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By Misti Date: 2001 Nov 16 Comment on this Work [[2001.11.16.10.28.18176]] |
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INT. Darwin High School courtyard. Day. Heather, a fetching Heather Graham lookalike dressed in black pants and a fuzzy shell pink sweater, is sitting on a bench by the chimpanzee statue in the courtyard. She is reading *Nine Stories* by J.D. Salinger. Heather is approached by Stan, a tall, skinny guy with dark hair and intense black eyes. Stan is wearing an Eminem t-shirt and faded blue jeans and black combat boots. Heather looks up from the book, startled. Stan: That's a good read. Which story are you on? Heather: The Laughing Man. You've read this book? Wow. You're the first person I've met who has read this book. Stan: That's tragic. Mind if I sit down? Heather: Okay. I'll be leaving soon. I've got theatre arts in five minutes. Stan: That's cool. I saw you in "The Crucible." You're really good. Heather: Thank you! You're Stan, right? You're in my biology lab? Stan: Affirmative. And you're Heather Stone. Everybody knows Heather Stone. Heather: No, everybody thinks they know Heather Stone. But only a select few really do. Stan: Could I be one of those select few? It wasn't my intention to catch you off guard there, but I was thinking we'd make quite the pair at the upcoming Homecoming dance. Heather: Um...you know I'm going out with Ralph, right? Stan: I've seen you two riding around in his Jeep and hanging out with all the football guys and cheerleader chicks in the hallway. Sure. But you aren't married, right? Heather: God, no. I like him a lot, but I don't think anything major will ever happen. Why would you ask me to the dance? We've never really talked. Stan: Oh, well. Thought I'd give it a shot. Like I said, I liked you in "The Crucible." You were very convincing. And I like the way you look. So that's it, basically. I thought you'd make one helluva dance partner. But excuse me, I've got to run. Not literally. You'll never see me going out for track. No, baby. That's not the life for me. But seriously, I've got to make Spanish. Heather: Wait. Can I think about it? You know, 'cause you're the only person I know who has read this book and I'd like to, um, discuss it with you. Here's my number. Heather hands Stan a card that has her name and number on it. Stan takes it and studies it with a somber expression. Stan: Very cute. Very professional. Well, Heather, it's been a pleasure. I will definitely give you a call. Heather: I like your shirt, by the way. You're being ironic, right? Stan: I'm irony deficient. Later, woman. Stan lopes off and Heather watches him with an admiring, slightly stunned smile. |