSIBLY be that simple.

JANE
(sigh)
At least it's a place to start.
Please, Brooke, can't we just try?

Brooke looks back and forth between them, clearly wanting to
be convinced, but still holding back.

MIKE
I'll learn to let go. I promise.

Brooke curls her hand around his.

BROOKE
You don't have to...you know...let
go all the way.

There are expressions of relief all around as the tension
breaks, and Mike and Jane hug Brooke around her shoulders.
Her eyes to Osbourne.

BROOKE (CONT'D)
(to Osbourne)
Thank you.

JANE
That goes for us too.

OSBOURNE
This bodes well, I think. Of
course I'll look into the matter of
Miss McQueen's records immediately.

He starts to turn, but Mike stops him.

MIKE
Mr. Osbourne—wait. Before you go,
there's something else we need your
help with.

He looks at Brooke.

MIKE (CONT'D)
(to Brooke)
Your help, too.

JANE
Sam.

BROOKE
(snorts)
You want my help with Sam?

MIKE
(to Brooke and Osbourne)
I know our last try at this didn't
go very well, but we're ready to
listen now.

BROOKE
I don't know why you'd want to
listen to me. I was the one with
the bright idea that Lily and
Carmen could talk Sam out of
popping pills.

JANE
We know your intentions were good,
honey.
(to Osbourne)
Please, won't you sit down and
bring us up to date?

OSBOURNE
I'll assist in any way I can, of
course, Mrs. McQueen.

So Osbourne sits down across from Jane, Brooke and Mike, who
are—at least for the moment—a functional family again.

FADE OUT.

END OF ACT THREE