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Episode No. 21 - Snapshots

written by E.R. Holdridge (Shobi)

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About this story

Published: 31 Jul 1997 | Size: 91 KB (16571 words) | Language: english | Rating: PG-13
Average: 4.7/5   4.7/5 (56 votes)

based on stories and characters created by Winnie Holzman

Black Screen-- "Five Days Later"


Angela is looking in the mirror. Tucked in the corner of the mirror is the award-winning photograph of herself that Brian took. This is the first time we see it. It still has the crease in it. The photo is a "head & shoulders" shot of Angela in front of one of the school's windows. The noon-time sun is blazing in the window behind her, illuminating her hair. She is standing facing one way, with her head turned to look over her shoulder, apparently catching sight of someone. She is smiling her fullest smile, the one full of hope and anticipation, the one reserved almost exclusively for Jordan Catalano. Angela is busy trying out smiles for the mirror, and then hesitantly checking them against the photo. She is not very successful at duplicating the smile.

ANGELA: (VO) I remember the day this must have been taken. It was the day after I had one of my seemingly countless fights with Jordan Catalano. A mere weekend since I had gone to see Buffalo Tom. A few minutes after I took my Geometry midterm, which I only passed thanks to Abyssinia Churchill. And most importantly, not twenty-four hours since Jordan had proven that it didn't make him, like, physically ill to be nice to me in public.

She attempts a few more smiles, failing.

ANGELA: (VO) It's funny. I don't remember even *seeing* Brian Krakow that week, much less him taking that picture. I know he's yearbook photographer, but I guess I never really thought of *looking* at his pictures. I can totally imagine him being good at it in a technically proficient way--I mean, that's what the yearbook needs, people who don't waste film, cut off heads or overexpose--but I guess I never even considered, like, the possibility that he would be so. . . perceptive. (pause) Unfortunately, even though I can remember that day, and I remember how thrilled and in love I was with Jordan and with life at that moment, I can't actually bring myself to feel that way right now. I figure if I can just smile that way again, it will all come back to me, and I can be in that place I was in. It would be even better than that day, if I could, because now I know--I mean, I think, that Jordan feels the same way too.

Trying another smile, a particularly lame attempt.

ANGELA: (VO) If I could just smile like that, maybe I could be like that again--happy with myself, surrounded by *trusted* friends, and in love. I could *be* the Angela in that picture. . .

One last smile that is very fake and false, with way too much wattage.

ANGELA: (VO) (frowning at her image) . . . or, I could just turn into my mother.

PATTY: (OS) Angela? Get a move on!

Angela sighs and gets up from her dressing table. She returns momentarily to snatch the photo out of the mirror frame and tuck it in the oversized pocket of her faded overalls.


Patty is doing her typical "1,000-things-to-do" dance around the area, trying to get the girls moving and herself ready for work. Graham looks much calmer, and is still in sweats and his bathrobe. Danielle is munching on a bagel.

PATTY: Graham, do you think you'll have time to clean up the house a little today?

GRAHAM: (looking up from the paper, eyeing Patty critically) One--Not really. Two--Since when is just a "little" cleaning enough to satisfy you?

PATTY: (looking at calendar on wall) Since I've accepted the idea that there are only 24 hours in a day. (looks at him) Why not? What are you going to be doing?

GRAHAM: I'm meeting with Hallie. We still haven't come up with a name yet, and we need to decide soon.

PATTY: (skeptical) Isn't that a little premature?

GRAHAM: Why? (Angela walks in) Morning, honey.

ANGELA: (to all) Morning. (grabs an apple, takes a bite)

PATTY: Well, you haven't even decided on the full menu yet. Isn't the name going to reflect the type of restaurant it's going to be?

DANIELLE: (looking in her lunch bag) Do you want me to be anorexic?

GRAHAM: (to Danielle) What? (to Patty) I don't think so. I think Hallie wants it to be more metaphorical than literal.

DANIELLE: Don't I get dessert?

PATTY: (reaching for "Little Debbie"-type box in cabinet, cattily) Does Hallie realize that you're opening a restaurant and not a theme park? (hands Danielle her dessert) Here sweetie.

GRAHAM: (shortly) I'm sure she does. Why this urgent need to clean the house?

PATTY: (sighing) You know that we're updating our Home-Owners insurance. The insurance appraiser is coming out to take some pictures tomorrow.

Patty turns her attention to the girls, who notice her scrutiny and begin to avoid eye contact.

ANGELA: (VO) I think in a former life my mother was, like, an interrogation expert at a P.O.W. camp, or something.

PATTY: (using her best guilt-inducing voice) How about you two? Can one of you find some time in your busy schedules to clean up around here this afternoon?

ANGELA: (quickly) I can't. I promised Rickie I'd help him with the Our Town sets after school.

DANIELLE: And *I'm* having another saxophone lesson.

PATTY: Fine, fine. I'll just do it when I get home (under her breath) along with everything else. (louder again) Get going, you two.

Good-byes are said. Bags and lunches are grabbed. The bustling finally stops. Patty looks at Graham, gives her head a shake, as if to shake away angry thoughts, and moves over to Graham and gets him in an embrace.

PATTY: So, these lessons. Should we be worried that no one will be home with Danielle but Brian?

GRAHAM: Well, Brian really is a responsible kid.

PATTY: (surprised) Actually, I'm more afraid of what Danielle might do to *Brian*.

GRAHAM: You don't mean. . .

PATTY: (laughing softly) No. I mean that Brian can barely look at Angela without becoming all tongue tied and klutzy. If Danielle actually flirts with him, even innocently, I'm afraid he'll. . . bend his flute or something.

GRAHAM: (perplexed again) You think Danielle has a crush on Brian? And I thought he played the saxophone? And what about this Ryan kid?

PATTY: (rolling her eyes at his naivete) Of course she does. And he plays both. Danielle informs me that Brian is multi-talented. And *Ryan* is just a fifth-grader. Keep up with me, here, Graham. (she breaks free of the embrace) Another thing, have you offered to pay Brian for giving Danielle lessons?

GRAHAM: No. Why?

PATTY: Well she is basically getting private lessons that we would have to pay for if she were getting them anywhere else. I think you should offer to pay him.

GRAHAM: Why? I don't think he minds doing it for free. I mean, I don't think he *expects* to be paid. . .

PATTY: Of course he doesn't. It is Brian Krakow, after all. (knowingly) But I just said you should *offer* to pay him. (grabbing her briefcase) He won't accept. But it's the right thing to do and it will make him feel good. And then you can just invite him to dinner or something.

GRAHAM: Wouldn't that make Angela uncomfortable?

PATTY: I don't think so. Besides, he's a friend to Danielle and this family, too.

GRAHAM: I'll just check with Angela first.

PATTY: (coldly) Fine. (leaving) Have a good. . . meeting. . .with Hallie. Good luck deciding on a name.

GRAHAM: Thanks. Have a good day at work. And Patty?


GRAHAM: We can tackle cleaning the house after supper--together.

PATTY: (little smile) Sure.

Patty closes the back door behind her. Graham watches and then slowly leaves the kitchen.


Sharon is at her locker, looking at her makeup in a compact. Rayanne is leaning on the locker "next door" twirling her hair and looking at Sharon critically.

RAYANNE: Have you ever thought of wearing something, like, *other* than pink?

SHARON: (head cocked to one side, skeptical look) Like what? Black?

RAYANNE: (excited, pointing) Yes! If we could just get you into something tight and black and get some black lipstick on you. . .

SHARON: Somehow I don't think that would go over very well at home.

RAYANNE: (looking past Sharon, seeing someone) And, (girlish) *Kyle* might not like it! Then maybe you wouldn't have to come clean with him.

SHARON: (thinking) I never thought of that. Kyle *would* hate that. . .

Kyle comes up behind Sharon as she is talking, Rayanne smiles and raises an eyebrow at Sharon.

KYLE: (hugging Sharon from behind) What would I hate?

SHARON: Nothing, I. . .

RAYANNE: Sharon is thinking of dyeing her hair. Black.

KYLE: You are? Why? I have to say I really like your hair the way it is.

SHARON: (glaring at Rayanne) I was really just thinking aloud. I wouldn't do something like that.

KYLE: Oh. (brightly--as if announcing good news) Well, they finally came.

RAYANNE: That's gross.

KYLE: (annoyed) What? (getting it) Shut up, Graf! Could we have a moment?

RAYANNE: (throwing her hands up) Sure. No skin off my. . .

SHARON: Rayanne. (gives Rayanne a "spare me" look)

RAYANNE: Sorry. (reassuring Sharon) I won't go far.

Rayanne goes a few feet away and watches them unabashedly.

KYLE: Anyway. The pictures finally came. You know, the ones they messed up the first time. (Sharon gives him an empty look) You know, the ones from the World Happiness Dance?

SHARON: (fake smile and nod) Right! Of course.

KYLE: I forgot them in my locker. But we can divide them up later. You know, for our families and friends and whatever.


While Sharon smiles politely and nods, the camera pans back to Rayanne, amused at her discomfort. It then pulls further back to reveal Corey Helfrick, beret, painted shoes, black frames, and all. He is staring at Rayanne as he walks toward her. Rayanne feels his gaze on her and slowly turns her head, by the time it gets all the way around, he is very close to her, and she jumps perceptibly when she sees him.

COREY: (smiling) Hey.

RAYANNE: (raised eyebrow, not smiling) Hey. Gotta go. (turns back to Sharon)

KYLE: . . . really missed you the last few days. It's like you're avoiding me. Again.

SHARON: No, Kyle, it's just that. . .(trails off, shoots Rayanne a "save me" look)

RAYANNE: (scooting away from Corey, who follows her with his eyes, disappointed) Sharon? I, like, need your help. In the bathroom. Now.

KYLE: Her help?

RAYANNE: (giving him a piercing look) Yes. Y'know, cramps, bloating, protection with wings? *That* sort of thing?

SHARON: Oh? Oh, right. (holding in her amusement) I'll see you later Kyle.

KYLE: (looks perplexed again) Sure.

Sharon and Rayanne speed off in the direction of the bathroom and manage to get around the corner before Rayanne makes an audible derisive snort, and Sharon begins to giggle. Kyle adjusts his letter jacket, gives Corey an odd look and walks off.


Sharon and Rayanne in the girls' bathroom in front of the mirror.

SHARON: Thanks for the save. Who was that guy you were talking to?

RAYANNE: Corey Helfrick. He's been my shadow for months. I thought I got rid of him when I blew him off at that dance--but no such luck. He did paint my shoes pretty well, though. (doing a little dance step as if to show them off)

SHARON: He's sort of cute, in a quirky way. Why don't you like him?

RAYANNE: He is *way* too earnest for my taste. He's probably the type that would want to (she shudders) "go steady" or something.

SHARON: Going steady isn't that bad.

RAYANNE: Yeah, right. (getting up in Sharon's face) Until you want *out* that is, right? When you're tired of your boy toy?

SHARON: Don't call him that. I'm going to tell Kyle. Today. I just hope that he doesn't take it too badly. He seriously, like, loves me or something.

RAYANNE: (wagging her finger at Sharon) Must be all that pink. (snatching Sharon's mascara) He'll be fine. Just tell him to get lost in one breath and that he was the best you've ever had in the next--see which one he focuses on.

SHARON: Kyle's the *only* one I've ever had.

RAYANNE: Even better. (brightly) That way it won't be a lie. Like it *usually* is.

SHARON: I hate myself for doing this to him. . . so that's why you're avoiding Corey Helfrick? So you don't have to end up doing this, like, to him?

RAYANNE: Well, that, and the fact that I really don't want to make a habit of sleeping with people my best friends *say* that they are totally over, but are really still hung up on.

SHARON: Who? Not Angela.

RAYANNE: No! Duh! Rickie.

SHARON: (trying not to look concerned) But I thought Rickie was going out with Delia Fisher?

RAYANNE: In a way, maybe. Not the same way he'd like to go out with Corey, though. I mean I haven't really talked to him about Delia, or anything. But she just seems like a replacement for me. (blank stare) Y'know some girl to hang with. But better than me, because Delia doesn't come with . . . a self-destruct mechanism.

SHARON: (full-blown concern) I wonder if Delia knows this?

RAYANNE: (dancing that line between sarcasm and spite) I don't know. But maybe you can take this on as another little project to meddle in. To make up for what you did to her and Krakow. Making her think he was interested when he wasn't. Maybe you can make her think Rickie isn't interested even if he is--just a little. Maybe that way you can keep yourself preoccupied from your own mess--with Kyle. (looking away) Or maybe none of this is any of my business?

SHARON: (digesting) No, no, it is. Sometimes everyone needs some pointing in the direction of the truth--y'know, from a friend. (smiles) Even me.

RAYANNE: (peace offering) Well, it shouldn't be that bad. I mean, with Kyle. I've broken up with a *lot* of guys, and they seem to take the idea of being used for sex much better than most girls I know.

SHARON: No offense. But the guys you. . . date maybe don't care if you dump on them because they're just. . . using you too.

RAYANNE: (purses lips) Maybe. They sure don't tell me that they love me in front of a stranger in an A/V room. But then, I can't imagine what I'd do if they did.

SHARON: And maybe *that's* the real reason you avoid boys like Corey Helfrick.

RAYANNE: (nodding, eyes wide, with faked appreciation) Oh, so the truth is *that* way, huh, friend? (pointing off toward the corner)

Sharon smiles at her and Rayanne breaks off the false front. She silently hands Sharon back her make-up wand and twirls toward the door.

RAYANNE: I gotta get to class.

SHARON: Since when do *you* care about going to class?

RAYANNE: Since Katimski informed me that if I don't keep at least a "C" average this semester I get booted from the play. Since when *don't* you?

SHARON: (ashamed to admit it) Since Kyle is in my next class. I think I better go see the nurse. These cramps of yours must be contagious.

RAYANNE: (smiling as she exits) You're learning, Grasshopper, you're learning.


Angela is sitting at a table with Rickie and Delia.

RICKIE: And so Mr. Katimski talked to Ms. Krzyzanowski and she says that a spot won't be opening up in Pride House for longer than she thought. Like, maybe not 'til the end of school.

ANGELA: (sympathetic) I'm really sorry.

DELIA: (almost as if competing to show more sympathy) Me too.

RICKIE: It's okay, you two. Really. I mean, I'm actually kind of glad. I've just gotten settled in at Katimski's, and he and Joseph are both so great. I guess I'm not ready to move somewhere *new* again just yet.

ANGELA: That's great.

DELIA: (brightly) Yeah, and that way we'll still be neighbors for awhile yet. It's fun, y'know (giggle) having someone nearby?

RICKIE: (nods, smiles) I know. (changing subject) So, are you still going to come with me tomorrow night to the play?

DELIA: Sure! I can't wait.

ANGELA: (casually) What play?

DELIA: (excited) They're having this revival of The Crucible downtown. . .

RICKIE: (continuing) Except that instead of being set in Colonial Salem. . .

DELIA: (finishing) It's set in the Midwest in the McCarthy era of the 1950's.

RICKIE: (explaining) Mr. Katimski knows the director, and he got us tickets. So we're going to go.

ANGELA: That sounds like fun. I mean, maybe I could go with you. (realizing something) Unless, I mean, unless this is like, a date or whatever--I mean, I wouldn't want to get in the way.

Delia just looks at Rickie. Rickie clearly doesn't know what to say.

RICKIE: Well, Mr. Katimski did get two extra tickets. And he and Joseph are going on Saturday, so I guess you could come along and you could invite. . .

Rickie looks at the two girls looking at him expectantly from the other side of the lunch table.

RICKIE: I mean, you could (hazarding a guess) ask Jordan to come.

Delia looks at Angela, who frowns.

ANGELA: I don't think that's his type of thing.

RICKIE: Or maybe Brian?

Delia's normally open face sours into an expression generally reserved for very strong, very foul odors. Angela looks contemplative, but before she can speak. . .

RICKIE: Or how about Rayanne? She's very into theater right now.

Delia and Angela's expressions have switched, almost perfectly.

RICKIE: Or, I guess it would be out of line not to at least ask. . . Sharon, y'know, first, or what have you.

Both of the girls smile and manage to nod. Rickie looks unbelievably relieved and sighs, with exaggerated exhaustion.

ANGELA: Well, I gotta go, but thanks you guys. I'll ask my parents to make sure it's okay and call you tonight.

DELIA: (getting up as well) And I'll mention it to Sharon next period.

RICKIE: (smiling) Great. See ya.

The two girls leave, and Rickie just shakes his head. Mr. Katimski wanders into the lunch room and looks for Rickie. He comes over and sits down across from him.

KATIMSKI: Hello, Enrique. How is everything?

RICKIE: Fine. I think I finally know what that one part of The Odyssey was about now, you know, with all the shouting you had us do? The sea monsters?

KATIMSKI: (nodding) Aah! You mean Scylla and Charybdis?

RICKIE: Exactly. And the, like, difficulty of dancing between them. Anyway, I was wondering, those extra tickets to The Crucible? Would it be all right if I asked two other people to come with me and Delia?

KATIMSKI: Of course, of course! Who's going?

RICKIE: Angela Chase. . .

KATIMSKI: Delightful girl.

RICKIE: And Sharon Cherski, I guess.

KATIMSKI: Oh, well I'm sure you'll all enjoy it very much. The practice I saw was superb. You should pay particular attention to the bold staging choices he uses. (laughs quietly to self, looks off to one side) Remarkable.

RICKIE: Well thanks again for the tickets. Was there something you came in here for? I mean, did you need to speak to me?

KATIMSKI: (absently) Gee, as a matter of fact, I did. You know, Joseph was saying something to me this morning--I know he wanted me to remember something, but for the life of me I can't remember what--(laughs) funny isn't it?

RICKIE: (smiles) He just said to remember to pick up the dry cleaning and to pick up some tuna fish on the way home, if you could.

KATIMSKI: Of course! (gives a little clap) Thank you! You are a life saver! (he gets up to go, after walking a few steps, he turns back to Rickie) Enrique?

RICKIE: (looks up) Yes?

KATIMSKI: You will. . . . . . . I mean. . . . . . remind me of that on the way home, won't you?

RICKIE: (chuckles softly, nods) Of course I will.

KATIMSKI: Aah. Good, good. See you at practice, remember, we're having the pictures taken for the program and the "lobby shots" today. Remind everyone!

Katimski just wanders off. Rickie looks after him with a smile on his face.


Graham is in the so-called restaurant. He is in the now almost fully equipped kitchen. Workmen periodically come through the door from the dining area, and when they do, we can see other craftsmen hard at work all around the fountain, and even one in the fountain (unfilled of course) , polishing the bronze. Graham is cooking something, and looks happy. He may even be humming softly to himself. Hallie Lowenthal bustles in the back entrance, arms loaded with purse, briefcase, papers, and a notebook computer. Her hair is pleasantly askew. Graham smiles.

HALLIE: (noticing his smile turn into a smirk, plopping her things down on a counter) What? (outraged) What?

GRAHAM: Nothing.

HALLIE: Good. (smiling) I was *dreading* another comment about my promptness.

GRAHAM: Or lack thereof.

HALLIE: Drop it, okay, I've got news.

GRAHAM: Good news?

HALLIE: Astounding, earth-shattering, better than chocolate or sex--but not quite better than chocolate AND sex--news. Our restaurant. . . is going to be featured in the Sunday Magazine section of the (triumphantly) Pittsburgh Sentinel.

GRAHAM: You mean our restaurant with no name?

HALLIE: Who cares, by the time the story will come out we will have a name, and better than that, we will have a buttload of free publicity to boot . . .

GRAHAM: What a charming mental image.

HALLIE: Shut up! Isn't this great?

GRAHAM: It sure sounds great, how did this even happen?

HALLIE: Well, (laughing, skipping over to him) It seems that one of the investors mentioned the fact of our little restaurant to his friend the newspaper magnate, and mentioned my name, and it also happens that I had actually met this man at one of Brad's parents' stultifyingly dull dinner parties, and this man and his wife--who to their credit actually had a pulse--remembered me fondly and wanted the paper to check us out. Despite the fact that I'm sure Brad's Mom has already sent around a memo to the rest of the crusty upper crust--(imitating a pretentious sounding woman) "TO: the upper class FROM: a total snob RE: the demise of my son's engagement to that thoroughly inappropriate young woman." (laughing, and slapping her hand on his arm to emphasize her words) Well, despite (slap) that (slap) fact (slap), we're going to be *huge*! (afterthought slap, laughing)

GRAHAM: (overwhelmed as usual) Great!

HALLIE: (settling down) Anyway, the photographer and reporter will be here tomorrow for the first part.

GRAHAM: (alarmed) What? You've got to be kidding!

HALLIE: No. The story is going to be full length, following the restaurant from conception to opening night. They're going to get before pictures tomorrow, you know, with the workers, and after photos later.

GRAHAM: But what about a name?

HALLIE: They can just fill that in later, or the brainstorming for names can be part of the article--who knows, maybe the lifestyles reporter will have some good ideas--or at least know which names are already taken.

GRAHAM: But we don't even have the full menu figured out yet! I mean, Patty thinks that we need to figure that out first--y'know before we think of a name. So they can be related.

HALLIE: (rolls her eyes) I'm sure she does. Tell me, I bet Patty also eats the different foods on her plate in equal amounts in a clockwise fashion. . .

GRAHAM: (warning) Hallie.

HALLIE: And never skips ahead to the last page of the book to see how it ends. . .

GRAHAM: (almost laughing) Hallie.

HALLIE: And has a real problem sitting still if someone has rearranged her knickknacks. Am I right?

GRAHAM: (as if speaking to Danielle about teasing Angela) That's enough.

HALLIE: Aren't I right?

GRAHAM: At least 75% right (nodding).

HALLIE: See. I can read people. I have this *theory* about Patty.

GRAHAM: I'm almost afraid to ask.

HALLIE: I think she forgets how alike we are. She and I both took the same business classes, heard all the same rules of how successful businesses are supposed to be. We're coming from the same place--she's right in a way, but I have learned to trust my instincts and she still questions hers, like if it's not in a book, it's not real. But I am doing what she said, just jumping ahead of her--I mean, what things do we know are going to be on the menu?

GRAHAM: Quite a few rich butter and sauce based dishes (thinking) and a souffle or two. . . and of course my pastries, the tortes especially.

HALLIE: Exactly, all this rich, decadent food. A name describing the food will just work against it--what'll we call it "The Heartstopper's Club," or "The Clogged Artery?" No, it tells you too much. And just using a name like "Chase's Place" is too boring--it doesn't say enough. So we need a name describing the dining experience as just that, an *experience*.

GRAHAM: But you just haven't figured out how to do that yet?

HALLIE: (hating that he's right) No. That's where it all falls down, I'm afraid. (recovering) But we *will* figure it out, you'll see.

GRAHAM: (relenting, captured by her enthusiasm) So they'll be taking pictures tomorrow, huh?

HALLIE: Yes. So be sure to dress nicely. And bring that chef's jacket and the little hat for an "at the stove" shot. But wear a suit too, for the "business partner" shot.

GRAHAM: Why are we having our pictures taken tomorrow?

HALLIE: Because they want them for the story.

GRAHAM: And why not when they come back to view the finished product?

HALLIE: (laughing) My idea. It'll be more of a contrast, us against the unfinished work, looking happy and confident. (turning away slightly) Besides, who knows what we'll look like in a couple months. I mean, I could balloon up like a pig from your hideously rich cooking. Or, you could get hit by a bus and get scarred for life.

GRAHAM: (playfully) Or you could grow a hump and walk with a limp.

HALLIE: (rising to the bait) Or you could lose even more hair.

GRAHAM: (angry) Okay, that's it. You can cast aspersions on my wife and on my cooking, but (mock hurt) leave my hair out of this!

HALLIE: (laughs, pointing at him, wagging her finger) Just dress up! And think of a name, and maybe I will.

GRAHAM: (smiling at her) Deal.


Jordan and Brian are hard at work in the tutoring room.

BRIAN: (in teaching mode) So if you can just finish diagraming all these sentences, like by tomorrow, we can go over them.

JORDAN: Okay. (looking the worksheet over) Hey, these sentences are about me, and Tino, and the band.

BRIAN: (nodding) Yes--I mean, yeah, they're from the story you told me about how Tino quit and Rayanne joined, for a minute, so. . .

JORDAN: These are depressing. (tossing them on desk) They just remind me that we don't have a lead singer anymore.

BRIAN: I don't see why you even need another. . . (Jordan is looking at him) Never mind, I don't really know anything about it.

JORDAN: No, what? I mean, you're in band, or whatever.

BRIAN: Sure, but Mr. Jacobson says that even though my fingering is perfect. . .

Jordan smirks at this but Brian doesn't notice and wouldn't get it even if he did.

BRIAN: . . . my actual playing has no depth, or soul, or whatever.

JORDAN: But you were saying?

BRIAN: I mean, when I saw you play at Vertigo, you seemed really good. And when Rayanne freaked out and you took over singing. . . I mean, I've never even met Tino, much less heard him sing, but you were pretty good. I mean, why couldn't *you* just do the singing? (he looks nervous, and not confident about his opinion)

Jordan leans back in the desk, and puts his hand up to his mouth--he has clearly not considered this as an option. As they sit there in silence, Angela walks in and comes up to them. She plays with her hair nervously.

ANGELA: (VO) Even though it's my fault that Jordan is being tutored at all, and even though this arrangement, at least indirectly, caused me to get the letter that is probably the best thing that has ever happened to me, and helped me understand both Jordan and Brian better than I ever did, the very idea that they sit here together every day, probably discussing me, makes me want to run and hide.

(spoken aloud) Hey.

JORDAN & BRIAN: (both giving her their undivided attention) Hey.

ANGELA: (grasping a bit) How's the tutoring going?

JORDAN: Fine. Brain is a slave-driver though.

ANGELA: I believe it. (shoots Brian a pleading look)

BRIAN: (catching it, grabbing his books) Well, I'll see you tomorrow. Remember to work out those problems, or we won't have much to do. I've got to go, Danielle will be waiting on her lesson.

As Brian walks by, Angela gives him a quick "thanks" smile and nod.

JORDAN: Who's Danielle?

ANGELA: My little sister. Brian's giving her saxophone lessons.

JORDAN: (smiles) Teaching her perfect fingering, huh?


JORDAN: Nothin'. I guess Brain likes teaching people. Maybe that's what he'll do.

ANGELA: I don't know, (confused by the direction of the conversation) Both of his parents are doctors, they put a lot of pressure on him, sometimes.

JORDAN: Really?

ANGELA: Yeah, I mean only his Dad has an actual medical degree, but his Mother has a Ph.D. They probably want him to be a rocket scientist, or something.

JORDAN: Maybe an astronaut.

ANGELA: (laughs) With his weak stomach? I somehow cannot picture Brian Krakow floating around in zero gravity--I think he, like, *needs* gravity, to reassure him, or something. (she unconsciously fingers the picture in her pocket as she grants Jordan a smile) I was just thinking, I mean, some of us are going downtown Wednesday night, y'know, tomorrow, to see The Crucible, and I was just wondering if you might like to go. With me.

JORDAN: I don't think so. I think the band's going to be practicing with the new singer tomorrow night. (gets up)

ANGELA: You have a new singer?

JORDAN: (happily) Yeah. Me. (starts to walk away) (turns back) You want a ride?

ANGELA: (smiles, thoughts of Rickie and Our Town sets forgotten) Sure.


DELIA: And so Sharon said that she would like to go, but she has plans with Kyle, it sounded pretty important. I bet it's something romantic.

RICKIE: I'll bet. Listen, Delia, I just wanted to make sure you're not mad that I said Angela could go with us.

DELIA: No. From what Rayanne said, she and I have something in common, (laughs) a healthy dislike of Brian Krakow.

RICKIE: Delia, it isn't really like that. But maybe you're right. Maybe you talking to Angela about this would help, in a way. Especially if she ends up inviting Brian now that Sharon can't go.

DELIA: Why, do you think she will?

RICKIE: She might. I told her that Sharon said that she couldn't go, and she said she would ask someone else, and then she went into the tutoring room. I mean since you and I are kind of going together, she should be able to bring someone who she can, y'know, focus on.

DELIA: (nodding) That's probably true.

KATIMSKI: (interrupting their conversation) Okay people, everyone gather around, so we can take the pictures for the program and the. . . uhm. . . lobby posters.

Students mill about and collect near Katimski, including Abyssinia Churchill. Rayanne walks over too, but stays near Rickie and Delia.

RAYANNE: So how long do you think this torture is going to take?

RICKIE: (pleasantly surprised) Rayanne, you're nervous, aren't you?

RAYANNE: Maybe a little. Who's taking the pictures anyway? Krakow?

DELIA: No, Corey's taking them.

RAYANNE: (alarmed) Why?

RICKIE: Katimski wanted there to be, like, a continuity of vision, and since Corey helped design the sets. . .

RAYANNE: (annoyed) A "continuity of vision"? Who talks like that?

RICKIE: Why do you even care? I thought you liked Corey. You let him paint your shoes, didn't you?

RAYANNE: Yeah, as a goof! I didn't know he was going to be pursuing me for the rest of the year as a result!

DELIA: Why don't you want him to pursue you? He's nice.

RAYANNE: Oh. (looking at Rickie) Well, I don't mix well with nice. (pointedly to Delia) That night I spent with Brian Krakow was a complete bust.

Delia fixes her with a look, her eyes narrowed, unsure whether Rayanne is kidding or not, and regardless, hating the fact that she feels a pang of jealousy.

RICKIE: (smiling) Stop it Rayanne. Nothing happened.

RAYANNE: (nodding) I know. *That's* why it was a bust.

KATIMSKI: (OS) All right, everyone, let's get the townspeople and the "audience" together for their group shot. Then the stage crew, and the leads individually.

DELIA: I guess that's me (she goes over to the big group)

RAYANNE: (coyly) So. . . Rickie, are you and Delia, like, a couple?

RICKIE: (smiles self-consciously) I don't know. I guess not really.

RAYANNE: Because there are things about you that might come as quite a shock for her later, once she gets past the. . . *novelty* of sharing eyeliner with you.

RICKIE: (tries not to laugh) You underestimate her. She knows. She asked me right to my face. (calmly, but with underlying sadness) It's more than you or Angela have ever done.

RAYANNE: (disliking the challenge) That's because it's none of our business! Besides, when the answer won't matter to our friendship, why ask the question?

RICKIE: I don't know, it just seems like maybe you'd rather not know. Like so you can have plausible deniability, or whatever.

RAYANNE: How could we want to know? I was never even sure that *you* knew for sure either, one way or the other.

RICKIE: I can see your point, I guess. (pause) Y'know, you don't have to avoid him--Corey. Not on my account.

RAYANNE: But what about. . .

RICKIE: I know. But it's pretty clear who he's interested in, and you shouldn't be treating him so mean. At least not unless you actually hate him, or something.

RAYANNE: No, I don't hate him. . . I just--I'm not looking for that type of relationship right now. I can't even keep up with this whole going to class, no drinking, good girl routine. I mean (long pause) I don't think I can handle any extra pressure.

RICKIE: (encouraging) That's okay. It's just something to keep in mind. He *is* cute.

RAYANNE: I thought you were over that?

RICKIE: I am. That doesn't mean I'm *blind*, or something.

KATIMSKI: (OS.) Okay, now the stage crew. . .

RICKIE: (turning to go, softly) Rayanne, I can tell you're really trying. I'm glad. I just hope you're doing it for the right reasons. . .

RAYANNE: What do you mean?

RICKIE: I mean, I hope you're doing it for *you*. (he leaves)

Shot of Corey taking pictures of the group of kids comprising the stage crew, several of them, like Delia, also have parts as the plants in the audience, calling out questions during the play. Rickie and Delia stand together. Awkwardly at first, then as Corey calls out things, like "loosen up" and "have fun" they all start acting out. Rickie yanks his neon tie up as if to choke himself with it, and Delia then grabs it and chews on it, like a dog with a leash. Rickie looks at her strangely and then begins to crack up. Corey calls out "Okay, last one" and they stop mugging, and Rickie puts his arm around Delia and she leans into him and Corey snaps the picture, catching them wide eyed and laughing.


Graham is working up a sweat vacuuming the living room. Even over the vacuum, however, we can hear the soothing strains of a saxophone played rather competently, followed soon thereafter by the same tune played in a much less proficient manner. Graham winces intermittently. After a few moments Angela comes in the front door, and Graham kills the vacuum.

GRAHAM: Hey there.

ANGELA: Hey. (hears the sax) Oh no, they're not still at it, are they?

GRAHAM: No, that's just the cat. She's in heat, you know.

ANGELA: (rolls her eyes at her Dad's lame joke) Then I'm going upstairs and play some music. Very loud.

GRAHAM: Angela, wait. I wanted to ask you something.

Angela waits on the landing of the stairs, leaning on the railing, expectantly.

GRAHAM: Your Mom and I were talking and we think we should do something for Brian in return for him giving Danielle lessons. Would you be all right with it if I invited him to dinner?

ANGELA: Of course I would. I mean, why wouldn't I?

GRAHAM: Well, you do seem to avoid Brian like the plague.

ANGELA: (offended a little) I do not. I mean, Dad, if I was avoiding Brian Krakow, I would have to say that I'm doing a horrible job of it, since he is here constantly, and I see him all the time.

GRAHAM: (throwing up arms for "no harm no foul") Okay. I just wanted to check with you first. No big deal.

A particularly bad note sounds. Angela grimaces and pounds up the stairs, Graham walks toward the back door.


Danielle and Brian are sitting side by side on a bench, in their coats, playing the saxophones. There is a space heater near their feet. Through the window on the door we see Graham approach and knock, but they are oblivious to him.

GRAHAM: (coming in, trying to be enthusiastic) Sounds great, you two. But I think that's enough for today.

DANIELLE: (whining automatically) Aww, Dad. . .

GRAHAM: No, I mean it. Your Mother and I will clean the rest of the house, but you and Angela *have* to clean your own rooms before the appraiser comes. (to Danielle) You tell her I said so. I have to talk to Brian for a minute.

Brian, who looks a bit pasty already, even for him, blanches even further and helps Danielle get things packed away. She gallops out.

GRAHAM: So, Brian. . .

BRIAN: (voice cracks) Yes sir?

GRAHAM: Mrs. Chase and I were talking, and we thought we should offer to pay you for helping Danielle with this. But we had no idea about the going rate, so. . .

BRIAN: (visibly relieved) Oh no, I couldn't possibly. . .

GRAHAM: (relenting instantly) Well, we weren't sure if we should have offered already, or what. . .

BRIAN: No, that's okay. I *like* giving her lessons. It's like a favor. Not even a favor, because she and I seem to get along pretty well. So, y'know, no problem.

GRAHAM: Okay. Well if you ever need a favor or something in return. Like if you want to come to dinner some night when your parents are out or something. . .

BRIAN: Sure. Thanks. (pause) I mean--actually--there is something you can do for me, I mean, if you have the time.

GRAHAM: (nodding) You name it.

BRIAN: Well, I have my driver's permit and everything, and my Dad said he can take me to take the driver's test on Saturday, but I haven't had a lot of practice behind the wheel, since, like, our "Behind the Wheel" classes at school. And we only got to drive for a few minutes each day. Anyway, I know I only have four days, but you can practice driving with anyone who has had a license long enough, so I was wondering if maybe you could practice with me this week.

GRAHAM: (clearly not expecting this) This Saturday? (Brian nods) I didn't even know you turned sixteen already.

BRIAN: Yeah, a couple weeks ago. (in explanation) We don't really make that big a deal about birthdays at my house.

GRAHAM: Oh. You want to drive the Bronco?

BRIAN: No, well, I mean *sure*, but we can just drive my car--what will be my car. My parents are giving me their old station wagon, y'know, so I don't have to ride my bike all over. That's what I'm going to take the test in.

GRAHAM: (amused) You mean that old one, with the wood paneling?

BRIAN: (embarrassed) Uh huh. Not exactly a flashy, fast red convertible. . . but dependable--in a functional and boring way. (afterthought) Kind of like me, I guess.

Brian punctuates his last comment with a shy smile, as if he is just kidding and he doesn't really feel that way about himself, but it is clear to both of them that he is not kidding.

GRAHAM: (smiling, cheering him up) Well that's better than Angela is going to get, I can tell you that much. You realize of course that once you get your license you're not going to have a moment's peace. Once everyone knows you have a car everyone will be asking for rides. Angela, Danielle, hell, Patty will probably even draft you to do errands for her.

Brian finally smiles at this. Graham smiles back with the glow of "it works every time" in his eye.

GRAHAM: So let's get going. I'll write Patty a quick note and meet you over at your house.

BRIAN: Right now? (packing up to go)

GRAHAM: No time like the present. Besides, we only have four days, and most importantly, I am out of shampoo and I need to go to the store anyway. (As Brian nods and heads out the door) It'll be nice to have someone chauffeur *me* around for a change.


Corey is taking pictures of Abyssinia. Most of the students have gone. Rayanne is still waiting for her picture to be taken. Mr. Katimski is still overseeing the process, and Rickie and Delia are waiting around too.

KATIMSKI: (looking at his watch) Okay that's enough for the Stage Manager. Oh, gee whiz, I really have to get going. I have to do something on the way home. . .

RICKIE: (when Katimski looks over at him hopefully) The dry cleaning.

KATIMSKI: Yes! Exactly. Corey can you finish up with Emily?

COREY: Sure, I can do Rayanne. (knowing that sounded bad) I mean, I can take care of her picture.

KATIMSKI: Good, good. You're riding with us, right Delia? (she nods) Do you need a ride Abyssinia?

ABYSSINIA: No. My boyfriend's picking me up.

KATIMSKI: Ah well. (sighing as if saying "young love--how cute") See you tomorrow then. Thanks again Corey. You're doing a wonderful job.

COREY: Thanks.

The other four wander off, leaving Corey staring at Rayanne.

RAYANNE: (also knowing it sounds bad and not caring) So, how do you want me?

COREY: (blushes) Why don't you stand up against the oak tree.

She does. He takes a few shots of her, but she does not smile. It is as if she is in character, as Emily, but at the end of the play.

COREY: (stops shooting) You're not smiling.

RAYANNE: (softly) I don't feel much like smiling lately.

COREY: Oh. (not knowing how to respond to that) So, how do you like your shoes?

RAYANNE: (looking down at them) They're cool. I guess I never thanked you.

COREY: Actually I was wondering if you wanted me to touch them up. They're getting kind of faded.

RAYANNE: (thinking) No. I kind of like them this way. They look. . .lived in.

COREY: Yeah. Cool. (pause) Have you heard about the cast party?

RAYANNE: (perking up, but not smiling) No. What about it?

COREY: I guess it's going to be after the last performance. At Katimski's. Rickie and Delia are already working on dance mix tapes for it and putting a menu together. (shaking his head and smiling at the thought) It's like they're putting more energy into planning the party than the play itself.

RAYANNE: What about you? You're putting in lot of work on this thing too. Are you going to be an artist or something?

COREY: That's the plan, I guess.

RAYANNE: (smiling, half to herself) "The plan?" And here I thought the plan was to "Take the Golden Anne, to the tan van. . ."

COREY: (interrupting) "And give it to Stan?"

RAYANNE: (stares, shocked) How do you know that? That's from Sesame Street!

COREY: I know. I still watch it a lot. With my brother, Jason.

RAYANNE: (odd look) Really. How old's your brother?

COREY: (looking down) He's thirteen. But he has Down's Syndrome. So he still learns things from it.

RAYANNE: (guilty) That's okay. I'm sixteen and I still learn things from it too.

COREY: (looks sort of relieved) He wouldn't watch for awhile after Mr. Hooper died, but lately he's been on this kick, and he likes me to watch with him.

RAYANNE: (nodding) I can relate. I wanted to stay home from school the day after that episode where they explained his death to Big Bird. (pause) Corey, about my shoes. . .


RAYANNE: They *are* pretty cool this way, but I was thinking that they would look even better if certain parts of the pattern were repainted to look newer, but the other parts still were faded. Could you do that without it bleeding?

COREY: Sure. (thinking) That would look different.

RAYANNE: Well, then. Mission accomplished.

COREY: (shyly) Rayanne?


COREY: Do you think you might want to come over some time and watch Sesame Street at my house? Jason would love to meet another fan.

RAYANNE: Sure. That'd be fun. (she looks surprised that he asked, but even more surprised that she accepted)

COREY: (really beaming) Cool.

RAYANNE: (softly) This conversation was brought to you by the number 8, the letter Z, and the word "cool."

COREY: What?

RAYANNE: Nothing.

Rayanne finally smiles back at him and turns her head slightly to the right. Corey snaps the picture.


Angela is in her room, which is still a hideous mess, with the stereo up loud, something fast and a little mean, like "Ladykillers" by Lush. Her schoolbooks are on her bed and she plops down on the bed on her chest, with her legs crooked up behind her, as if to study. She suddenly realizes that she is smashing the picture in her pocket even more. She contorts herself on the bed and reaches into her pocket to retrieve the picture. It is even more bent and mangled than it was. She frowns for a moment, but then smiles and jumps out of bed, turns off the CD player and heads out of her room, where she bumps directly into Danielle, who is carrying a wastebasket towards the stairs.

DANIELLE: (almost dropping it) Hey! Watch it!

ANGELA: (grabbing an edge of the wastebasket to make sure it does not fall) Sorry. Is Brian Krakow still here?

DANIELLE: (sour look) No. (yanking the wastebasket out of Angela's hands) He went driving with Dad. Aren't you supposed to be cleaning your room?

ANGELA: What? Why would he go driving with Dad?

DANIELLE: He has to practice for his test. He's going to get his license on Saturday. (superior voice) He has a car, you know.

ANGELA: No I didn't. How do *you* know?

DANIELLE: I listened at the door to him and Dad.

Angela scowls at her for eavesdropping.

DANIELLE: (defensive) Hey. It's the only way I find out anything in this house. What do you want him for anyway? (snotty) Your *bike* is here. Are you going to get him to clean your room or something?

ANGELA: Shut up. I just wanted to ask him something.

DANIELLE: (jealously) To go with you to that play tomorrow?

ANGELA: (giving her an odd look) No. How did you know about that anyway?

DANIELLE: (suddenly acting wide-eyed and innocent) I heard you and Rickie talking on the phone.

ANGELA: (appalled) Danielle!

DANIELLE: Do you like him, or something?

ANGELA: Who? Brian?

DANIELLE: Because I do. (pause) Do you think that four years difference is too many, y'know, (shifting back and forth) for a couple?

ANGELA: (smiling) Danielle, Brian is *five* years older than you.

DANIELLE: Right now. But I'll be twelve soon. So, is that too young?

ANGELA: (seriously) Danielle, you'll have a hard time even getting seventh and eighth graders to give you the time of day when you start at the Middle School, much less High School boys. (shaking her head) Besides, *why* would you want to date someone you've known your entire life?

DANIELLE: I don't know. (not quite accusing) Brian is nice.

ANGELA: (sighing) I know. He makes a good. . . friend. (flipping her hair behind her ear) But, don't you think that maybe Brian already likes someone his own age?

DANIELLE: (glaring at her coldly) No. Not anymore.

Danielle gives Angela a second to take this in and watches as Angela's expression collapses from the confident big sister dispensing advice to someone who has just been told that their favorite pet has died. Danielle turns on her heels and heads down the stairs with the wastebasket clutched to her chest. She has a self-satisfied smile on her face.


Brian is driving. He looks a little nervous and is sweating too much for the later winter temperature. Graham also looks nervous, clutching a plastic bag from Walgreens very tightly. Brian looks over at him and notices this, and then manages to look even worse, if that is possible.

BRIAN: What next?

GRAHAM: Just turn left up here. (Brian does this)

BRIAN: Where are we?

GRAHAM: Actually we're close to the restaurant I'm starting. Habit I guess.

BRIAN: (nodding) I heard about that.

GRAHAM: From Angela?

BRIAN: (shaking his head, watching the road) Rickie, I think. Or maybe Danielle.

GRAHAM: Well I'm getting my picture taken for a newspaper story tomorrow. I have to admit I'm a little nervous.

BRIAN: (nodding) That's understandable.

GRAHAM: Really?

BRIAN: Sure. I mean, it's your dream, right?

GRAHAM: Exactly. I mean, it's like I've been imagining this for years, and all of a sudden there's this possibility of it becoming real. . .

BRIAN: (nodding) And no matter what you do, succeed or fail, you're going to, like, *lose* the dream.

GRAHAM: (looks at Brian, almost with respect) Exactly.

BRIAN: (with hope) But maybe reality will be better than your dream. I mean, that's always possible, isn't it?

GRAHAM: Of course. (pause) We're not talking about my restaurant are we?

BRIAN: (smiles, embarrassed) Sure we are.

GRAHAM: (treading carefully so as not to embarrass him further) Y'know, Patty--Mrs. Chase--and I went to High School together. She wouldn't give me the time of day then. These things take time.

BRIAN: (nodding as if he understands) You mean learning to drive?

GRAHAM: (not sure if they are talking at cross purposes, or if Brian is actively trying to avoid the issue) Yes. Sometimes you just have to take it. . . slow.

BRIAN: So where to now?

GRAHAM: Let's head home.

BRIAN: Already?

GRAHAM: It's been about an hour. And I've seen enough. (claps him on the shoulder) You drive really well. I hope it's this easy with Angela.

Brian's chest puffs up with pride and he basks in Graham's attention.

GRAHAM: Of course, on the way home we could try to find a big hill and practice parallel parking.

BRIAN: (looks panicked) That's okay. (shyly) Thanks for the lesson. And the talk.

GRAHAM: Sure. I'm sure you'll pass the test. We can go out again on Thursday if you want, just so you feel comfortable with it.

BRIAN: Thanks. If you ever need any help with your restaurant. . .

GRAHAM: Well, we are trying to think of a name.

BRIAN: Oh. (thinking) Well, what's on the menu?

Graham groans and puts his head in his hands.


Sharon and Angela are walking together down the hall.

ANGELA: So why can't you come with us tonight? Y'know, to the play?

SHARON: I'm going with Kyle to the basketball game.

ANGELA: I thought the season was over.

SHARON: (sighing) So did I. But this is some sort of post-season tournament.

ANGELA: (snorts) Like Liberty has a chance.

SHARON: I know. But I have to go. (stopping in the middle of the hall) I think I'm going to break up with him tonight.

ANGELA: (surprised, retreating to where Sharon stopped) Why? I thought everything was good between you.

SHARON: (shaking her head) No. Kyle told me he loved me. In the A/V room.

ANGELA: (looks envious) That's sweet. Not the A/V room part, but the rest. Aren't you happy?

SHARON: No. Because I totally don't love him back.

ANGELA: Then why did you get back together with him?

SHARON: I don't know (almost growling at herself) I was lonely, and maybe a little needy.

ANGELA: (smiling) No offense, Sharon, but that doesn't sound much like you. It sounds more like me.

SHARON: Okay. (bluntly, Rayanne-esque) The truth is that I was horny.

ANGELA: (laughing, thinking it's a joke) Now you sound like Rayanne.

Sharon stops walking again. Looking at Angela's back, as if acknowledging the rift between them when it comes to sex, or Rayanne.

SHARON: (trotting to catch up) I saw you riding with Jordan Catalano yesterday.

ANGELA: (rolls eyes) Sharon, we are *not* together.

SHARON: You've been spending more time with him now then when you were together. And besides I thought you were back together last week.

ANGELA: Can we just drop this? It's a long story. I thought we were talking about you and Kyle?

SHARON: Well I have to break it off with him. I just have all this guilt. I feel like I'm leading him on, or something. *You* know what that's like.

ANGELA: (maybe offended) What do you mean by that?

SHARON: (realizing her faux pas, treading carefully) Well, I just mean it's like with you and Krakow. (deciding to foist it on Brian) How he follows you around and tries to make you feel guilty for not feeling the way he does.

ANGELA: (frowning) Brian doesn't--I mean, I--(shaking head) It's not the same.

SHARON: I know. Because you're honest with Brian. You're not pretending that you care, I mean, you make it *obvious* that you don't. That's why I have to be honest with Kyle.

ANGELA: Is that how I seem? I mean--I do care about Brian. In a way.

SHARON: Exactly. That's what I have to make Kyle understand.

They come to Angela's locker and stop. Angela works her combination.

SHARON: Angela, it's none of my business, but if you're talking to Jordan Catalano, then why aren't you talking to Rayanne? She's like your best friend.

ANGELA: (neutrally) You're right.

SHARON: (smiling in a patronizing way) Of course I am. Maybe you should ask her to come to the play, since I can't. . .

ANGELA: (slams her locker shut, to stop Sharon's chatter, glares at her) No. I meant you were right, that it *is* none of your business.

Angela walks away, leaving Sharon standing there with a shocked expression.


Hallie and Graham look fabulous. She is a dream, with her hair pulled up and cascading down around her face, and Graham looks more professional than we have ever seen him in a charcoal gray suit. They pose together in front of the kitchen equipment, smiling.

The next bit is a montage of shots of the store and some of the workers, working. Then a few with Graham in his chef's outfit slaving over a steaming pot of "food" which is really just boiling water. He smiles and mugs amiably for the camera.

Finally, back in his formal attire, Graham joins Hallie in the unfinished front of the store. They stand in front of a bare wall, with spots of spackle and primer visible in intermittent spots behind them. Graham leans back against the wall (remarkably imitative of Jordan's leanings) and crosses his arms. Hallie is on his left, her elbow propped up on his shoulder, leaning into him.

PHOTOGRAPHER: (OS) Okay, now look at each other.

They do. The moment is tense for a second, and they both stop smiling and smolder at one another until Hallie reaches over with her other hand and grips his nose tightly for a moment, then pulls back with her thumb sticking up between her fingers, in the old "I've got your nose" game. They both laugh and smile. Hallie changes the configuration of her fingers, crossing them, as if for luck, and lays her errant left arm across her chest as she smiles devilishly at Graham.


He snaps the scene, and the shot freezes on that moment and fades.


Brian and Jordan in the tutoring classroom. Brian is checking some of Jordan's work, but Brian looks ill, he is sweating and looks pale green.

BRIAN: These are basically pretty good. (pointing) Except that this is a prepositional phrase, and should be marked like this. (marks the paper)

JORDAN: (nodding slowly) Okay. Hey Brain, thanks for your advice yesterday. The band is totally together now, under the new name, with me singing.

BRIAN: (distractedly, not all there) So what's the new name?

JORDAN: Residue. Cool huh?

BRIAN: (nodding) Sure. Like you three are the residue left after Tino quit, right?

JORDAN: (struck by this notion, nodding) I never thought of that. (pause) That name works on so many levels. Anyway, we're having the first practice tonight. Angela invited me to some play thing, but Wednesday is one of the only nights that Joey doesn't have to work.

BRIAN: (Barely registering the news, even though it involves Angela basically asking Jordan out) Really? That's too bad. What play?

JORDAN: (shrugging lazily) I don't know. I think we talked about it in science class once, though.

BRIAN: (crinkles his brow, takes a deep breath) In science class?

JORDAN: Yeah. Anyway, thanks for listening, or whatever.

BRIAN: Sure. (Brian's chest shudders strangely, as if he is hiccoughing. He slaps one of his hands up to his mouth, abruptly stands and rushes over to the waist high garbage can and vomits noisily)

Jordan just smiles vaguely, barely reacting, as if this sort of thing happens all the time. The rest of the students in the room glare in Brian's general direction and look horrified. Brian, clutching his stomach, slowly returns to his desk.

BRIAN: (weakly) We have to cut this short. I've got to go.

JORDAN: Okay. You all right? You need a ride or something?

BRIAN: I rode my bike. I can't really leave it here.

JORDAN: (standing) It's okay. It fits in my trunk, remember?

BRIAN: Right. Okay. Thanks. (he grabs his stuff)

JORDAN: (on the way out the door, he grabs the liner inside the garbage can, pulls it out and ties it tight) We should probably throw this in the dumpster on the way out. It would start to stink.

BRIAN: (looks mortified) You're right. Thanks.

JORDAN: Sure. (they leave the room)


Angela is helping Rickie move sets. Delia and Corey are milling about as well.

ANGELA: (grunting as she helps heft the tree) So, I'm sorry I put you in that position yesterday, with Delia. I don't mean to be a third wheel.

RICKIE: You're not. The problem was in trying to find a fourth wheel that both you and Delia can stand. Did you ask anyone to go?

ANGELA: (sighs) Jordan.

RICKIE: (smiles) I thought this wasn't his kind of thing?

ANGELA: I know. It's like I can't help myself. Even after everything that's happened, I still think about him constantly.

RICKIE: There's nothing wrong with that. What did he say?

ANGELA: (sighs again) No. (brightly) But not because he didn't want to, he just had prior plans to practice with Residue. He's the lead singer now.

RICKIE: Really? Hmm. You could ask Rayanne. (gesturing across the stage)

ANGELA: (irritated) What is it with everybody today? Pushing me to invite Rayanne. We're not even speaking.

RICKIE: That's what I mean. It would be a nice peace offering.

ANGELA: Why should I make a peace offering to her?

RICKIE: It's been weeks, Angela. You made up with Jordan. He was there too, and then he pulled that letter thing, and still--instant forgiveness.

ANGELA: (almost angry) What do you mean, *instant*? I struggled with that decision. I'm still struggling with it. Besides, what Rayanne did was worse. She knew things I never told anyone. She *knew* how I felt, no matter what I said.

RICKIE: Well, are you *ever* going to forgive her?

ANGELA: (softly) I don't know. (pointing the finger) Besides, what about you? You're not exactly attached at the hip like you once were. At least I haven't replaced her with some bubble-headed, overweight imitation.

Rickie wheels around to face her, looking hurt.

ANGELA: (her anger draining) Sorry. I'm sorry. That was wrong. Delia's nice. (pause) It's just, I'm not ready to have her back in my life yet--Rayanne. And it's not even all about what happened with Jordan. That's just part of it. It started way before that. I just don't know how to watch her. . . (softly) how to sit there and watch her do those things to herself. That's what hurts, and Jordan is just a small part of that.

RICKIE: (sadly, nodding) I know.

He moves to Angela and they embrace. They part and each wipes their eyes.

ANGELA: Anyway, I think I'm going to invite Brian.

RICKIE: Oh? Okay. Just be aware that Delia *really* doesn't like him.

ANGELA: Why? Is she still angry about the dance? That was so long ago, I mean, when is she going to let that go?

RICKIE: (turns back to the scenery) I don't know. Maybe you should talk to her about it. You would know more about it than I do. That's something else you have in common with her.

ANGELA: What do *I* have in common with Delia Fisher?

RICKIE: Holding grudges, and being in denial about what Brian is really like.

ANGELA: (getting his point) Oh. Maybe you're right. So, should I just not invite Brian at all?

RICKIE: No, you should. As long as you don't mind that it will be sort of like a double date, and *your* date will be Brian.

ANGELA: (thinking) No. (smiles to self) I don't mind at all.

RICKIE: Well, then call him. (Angela nods once and wanders off, Rickie smiles his "isn't it romantic" smile to himself)


Angela is on a pay phone. She has one hand up to her free ear, so she can hear.


Brian is laying on the couch, covered in a blanket, in the unlit family room. Blue light flickers back and forth, making it apparent that the TV is on with the sound off. There is a metal pail with water in it on top of some spread-out newspapers on the floor. The cordless phone rings and he reaches over and picks it up.

BRIAN: Hello?

The screen cuts in half, with Angela on the left, and Brian on the right.

ANGELA: Hi, Brian? It's Angela.

BRIAN: (looks pleased, excited) Oh, hi.

ANGELA: Hi. Look Brian, I know this isn't very much notice, but I was wondering if you wanted to go to The Crucible with me tonight. Rickie and Delia Fisher are going too.

BRIAN: (light bulb going off) That's it, the crucible! *That's* what Jordan meant by science class!

ANGELA: (confused, pressing her hand harder against her ear) What?

BRIAN: Jordan just said that you invited him to some play he heard about in science class, and I was going crazy wracking my brain to think if there was a play called "Vivisection" or "Bunsen Burner" or something.

ANGELA: (smiling) Oh. So do you want to go?

BRIAN: (his excitement drains as he realizes the reality of the situation) I'd love to.

ANGELA: (excited) Great.

BRIAN: (finishing) But I can't. (Angela's smile crumbles) I mean, I feel horrible. I've been feeling sick for awhile, but today it really hit me. It must be my allergies or something.


BRIAN: (earnestly) I'm really, *really* sorry.

ANGELA: That's okay. (somewhat coldly) I mean, we just had this extra ticket, and Rickie thought you might like to go.

BRIAN: (feeling her attitude change) I really wish I could go. I mean, *thanks* for inviting me. Maybe you could bring me a program, y'know, and tell me about it?

ANGELA: Maybe. Anyway, I've got to get going.

BRIAN: Okay. (sadly) Thanks for calling.

Angela hangs up, and the screen expands with Brian's living room. He lays back against his pillows, with the phone resting on his chest. He balls his hand into a fist and brings it down hard into the couch. Then he frowns and flings the phone. We hear a metal "clink" followed closely by a small splash. Brian's eyes widen as he sits up quickly and looks over to confirm the fact that he has just tossed his phone into the metal pail with the water in it. He sighs, flops back into the couch and pulls the covers over his head.

INT.CHASE HOME--Late Afternoon

Patty is showing the house to the appraiser. She is still dressed for work. He follows her around from the kitchen to the dining room to the living room. As he prepares to take a shot of the stairs and the landing, Danielle bounds down them and gets in the way.

PATTY: (in her fake, "company" voice) Danielle, honey, get out of the man's way.

Danielle rolls her eyes and does as she's told.

DANIELLE: (whining a bit as she climbs back up the stairs) Where's Dad?

PATTY: He's still at the restaurant. He'll be home soon.

APPRAISER: Well Mrs. Chase, I'm about finished inside. I'll show myself out.

PATTY: (showing him to the door anyway) Thank you. (shuts it)

As soon as the door is shut, Patty leans against it, looking beat. After a few moments, Patty looks at her watch and frowns. The door opens abruptly, flinging Patty into the room, off balance. Graham comes in smiling broadly.

GRAHAM: (seeing what happened, trying not to laugh) Oh, honey, I'm sorry.

PATTY: I'm fine. (smiling at herself)

Graham throws down his briefcase, and rushes to her--he grabs her by the waist and starts to dance with her--badly. He looks ecstatic.

PATTY: (suspicious) I take it one of us had a good day?

GRAHAM: Why, yes. Yes I did. How was your day?

PATTY: (ready to unload) Terrible. . .

GRAHAM: No, no, no. I'm not going to let you spoil my mood with complaining! Just shut up and dance with me!

PATTY: (giving in, smirking) Fine. Should *one* of us lead?

GRAHAM: (smirking right back at her) No, this is *interpretive* dance.

PATTY: (trying to smile through a yawn) Well interpret this. (yawns wider)

GRAHAM: (relenting) Okay. Why don't you go take a hot bath and relax.

PATTY: There's nothing even started for dinner.

GRAHAM: No big deal. It'll just be the three of us, Angela is at that play. So I can just fix Danielle grilled cheese quick and fix something the kids hate for us.

PATTY: And open a bottle of wine?

GRAHAM: Two bottles if I have to.

PATTY: Sounds wonderful. What happened to bring this mood on? Did you and Hallie think of a name?

GRAHAM: (smiling, almost laughing) Nope. We're not even close to deciding.

PATTY: (suspicious again) That what?

GRAHAM: I just love where I am and what I'm doing. All those years, at Wood and Jones, (unthinking) with you, I just never thought it could ever be that way.

Patty's face hardens, but Graham is so happy that he doesn't even notice.

GRAHAM: (continuing) Work was work. *Being* there was work. But this. . . I mean I get up every day excited and I come home tired, but still excited. (thrilled) Can you imagine if this is what the rest of my life will feel like? I feel like I really may get everything I want, just like you said. And I owe it all to you . . . (Patty smiles) . . . and to Hallie Lowenthal.

Patty tries in vain to keep the smile.

GRAHAM: (finally looking at her now pinched face) You really *are* tired aren't you? Just go on upstairs and I'll bring supper up on a tray and we can eat and watch TV and relax. Okay?

PATTY: Okay.

They part, Graham pumped and oblivious to her mood, and Patty fretting wordlessly.


Rickie sits between Angela and Delia at The Crucible. The empty seat is on Angela's right. The lights are still up but the seats are all filled. The play has yet to begin. Rickie and Delia are talking animatedly with laughter and gestures. Angela is inside herself again. She stares at the empty seat.

ANGELA: (VO) For a few moments last week it really seemed that everything was going to be all right. It was like I had finally resolved to stop overestimating Jordan and underestimating Brian. And I have to admit that just for a minute or two I was, like, excited by the prospect of being *wanted* like that--and not just by one person. It was like a fairy tale. Not that they would fight over me--Jordan would snap Brian like a twig. (smiles at the idea) But just the idea of having a choice where I never would have even looked for one before. Of course, now the reality is this empty seat in this packed theater. The prince in the fairy tales never went off to spend time with the guys or feigned sickness to get out of being with the princess. (pause, frowning) I guess the magic and trolls weren't the only things that were make believe in those stories.

The theater darkens and the play begins. The shot of the three friends fades, and a succession of short scenes signifying the passage of time flash on the screen accompanied by words in voice-over from the first two acts of The Crucible.

PARRIS: Your Ruth is sick?

MRS. PUTNAM: I'd not call it sick; the devil's touch is heavier than sick. It's death y'know, it's death drivin' into them, forked and hoofed.

(Visual--Brian in the totally darkened house, with only the eerie, blue, flickering light from the television. He is sweating and yet chilled, sleeping only fitfully)

ABIGAIL: He knows Tituba conjured Ruth's sisters to come out of the grave.

MERCY: And what more?

ABIGAIL: He saw you naked.

MERCY: (clapping her hands together with a frightened laugh) Oh, Jesus!

(Visual--Rayanne at home practicing her lines. On the first two lines above, she looks at a small picture of Angela in the mirror and tries to imitate her. On the third, her face breaks back to a Rayanne expression, like "what the hell am I doing?" On the fourth, she reaches over to a bottle and knocks it over, spilling some beer on herself--she actually mouths the word "Jesus" with anger.)

ELIZABETH: You were alone with her?

PROCTOR: For a moment alone, aye.

ELIZABETH: Why, then, it is not as you told me.

PROCTOR: (angry) For a moment, I say. The others come in soon after. Woman, I'll not have your suspicion anymore. I'll not have it!

ELIZABETH: Then let you not earn it.

(Visual--Graham and Patty sitting in bed. Graham moves a tray off the bed to the floor. He moves closer to Patty, still happy and energetic. She is cold to him and overplays her fatigue. Graham looks disappointed, but Patty does not notice, as on the last line, she turns over in the bed, her back to him.)

ELIZABETH: I think you must tell him. (pause)

HALE: What's that?

ELIZABETH: Will you tell him?

(Visual--Sharon and Kyle at some game. Kyle looks enthused, with the blank, jock look going on. Sharon looks indecisive, as if she is waging an internal war. On Hale's line, Kyle glances over at Sharon and smiles, turning quickly back to the game, standing is his seat and throwing his fist in the air, as if in victory. Sharon does not smile back.)

Back in the theater, the lights come up for intermission between the second and third acts. All three friends seem affected by the play.

RICKIE: (standing) I'm going to the washroom, I'll be right back.

DELIA: (getting up too) I'll come with!

RICKIE: (laughing) I'm actually going to the Men's Room for once, Delia.

DELIA: (giggling) Of course. Sorry. (sits back down) (looks over at Angela, who smiles vaguely) So, I'm sorry Sharon flaked out on us. Do you want to sit in the middle during the second part?

ANGELA: No thanks.

DELIA: Couldn't anyone else come?

ANGELA: Jordan had practice. (hesitating) And Brian said he was sick.

DELIA: (clearly more relieved than anything else) That's too bad.

ANGELA: Listen, Delia, I know we don't know each other very well, but I just wanted to, I don't know, apologize I guess. For getting in the middle at that World Happiness thing. I don't even know why I got involved at all.

DELIA: I do.

ANGELA: (surprised) You do?

DELIA: Sure. (matter-of-factly) You were jealous. (Angela's expression tightens) I mean, I watched you and Brian that day, the day that he asked me. I couldn't quite figure out what was going on. But I think I finally have. It's not like you wanted him for yourself. . .(Angela nods at this) It's just that you didn't want anyone else to have him either.

ANGELA: (softly) Maybe. . .

DELIA: (on a roll, continuing) And I get the same sense with Rickie. That you're a little put out by me again.

ANGELA: (lying) No. It's not like that.

DELIA: Okay. I just want you to know that I'm not trying to take anything away from you. I want to be *your* friend, too, if you'll let me.


DELIA: So you don't have to be sorry. Brian is the one who made the choice. I'm only mad at him. And to be honest, (telling a secret) I'm not even that mad anymore, but it's just so easy to make him uncomfortable, y'know?

ANGELA: (smiling) I think I do.

DELIA: Besides, everything turned out for the best anyway. I had a lot of fun at the dance, and I met Rickie. Did you and Brian have fun?

ANGELA: (laughing sadly) Not exactly, no.

DELIA: I have to tell you. . . I'm actually kind of glad. No offense.

Angela waves this off, and looks pensive, as Rickie returns to his seat.


Jordan and Joey and the bassist are practicing. Jordan's friend Shane wanders the loft. He pulls one of those little disposable cameras out of his coat pocket.

JORDAN: What're you doin'?

SHANE: Well, if you're going to have a new name, you should have some new flyers to go with it, and I've got a cool idea.


SHANE: I'll take a picture of you three and then put a picture of a really big, clear beer bottle over the top of it, so you'll be like, the residue of the booze. If I can I'll get a picture of a bottle with a cigarette butt in it, or something.

JORDAN: How can you do that?

SHANE: Computers, man. I'll just go to Kinko's and superimpose the bottle over you guys and make a bunch of copies.

JORDAN: (surprised that Shane actually had an idea and a good one at that) Cool.

Shane snaps a few pictures of Residue, alternately posing or playing.

JORDAN: Okay. Let's take a break. I've got somethin' to do.

JOEY: Where you goin' Catalano?

JORDAN: I'll be back in fifteen.


Rickie and Delia and Angela exit the theater. They look enthralled with the experience. Rickie and Angela have been crying. Delia and Rickie are arguing.

DELIA: So in the end, Elizabeth didn't love Proctor any more?

RICKIE: No, she did.

DELIA: But she let him *die*. Wouldn't she have fought harder for him to confess if she had really forgiven him?

Rickie is stumped by that one.

ANGELA: (interrupting) I think it doesn't really matter whether or not *she* forgave him. The point was that she gave him the chance to forgive himself.

Rickie nods, and Delia ponders this.

RICKIE: C'mon, let's get to Katimski's and he can give you a ride home, Angela.

Angela nods and they walk down the streets with their own thoughts. A big red car idles up close to the sidewalk, keeping pace with them.

RICKIE: Um, Angela? (pointing) I think it's for you.

Angela turns to see what he means, smiles, and gives them a little wave.

ANGELA: See you guys. Thanks for the night.

Rickie and Delia wave good-bye as Angela gets in the car.


ANGELA: So. What were you doing downtown? I thought you had practice?

JORDAN: I do. We're on a break, and I thought you could use a ride.

ANGELA: Thanks.

JORDAN: So, how was the play?

ANGELA: It was really good. Sad, but good.

JORDAN: (trying to be casual) Did you go with anyone?

ANGELA: (glad he cares) No. I asked Brian Krakow, but he *said* he was sick.

JORDAN: (nodding) I know. Like almost all over the floor.

ANGELA: What do you mean?

JORDAN: (laughing, shaking head) He totally ralphed during tutoring. Right into the garbage can--but he almost didn't make it.

ANGELA: He did?

JORDAN: Yeah. (coming to a stop) Here we are.

ANGELA: Do you have to go?

JORDAN: Yeah. If I ever want those guys to start showin' up on time, I can't be late myself. Knowing them, they might just leave to get a beer.

ANGELA: Okay. Thanks for the ride.

JORDAN: Sure. Pick you up tomorrow morning?

ANGELA: Sure. (she gets out of the car and Jordan drives away--she looks over to the Krakow's house and sees the flickering of the TV in the front windows--she reaches into her pocket and pulls out her crumpled program and smooths it out as she crosses the street)


Brian is awake on the couch wearing a T-shirt and sweats, it is the least dressed up we have ever seen him. The doorbell rings. He flips on the light, wraps the blanket around him, goes to the door and opens it.

ANGELA: (brightly) Hi! Can I come in?

BRIAN: (pleased to see anyone, but especially her) Sure.

Brian climbs back on the couch only barely missing stepping in the pail. Angela sits across from him on a loveseat.

ANGELA: (studying him) Wow, you really don't look so good.

BRIAN: (frowning) Oh, thank you.

ANGELA: (laughs) No, I just mean I guess you're not faking.

BRIAN: (incredulous) You think I would lie to you? When you invite me out somewhere, for free?

ANGELA: I thought maybe you didn't want to come because of Delia.

BRIAN: (falsely macho) I can handle Delia.

Angela looks at him doubtfully.

BRIAN: (defeated) All right, maybe with your help, I could.

ANGELA: (nodding, looking around) Where are your parents?

BRIAN: They're at some banquet for one of my Mom's co-workers.

ANGELA: (concerned) Have you eaten anything?

BRIAN: I doubt I could keep anything down.

ANGELA: When I'm sick, my Mom always brings me soda crackers and ginger ale. Do you want me to get you some? I don't know, (smile) I can tell you about the play, or something.

BRIAN: Sure. Thanks. The crackers are in. . .

ANGELA: Brian. I *know* where they are.

BRIAN: (a little defensive) We could have moved them. . .

ANGELA: But you didn't.

BRIAN: (smiling) No.

ANGELA: I'll be right back.


Kyle and Sharon are near his car, which is parked in front of her house. The ground is wet and dirty, the slush the only remnant from winter.

SHARON: Kyle, we need to talk.

KYLE: Okay. What about? (remembering) Oh, before I forget (he opens the door and pulls out the envelope full of pictures and hands them to her)

SHARON: Thanks.

KYLE: Now before you say anything, I just wanted to say that you can dye your hair if you want. Just don't cut it--I hate short hair on girls. (smiles)

SHARON: It's not that. Kyle, I don't know how to say this, but I guess it's best to be direct. So, (pause) I think we should break up.

Kyle looks at her, shocked.


Angela comes out of the kitchen carrying a plate and a glass. As she walks down the hall, a picture in one of those large collage frames catches her eye.

ANGELA: Ohmygod, Brian. I didn't know you had this picture.

BRIAN: (padding up, barefoot, with the blanket) Which picture?

ANGELA: (hands him the drink) This one. (points at it)

Close shot of the picture. It is a view of a beach, near the water. Young Angela and Sharon (about eight or nine years old) have buried Young Brian in the sand, except for his head.

ANGELA: I remember that day.

BRIAN: Me too. You and Sharon always wanted to go to the artificial lake instead of the pool. And your Mom and Mrs. Cherski were going to take me along, but then, like out of nowhere, my Mom decided to call in sick and come too. (sort of sadly, as if from far away) That was the best day.

ANGELA: I know. I loved the "fake lake."

BRIAN: I didn't. It was creepy. I liked the pool. . .

ANGELA: (smiling, finishing his thought) Because you could see the bottom.

BRIAN: (shrugging) Well, yeah.

ANGELA: I can't believe your Mother kept that picture.

BRIAN: Yeah, she's proud of it, or something. She always said she tried really hard to raise a boy that wouldn't be a bully or mean to women. (he looks skeptical) She thinks that picture represents my patience, or good nature, or whatever.

Angela looks at him.

BRIAN: I think it just shows my capacity to withstand abuse from you and Sharon.

Angela laughs.


It is clear that Kyle and Sharon have been talking awhile now.

KYLE: I just don't understand.

SHARON: Kyle, I don't love you. And it's not fair for me to keep going out with you if I don't.

KYLE: I don't expect you to say it before you're ready. It will come in time.

SHARON: (sadly, wishing he would understand) No, Kyle, it won't.

KYLE: Then why did you ever get back with me after we broke up?

SHARON: I guess I needed someone. And I liked the way you made me feel. But I never thought it was love. I could never love you again, Kyle.

KYLE: But Sharon, we. . . .I mean. . .we still. . . . Just last night, we. . .

SHARON: I know. That's why I didn't tell you then. I couldn't tell you in, like, the afterglow. I'm not proud of it. (looks down) But like I said, I liked the way you made me feel. That's all. (she starts tearing up) I'm sorry. I'm so sorry.

KYLE: (turning in that easy male way from pleading and upset to angry, covering the tears in his eyes) That's so. . . *low*, Sharon.

SHARON: I know. I feel horrible about it.

KYLE: Is this what happens when you hang around with Rayanne Graf?

SHARON: (defensive) What?

KYLE: I guess slut attracts slut.

SHARON: (angry through her tears) Kyle!

KYLE: (grabbing the envelope) And give me these! You don't deserve them!

SHARON: (holding fast) I don't *deserve* them? I only *paid* for them!

The both yank hard on the envelope, which rips, scattering the pictures all over the driveway, in the slushy mess.

KYLE: (bitter, resigned, wanting to hurt her back) You'll regret this, Sharon.

Kyle turns on his heels and gets into his car, revving it loudly, and peals off into the night, leaving Sharon standing there in tears.


Angela and Brian are still talking. The crackers and soda are gone.

BRIAN: It sounds great. I really wish I could have gone.

ANGELA: It was good. But at least you heard all about it. Rickie could probably tell you a lot more about the sets and the costumes then I could, though.

BRIAN: I'm sure he will.

ANGELA: Brian, while I was here, I was wondering if I could ask you a favor.

BRIAN: Have I ever said "no" yet?

ANGELA: (softly) You didn't come to the play.

BRIAN: (defensive, gestures to himself) Angela, I'm sick!

ANGELA: I know. But it's better to ask. I guess I'll always be dreading getting a faceful of sand from you--y'know, like revenge. (he smiles) I was just wondering if you could make me a couple more copies of that picture you took of me--the one that won the prize? Mine is all bent, and my parents wanted a copy too.

BRIAN: (a little proud and superior) Sure. No problem.

ANGELA: Thanks. I'd better go. My parents are probably wondering where I am.

BRIAN: Right. Thanks for coming over.

They both get up, Brian still with the stupid blanket, and head toward the door. He holds it open for her and she turns to say good-bye.

ANGELA: I hope you feel better.

BRIAN: I'm sure I will. Its probably just my allergies or something.

As Brian postulates as to the cause of his sickness, the blanket falls off his left shoulder. Angela reaches out and pulls it back up to his chest, holding it there with her hand. Brian, understandably, trails off, his allergy hypothesis forgotten.


BRIAN: (long pause, barely audible) Bye.

Music starts in the background, "Don't Let the Teardrops Rust Your Shining Heart" by Everything But The Girl.

"Sorrow is a lonely road,

Where the rain, like your tears

Beats heavy on the roof,

On the roof above your head"

(Visual--Brian turns out the light, and stands there in the dark, holding back the curtain a little, watching Angela go)

"Tomorrow is a lovers' town

That's been beaten down

And the hand of winter holds the life we've led

Instead of drowning in despair,

For I find small comfort in a bottle, when we're apart

Don't let the teardrops rust your shining heart--

Don't let the teardrops rust your shining heart."

(Visual--Rayanne, alone, looking in mirror either at herself or the picture of Angela. She pulls out a large bottle of what must be scotch or vodka and takes a long drink. Her eyes tear up, but whether it is from the alcohol or loneliness, we cannot tell.)

"I used to drive all night for you

While the children were asleep

And as the dawn broke on your room

Back into my house I'd creep

Where my husband slept alone,

Of course he must have known.

But we always hide the truth,

For fear of losing what we own."

(Visual--Patty alone downstairs, going through Graham's briefcase. She finds a Polaroid of Graham and Hallie leaning on one another and looks at it in bewilderment and anger. She begins to cry, and forms a fist that she slowly grinds into her hip. Over her shoulder, we see Angela come in and watch, frightened, by the scene of her mother weeping angrily, as she wept over Jordan and Rayanne.)

"Don't forget the words we choose,

And constantly misuse

They were written down each time we were apart

They say, don't let the teardrops rust your shining heart.

Don't let the teardrops rust your shining heart."

(Visual--Sharon outside her house, weeping copiously. She slowly bends down, kneeling in her nylons in the slush to pick up the pictures of her and Kyle, smiling and happy at the dance. The picture only makes her cry more, the tears dripping off her face onto the pictures themselves.)



-- "Ladykillers," by Lush, is available on their 1996 album Lovelife.

-- "Don't Let the Teardrops Rust Your Shining Heart," by Everything But The Girl, is available on their 1986 album Baby, the Stars Shine Bright.

--The Crucible, by Arthur Miller, was copyrighted in 1952 and first produced for the stage in 1953, but still resonates with power, even today. If only I had been more creative, I would have been able to work in the line from Giles Corey: "A fart on Thomas Putnam, that is what I say to that!"

Next story

Episode No. 22 - Diagnosis by E.R. Holdridge (Shobi)
Published: 31 Jul 1997 | Size: 84 KB (15477 words) | Language: english english | Rating: PG-13
Average: 4.5/5   4.5/5 (47 votes)

Read this story now: Episode No. 22 - Diagnosis

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Reviews for this story

Rating Distribution:
Average: 4.7/5   4.7/5 (56 votes)
  • Adrianna commented on 05 Dec 1999:
    Eric is an amazing writer. The way he captures the complexities and beauty of the charecters is truly remarkable. I hope we have many more stories from him headed our way! Bravo Eric!
  • Elizabeth Wrigley-Field commented on 13 Aug 2001:
    The following is a list post I made about Shobi's fan fic and the show, and since it deals with this episode in particular I'm putting it as a review here.

    This post started out being about Shobi's fan fic and wound up being mostly about the Rickie-Delia scene in In Dreams (in which he comes out).

    I've been thinking a lot about other people's fan fic, since Emily and I started writing ours. The one I remembered best was Shobi's (well, his whole series) so I've gone back and been reading some of them. So far I'm up to his #24, Choices. And I figured I may as well discuss them a bit on the list.

    First, let me say that I think his fan fics are so beautifully written. I haven't read that many fan fics, but I consider his the gold star standard in terms of quality writing. I really like a lot of things about them and I'm really jealous at how well he makes his scenes. The point of this is, if you haven't read them, do it! You can find them at along with a lot of other fan fic, most of which I'd like to read at some point.

    But there was one part I thought was awfully weird, and I wanted others' opinions. I think (actually me and Emily were talking about this the other day, so it's not just me) that Shobi underestimates the extent to which Rickie has already come out to his close friends, long before he talks to Delia. Without saying the words "I'm gay," I think Rickie has already come out to Rayanne, Angela, and Brian.

    As far as Angela and Rayanne go, I assume Rickie knows it's obvious to both of them that he has (or has had) a crush on Jordan, and he admits openly to both of them that he has a thing for Cory Helfrich. Shobi makes a big deal in his episode #21 or #22, I forget which, about neither Rayanne nor Angela ever having asked Rickie about his sexual orientation. But I feel like, what were they supposed to say--"So, you have a crush on two boys, you talk to us about being beaten up for wearing makeup and always being in the girls' bathroom--but you're not gay, are you?" I just find it a little odd that they would even have to ask. Of course, that's also how Rayanne feels in Shobi's scene, but what I don't understand is Rickie's reaction--that as his friends, they should have asked because they should have wanted to be sure. What do other people think? Am I off the mark here in thinking that Angela and Rayanne should have never needed to ask--indeed, that is would have been kind of weird if they had done so?

    What seems even more bizarre is how worried Rickie seems in Shobi's #23 about Brian knowing he is gay. Do you actually need to be more explicit than:
    "I mean, do you realize, how much easier my life would be...if I could just like her back? I mean, Brian, this could be my chance. To be straight."
    (That, of course, is what Rickie says to Brian in In Dreams.)

    I'm not saying the Rickie-Delia scene isn't a big deal in In Dreams. I think it's a big deal for two reasons:
    1. It is important to say the words "I'm gay" out loud to another person for the first time.
    2. It is important that Rickie feels comfortable coming out to a relative stranger (even if he wants to be closeted to the world at large more generally).

    But I *don't* think a third reason, which I think some people believe makes this scene more important, is valid:
    3. It's meaningful that the person to whom Rickie is most explicit is not one of his friends.

    Or, at least, if that is meaningful, I think it only is because it underscores that his friends already know.

    What do people think?
  • anonymous author commented on 04 Jun 2002:
    Big legistics problem: Shane is in the band, he's the kid w/ the drumsticks remember?
    The rest was great though
  • anonymous author commented on 15 Jun 2002:
    shane always carries drumsticks, but if you remember the episode when Rayanne joins the band, shane is not at any of the practices. A guy with long curly hair is and the drummer definately not shane
  • Jennifer commented on 16 Jan 2004:
    Wow. I'm so glad I have Eric's fanfiction to read after the extremely maddening and horrible demise of this awesome, lovely show. I can see everything he writes in my head and hear every word perfectly. It's definitely the next best thing!!!

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“Ignore her. She got up on the wrong side of the coffin this morning.”

Enrique (Rickie) Vasquez, Episode 9: "Halloween"