TIFFANY'S WORLD, EPISODE #3
Tiffany to the Rescue!
By Steve Cross
FADE IN
INTERIOR. THE LIVING ROOM OF THE BLUM-DECKLER HOUSEHOLD. (Tiffany is seated on the sofa, alone.)
TIFFANY: Good evening, I'm your hostess, Tiffany Blum-Deckler. Welcome to Episode Three of "Tiffany's World." At the end of our last episode, my brain was now hitting on all cylinders.
DARIA (o.s.): Anyway, more cylinders than before.
TIFFANY (annoyed): Daria, this is my show now. Okay? (to viewing audience) Now, as I was saying, Sandi found to her dismay that her popularity had suddenly dropped. In this episode, Stacy, Quinn, and I try to cheer Sandi up, which leads to her taking up a new hobby and making some new friends. Brittany returns to Lawndale from Great Prairie State College. She's kind of bummed, too, and I give her some advice also. I also line up a substitute guitarist for the local rock ban Mistaken Squirrel.
TRENT (o.s.): Tiffany, the band is called Mystik Spiral.
TIFFANY: Oh, yeah, right. (giggles) Mystik Spiral. Also, Sandi and her mom have a fight and Sandi gets thrown out of her house.
JAKE (o.s., angry): Squirrels? Where? Let me at 'em.
DARIA (o.s.): There are no squirrels, Dad. Calm down.
JAKE (o.s., relieved): Oh, good. Thanks, kiddo!
TIFFANY: Anyway, enjoy the show!
EXTERIOR. NIGHT. A STREET IN LAWNDALE. (Various angles of an old VW Beetle, the original Volkswagen Beetle, going down the street. The car is nearly forty years old, and shows signs of the era when it was new, including faded flower decals and a badly weathered bumper sticker saying, “Peace is Patriotic.” This is the Blum-Deckler's second car. We have seen the station wagon in Episode One. Fran Blum-Deckler is driving and her daughter Tiffany is the passenger. Both are dressed casually. There are two gym bags in the car.)
FRAN: Well, Tiffany, how did you like your first workout?
TIFFANY: It wasn't as bad as I thought. I thought it was gonna be just a bunch of fat old ladies jumping up and down, but some of them actually looked good.
FRAN: That's how they stay thin, honey. And don't you feel energized? Don't you feel calmer and more refreshed?
TIFFANY: Yeah, I do. I feel like going down to Cashman's and buying some new outfits to celebrate. (sighs) But it's 9:30 and the mall's closed.
FRAN: I guess they don't call it the Australian Energy Company for nothing. This is our new Friday-night activity, honey. We're going to be spending more time together from now on.
TIFFANY (reluctantly): Okay, Mommy.
TIFFANY (V.O.): If I don't do this, she'll probably get real mad and cut my clothes-buying allowance, or make me get a job.
FRAN: This way, you'll get to stay thin without ruining your health on those terrible diet pills, and I'll get thin, so I won't embarrass you in front of your friends.
TIFFANY (humoring her): That'll be fine, Mommy.
FRAN: I know how embarrassing parents can be. After all, Tiffany, I was a teenager once, too.
TIFFANY (V.O.): Why do they all say that?
FRAN: I really like our aerobics instructor, Tiffany. Didn't you? She had such a beautiful name. (fondly) Graciella. Sounds Italian.
TIFFANY (bored): Yeah, Graciella.
TIFFANY (V.O.): I'd phone Quinn, Stacy, or Sandi, but I know they're all on dates. I'm gonna be hanging with Mom on Friday nights, but being strung out on diet pills is worse.
INTERIOR. DAY. BUXTAR'S COFFEE SHOP AT THE MALL. (Tiffany comes into the coffee shop, expecting an enjoyable Saturday morning of shopping. The place is about half full. The background music is “Gold Dust Woman,” an old Fleetwood Mac song from the Seventies. Much to her surprise, Tiffany notices a familiar pair of blonde pigtails. The girl to whose head those pigtails are attached is sitting in the cafe with her back to Tiffany. Tiffany walks up to the girl.)
TIFFANY: Brittany? Brittany Taylor? I'm surprised to find you back in Lawndale!
(Brittany looks up from her latte. Dissolving mascara drips from her eyes.)
BRITTANY (gloomy): Hi, Tiffany.
TIFFANY: Can I sit down?
BRITTANY (apathetic): Sure, why not? (sniffs) Please don't tell any of your Fashion Club friends you found me like this. (Tiffany takes another chair at Brittany's table.)
TIFFANY: Okay, but aren't you supposed to be in college?
BRITTANY (sniffs): College didn't work out for me. I lasted about a month. So I’m back in Lawndale, facing an uncertain future, and drowning my sorrows in one latte after another.
TIFFANY: That's too bad, Brittany. Here, let me get some of that stuff off. (She takes out a tissue and starts wiping the melted mascara off of Brittany's face.) What was your major?
BRITTANY: Undeclared, and I couldn't even pass that. (Tiffany finishes wiping.)
TIFFANY: There. Now you’ll need to wash your face and reapply your base.
BRITTANY: Tiffany, do you think I'm stupid?
TIFFANY (responds quickly): Oh, no! No, Brittany! You're just as intelligent as I am.
(Brittany lets out a howl of anguish. She buries her face in her hands and weeps loudly and bitterly.)
TIFFANY (frowning, to herself): So that's the reputation I have.
(A CAFE STAFF PERSON, female, in her late twenties, walks over to Brittany's table, looking stern.)
CAFE STAFF PERSON (to Tiffany): Honey, I'm going to have to ask you to escort your friend out of here. She's disturbing our other patrons.
TIFFANY: Yes, ma'am. I understand. (She pats Brittany on the shoulder.) Brittany? Let's go out in the mall and walk around for a bit.
BRITTANY (sniffing): Tiffany, I don't think even shopping will help me with this.
TIFFANY: We’re just gonna step out into the mall and chat there. This nice lady just doesn’t want you---uh---depressing the other customers. (Tiffany helps Brittany out of her chair and escorts her out into the mall. Meanwhile, in the background music, Stevie Nicks has just reached the line: “Better put your kingdom up for sale.”)
INTERIOR. DAY. THE FOOD COURT IN THE MALL. (Just outside the coffee shop is the food court, with many tables and chairs. Since it’s still rather early in the day on Saturday, none of the chairs are occupied. Tiffany guides Brittany into one of the seats and takes one at the same table.)
BRITTANY: My whole life is in ruins, Tiffany. I don't know what to do.
TIFFANY: Have you thought about getting a job?
BRITTANY: A job? I don't know how to do anything but be a cheerleader.
TIFFANY (eyes lighting up): Hey, I just thought of something! My Mom and I go to this exercise place, and our aerobics trainer is gonna quit in a few weeks. So they’re gonna have an opening. All you have to do is be peppy, and there's lots of jumping around. It's a lot like being a cheerleader.
BRITTANY (suddenly brightening up): You mean my cheerleading skills are marketable?
TIFFANY: Maybe. Give it a try. It's better than sitting here feeling all sorry for yourself.
BRITTANY: I dunno, Tiffany. Sounds depressing, like a bunch of fat old ladies jumping up and down.
TIFFANY: Well, some of them are, but there's lots of really thin girls there too. That's how they stay thin. My mom and I go there.
BRITTANY: What's the name of the place?
TIFFANY: Australian Energy Company. They're in the phone book.
BRITTANY: But, Tiffany, I can't speak Australian!
TIFFANY: That’s just the name of it. I didn’t meet an Australian the whole time I was there.
BRITTANY (brightening up): I'll go straight home and give them a call. (She gets up.) Thanks for the tip, Tiffany.
TIFFANY: No problem, Brittany.
BRITTANY: You and I need to hang out more. You're a lot smarter than I thought you were.
TIFFANY (taken aback by Brittany's innocent bluntness): Er, thanks, Brittany. I appreciate that.
BRITTANY: I’ll let you know later how I did. Buh-bye! (Brittany turns and walks away.)
TIFFANY: See you later, Brittany, and good luck with that. (As Brittany leaves the mall, Tiffany props her chin on a hand and thinks.)
TIFFANY (V.O.): This is so humiliating. Suddenly I find out everybody at school has been thinking I'm a total moron for, like, three years. (Tiffany's cell phone in her purse rings. She opens her purse and answers it.)
TIFFANY: Hello? Oh, hi, Stacy. (two beats) Quinn's house? I thought we were gonna meet at the coffee shop at the mall and go shopping. (three beats) Sandi doesn't want to go shopping? That is SO not like her. (three beats) Okay, but I'll pick up something on the way to cheer her up. I should be over at your place in, like, an hour. Is that too soon? Good! I’ll see you then. (She hangs up the phone.)
TIFFANY (to herself): Poor Sandi! I gotta get over there!
(EXTERIOR. DAY. OUTSIDE A COFFEEHOUSE ON DEGAS STREET IN LAWNDALE. It is a mild autumn morning in Lawndale. Plenty of people are walking up and down Degas Street, most of them young, and consisting of the usual proportion of real nonconformists to typical poseurs. Three teenage girls are seated at one of the streetside tables outside the coffee shop Smoky Jo’s Café. This one does not belong to a chain like Buxtar’s. Two of the girls are ANDREA the Goth chick and BURNOUT GIRL JENNIFER. The third is BETTY MORENO, the younger sister of Jesse Moreno of Mystik Spiral. Betty is a senior at Lawndale High School. Andrea and Jennifer have graduated but still live in town. Jennifer is speaking.)
JENNIFER: It’s the last thing in the world I was expecting: a Fashion Club girl, Tiffany Blum-Deckler, in my twelve-step meeting!
ANDREA: That is a surprise, Jennifer. What’s she addicted to? Shallowness, or Sarah Michelle Geller’s new 3-in-1 Make-Up?
JENNIFER (serious): Thinno-Pepsin. It’s a fat blocker. (Betty nods. She already knows about this.)
ANDREA (alarmed): I’ve heard about that stuff! A Goth girl in New Zealand overdosed on it last year! It’s not just addictive. The side effects are intense, and not in a good way. It screws around with your attention span and (imitating Tiffany) makes you talk real slow.
JENNIFER: Another member, who’s a cousin of hers, brought her, and made her get up and say, “My name is Tiffany and I’m a diet pill addict.” We spent the next hour offering her encouragement. I give her big credit.
(Betty nods again. Betty Moreno is about three inches taller than Jane. Therefore she is taller than Jennifer, and she towers over the petite Goth chick Andrea. She has Jesse’s profile but a rounder face. Her hair is darker and straighter than Jesse’s. It’s as long as Jennifer’s, but has bangs in the front. She is wearing blue jeans, thick platform sneakers, and a light gray sleeveless T-shirt with something written in Elvish letters from the J. R. R. Tolkien books. A sweater is tied around her waist by its sleeves.)
BETTY: I did wonder about Tiffany. A lot of people at school used to say she was a retard, but if she was really retarded, she wouldn’t be going to our school. I just figured she was a stoner. (She looks at Jennifer, whose pot-smoking past is well known at Lawndale High.)
ANDREA: Fine, so now Tiffany is a slightly more intelligent, but equally conceited, Fashion Club preppy bitch.
JENNIFER: Andrea, be fair! Tiffany’s just starting to tap her potential. You don’t know what any of us will be doing in a few years.
BETTY: I still go to Lawndale, so I was at the school assembly, the “Say No to Drugs” thing, where Tiffany announced she was off the pills. She said the rest of the Fashion Club girls had helped her get off the stuff.
ANDREA: The Fashion Police did that? Well, I guess they’re good for something!
BETTY: Anyway, she announces their names one by one. Everybody claps when she says Quinn. Also for Stacy. Then she goes, “Sandi Griffin.” You could hear a pin drop in that auditorium. (Betty laughs.) Everybody hates Sandi now! It was so cool.
JENNIFER: Are you sh_ttin’ me, girl? (laughs) That’s great.
ANDREA (grin): Well, now we know there’s a limit to what even Lawndale High students will put up with.
BETTY: It gets better. Stacy and Quinn notice what’s happening and they start clapping and go, “Yay, Sandi.” Nobody joins in! So Tiffany up on the stage says, “Let’s hear it for Quinn, Stacy, and Sandi!” Then everybody cheers again, but you know they’re not doing it for Sandi. I saw her walking home from school all by herself later. She looked like she was gonna die! (laughs again)
ANDREA: Oh, good. After she dies, can I dance on her grave?
JENNIFER: Andrea, why don’t you just raise her from the dead and make her your zombie slave?
ANDREA: Jennifer, I’m a Goth chick, not a voodoo priestess.
BETTY: And I’m an Elf.
JENNIFER: And I’m (two beats) Jennifer!
ANDREA (to Jennifer): Can I still call you Burnout Girl?
JENNIFER (to Andrea): You and Betty can, but the rest of them will remain on the death list.
BETTY (rising to her feet, raising her coffee): A toast, to Burnout Girl!
ANDREA (standing up): Burnout Girl!
JENNIFER (standing up): I’ll drink to that. (Andrea and Betty clink their porcelain coffee mugs together, and Jennifer touches her venti-sized paper cup of coffee to it.)
INTERIOR. DAY. QUINN’S BEDROOM. (Sandi and Quinn in Quinn's bedroom, sitting on Quinn's bed. Sandi is still trying to cope with the shocking revelation she received at the end of Episode Two that she is no longer popular. Tiffany and Stacy have not arrived yet.)
SANDI: I remember one time, in fourth grade, when my Mom was mad at me about my grades, and she yelled at me about how I was spending too much time watching TV. She told me I should pick up the remote and turn off the stupid channel. (sniffs) She really hurt me that day, Quinn! She made me cry.
QUINN: I'm sure that must have felt terrible for you. (Quinn gives Sandi a brief hug. Then Quinn’s tone turns serious.) But I heard those same words not so long ago. (Two beats. Sandi looks up at her.) You said the same thing to Tiffany, and made her cry.
SANDI (almost shouting): Oh, my God, yes! On the road trip, when the tire blew out. (speaking faster) But at least I apologized to her, Quinn, which is something my Mom never did to me.
QUINN: That's true, Sandi. You did apologize, but I think we just stumbled across something.
SANDI (with a gasp): You’re right. (Sandi gets up, walks over to the full-length mirror in the corner of Quinn’s room, and addresses it sternly, pointing her right forefinger at it in her familiar bossy way.) Hello, Sandi Griffin. This is your conscience talking. You’re unpopular because you threw your popularity away. You talk mean to everybody, even to good friends like Stacy and Tiffany and Quinn. (Her voice gets shaky.) You’re lucky you have any friends at all. (Tears pour down Sandi’s face. She covers her face with her hands and weeps silently.)
(Quinn walks over to Sandi and hugs her again, without letting go this time.)
QUINN: You’re gonna be okay, Sandi. You’ve got your three best friends to help you through this, just like we helped Tiffany. (Quinn takes out a tissue and begins to wipe Sandi’s face.)
SANDI: Why are you being so nice to me, Quinn? I was jealous of your popularity. I resented you.
QUINN: I know you did, but I just blew it off. We were both interested in fashion and we both were Stacy's and Tiffany's friends. That kept us together.
SANDI: Quinn, you came to my rescue when I was fat, and I'll never forget that. Now I need your help again.
QUINN: You're strong, Sandi. When you broke your leg and got fat, you got thin again. You'll get through this, too. You’re gonna be okay. (She pats Sandi on the back, then turns her loose.)
SANDI (letting out a heavy sigh): Gee, Quinn, you are such a good friend to me.
QUINN: I told you I’d be there for you, so here I am.
SANDI: I don't want to go shopping today. I know this sounds weird, but this is more important than shopping.
QUINN: I know. That’s why I’m having Stacy and Tiffany meet us here. We four will get together and figure out some way to cheer you up.
(Someone knocks at Quinn’s bedroom door, which is closed. Quinn goes to see who it is and opens it. Stacy and Tiffany enter the room.)
TIFFANY: We’re here, Sandi!
STACY: Yeah, the Calvary has arrived. Or is it cavalry? (Tiffany puts down the bag she is carrying. Quinn, Stacy, and Tiffany all give Sandi a group hug. When they separate, Stacy picks up the bag Tiffany had been carrying, and takes three CD’s out of it.)
STACY: Look what we got you, Sandi! The latest albums from Boys Are Guys, New Guys on the Block, and Guys to Men.
QUINN: Oh, Sandi, how nice! Your three favorite groups.
(Sandi takes the CD’s from Stacy.)
SANDI (managing a feeble smile): Thanks, guys. Quinn, let’s pop ‘em in your CD player and see how they sound.
QUINN: Uh, Sandi, my CD player isn’t here right now. (The three of them look to the shelf on which Quinn’s entertainment system usually sits. There is a conspicuous rectangular clean spot there.) Serge is getting it fixed for me. He’s so handy about that kind of stuff.
SANDI: Well, we could all go to my place and listen to them there.
EXTERIOR. A LAWNDALE RESIDENTIAL STREET. (Various angles of the Blum-Deckler's VW Beetle going down the street. Focus on the occupants of the car. Tiffany is driving. Sandi is beside her. Quinn and Stacy are in the back seat.)
SANDI: Tiffany dear, I hope you don’t mind being seen driving an old hippie car. It could damage your reputation. People might think you’re back on drugs again.
STACY (whispers to Quinn): Now there’s the Sandi I remember!
TIFFANY: It's my dad's old car. My mom and dad won’t admit they were hippies. They say they were activists. Mom says there was a difference. I can’t figure out what the difference was, 'cause the hippies and activists all dressed the same.
SANDI (with a shrug): Whatever! (Muttering to herself.) Maybe I should become a rebel.
QUINN: What was that, Sandi?
SANDI: Nothing. (Idly looking out the car window.) Let’s just go listen to the music, okay?
QUINN (whispering to Stacy): She's getting gloomy again.
INTERIOR. THE STAIRCASE AT SANDI’S HOUSE. (This is the infamous staircase down which Sandi took her fateful tumble in Fat Like Me, breaking a leg. Sandi, Stacy, Quinn, and Tiffany enter the house, in that order, and start up the stairs. At the top of the stairs, just outside Sandi’s bedroom door, sits Sam Griffin’s skateboard. The words, “Yo! Grinder’s Deck!” are painted on it in colorful graffiti-art style. The girls come to the top of the stairs. They stop. Sandi glares down angrily at the skateboard.)
SANDI (angrily): That bratty, inconsiderate kid brother of mine! I could have tripped on this thing, fallen down the stairs, and broken my leg again! (She brings an angry foot down on the end of the skateboard, catapulting it into the air. Spontaneously, Sandi reaches out and catches it. She looks down at the skateboard in her hands, puzzled.) Why did I do that?
STACY: Actually, Sandi, that looked kind of cool.
TIFFANY: Yeah, poetry in motion.
QUINN: Sandi, we’re here to listen to the new albums. Remember?
SANDI: Excuse me a second, guys. Just go on in. I have some family business to handle. (She walks to the other end of the hall and knocks on her brother Sam’s door. Stacy, Quinn, and Tiffany go into Sandi’s bedroom. Sandi open’s the door to Sam’s room. Eminem’s rap “Stan,” played very loud, comes blaring out the door. Sandi leans into the room, and without saying anything, tosses it in with a thump.
INTERIOR. SANDI’S BEDROOM. (Quinn is popping a CD out of Sandi’s PC, which she mainly uses to play CD’s, except for the occasional email. Sandi is lying on her bed, hands behind her head, staring at the ceiling. Her cat Fluffy is curled up beside her on the bed, asleep. The other three are lounging around the room. Stacy is lying on the floor flipping idly through a copy of Waif.)
QUINN: Well, that’s the latest masterpiece from Boys Are Guys. What did everybody think?
STACY: Boys Are Guys used to be one of my favorite groups, but this album's kind of disappointing. It sounds just like their last one.
TIFFANY: It was even more like the one before last.
SANDI: Tiffany, dear, it sounds like all their other albums. (Sandi sits up on her bed and crosses her legs Indian-style.) I agree with Stacy. Boys Are Guys just don’t do it any more for me either. (sadly) I need to be alone.
TIFFANY: But we haven’t heard the latest Guys To Men yet.
QUINN: Sandi, maybe Boys Are Guys doesn't sound as good as they did when we were like fourteen, but we're just trying to cheer you up.
SANDI: I know that, Quinn, and I appreciate it. Thanks for the CD’s. I’ll keep them and play them sometimes. But right now, I need to be alone, again. I’ll give you guys a call later.
(Quinn, Stacy, and Tiffany get up to leave. Fluffy gets up, crawls into Sandi's lap, and purrs.)
STACY: Okay, Sandi, but we’ll be there for you, just like we were for Tiffany.
TIFFANY: Sandi, you might try getting a new hobby.
QUINN: Call us when you need us, Sandi. We're here for you.
SANDI (patting her cat): Thanks for coming by, guys. I’ll be in touch. (to Fluffy) Hello, Fluffy. You're still my friend, aren't you? (She strokes the cat behind its ears. The cat meows affectionately.) Yes, you are. You're my kitty cat. I'm still popular with kitty cats, aren't I? (The cat rolls over. Sandi strokes its tummy.) You know, Fluffy, maybe Tiffany was right. Maybe your mommy needs a new hobby. Or an old hobby. (Without dropping the cat, Sandi jumps to her feet.) Hey! I just had an idea.
INTERIOR. ATTIC OF THE GRIFFIN HOUSE. (Sandi is digging through an old trunk. She pulls out a pair of in-line skates.)
SANDI (fondly): Ah, here we are! (V.O.) My old blades. They'd never fit me now. I was just a kid then. I was, what? Eleven? Ten? Something like that. Dad and I would go to the skating rink and skate, and Mom would bring the boys. Chris was a baby then. She'd give him his bottle and Sam would watch us go around and around, and wave hello and bye-bye to us. That's the answer! I'll skate. It'll get my mind off my problems, and who knows? It might even be the key to reviving my popularity.
INTERIOR. SANDI'S BEDROOM. (Sandi punches in a phone number.)
SANDI: Hello, Amy?
(Split screen. Amy Toronaga, Lawndale High School's most renowned skater, whom we first met in Episode Two, is on the left. Sandi is on the right.)
AMY: Yeah, this is Amy. (skeptical) Who is this?
SANDI: Sandi Griffin, from school.
AMY (suspicious): Dude, how did you get my number?
SANDI: There's only one Toronaga in the phone book.
AMY: Okay, so why did you call me?
SANDI: I want you to teach me skating. (Amy laughs, raucously, into the phone.)
SANDI: Come on, Amy. I'm serious.
AMY: No, you're not, dude! Hel-lo? We hate each other's guts. This is some kind of practical joke, isn't it?
SANDI: Amy, why don't you trust me? When have I ever done anything to harm you?
AMY: Sandi, you're a prep. You're the ultimate prep, dude! You're President of the Fashion Club. I'm a skater. We come from different planets! There is NO WAY we could ever get along.
SANDI: First of all, Amy, there's no Fashion Club any more. In the second place ---
AMY (interrupts): Forget about it, dude! This whole set-up is phony. Good-bye! (Amy hangs up the phone.)
SANDI (hanging up the phone): And people think I'm a jerk!
(Cut to: SANDI lying on her bed a few minutes later, stroking Fluffy. Someone knocks on the door.)
SANDI: Who is it?
SAM'S VOICE (through door): Sam! Open up, Sandi. (Sandi sighs, gets up from the bed, and opens the door. Her brother Sam hands her a cordless phone.)
SAM: You're wanted on the phone. It's Amy.
SANDI (V.O.): Amy wants to apologize. Good. I’m entitled to that.
SANDI: Thanks, Sam. I’ll take it. (She takes the phone from him.)
(Split screen. Amy on the left, Sandi on the right.)
AMY (sounding contrite): Sandi, dude, I wanna apologize for being such an asshole.
SANDI (calmly): Accepted. I can understand why you’d be suspicious. After all, I’m a bit of a bitch myself. Or I was. I need take a new direction, Amy. I want to try a new hobby. Like skating. Are you interested now?
AMY: Sure. The reason I called Grinder was to see if these skating lessons you want me to give you are the real deal or some kind of joke.
SANDI: Grinder?
AMY: Yeah, Grinder. Your brother Sam. He told me how the ‘rents used to take him down to the skating rink when he was little. He’d watch you and your Dad skate while your Mom would give Chris his bottle. So you’ve got a foundation, Sandi. Now that I know, I’m up for it.
SANDI: Thanks, Amy. I’m looking forward to it.
AMY: Skating is a boon to all mankind, dude. If everybody skated, there wouldn’t be any war. So, when can you start?
SANDI: I could start today, but first I gotta buy some skates.
AMY: Knee and elbow pads too, and a helmet. I’ll meet you at Sports Headquarters at the mall at 3 o’clock today. Deal?
SANDI: Deal. I’ll see you then.
AMY: See you then, dude. (They both hang up the phone. End of split screen. Amy’s half disappears.)
INTERIOR. SPORTING GOODS STORE AT THE MALL. (The store is a member of an easily recognizable chain, Sports Headquarters, the Dariaverse equivalent of Sports Authority. Sandi is working her way through a display of women's activewear, including hooded sweatshirts, with Amy close behind. Sandi finds one that's maroon, the same color as her pants in the fifth season of "Daria." She picks it up.)
SANDI: I like the color of this one. (She glances at the size tag.) Gee, Amy, I'd disappear into it. (She continues browsing. Suddenly she notices one in another color she likes, a sort of dark red. She picks it up enthusiastically.) Aubergene!
AMY: Aw-bur-what, dude?
SANDI: Aubergene, Amy. (She holds the shirt in front of herself.) This should have been the breakout color for last fall, and the fall before that, and the fall before that.
AMY (amused): Yeah, but what does Waif say?
SANDI: Waif decided to push lemon and peach on everybody. I was very disappointed, but I never lost my love for dear aubergene. I'm going to get this one, Amy, even though Waif recommends a different color.
AMY: You're going against the word of Waif magazine? Dude, I can't believe what I'm hearing.
SANDI: Yes, it does seem out of character for me, but you know what, Amy? For the first time in years, I feel like I'm in control of my life again. Skating is my thing, and I'll dress the way I please when I skate. If I want to wear aubergene instead of lemon or peach, I'll wear aubergene.
AMY: That's the spirit, dude! Screw Waif!
SANDI: Gee, Amy, let's not go to extremes here. I'll still look to Waif for guidance in other areas of fashion, but when it comes to skating-based active ware, I'll dress in the color I feel happiest in.
AMY: Any color you like, dude! The important thing is to get you on those magic little wheels again.
INTERIOR. THE SKATING RINK. (Ten or fifteen people are skating around the rink, mostly preteens, but there are two couples, one apparently teenage, the other a decade older. VARIOUS ANGLES of the skaters, showing Amy and Sandi skating around the rink. Sandi's agility and speed seem to match Amy's.)
AMY (shouting over the noise of the rink): Time to stop, dude. Do ya know how?
SANDI (shouting): I usually just grab something, or somebody.
AMY: Can ya stop like this? (Amy elegantly brings herself to a stop, and stands on her skates. Sandi grabs tries to stop by grabbing Amy. They both fall over in a heap, with Sandi on top facing Amy.
VOICE OF SKATER (o.s.): Hey, girls, get a room. (Sandi's face turns beet red. She immediately jumps off of Amy.)
AMY (getting up): Okay, dude, time to learn a cooler way to stop.
SANDI: Good. Now I know how geeky I look, stopping the way I do.
AMY: I'll tell ya how to stop. You take your left skate and turn it inwards, so it acts like a brake. Here, lemme show ya.
(Amy skates around the rink and demonstrates stopping near to Sandi.)
AMY: That's how to stop, Sandi. Now you do it.
(Sandi starts up, goes around the rink, then tries to stop. Her left skate turns in a little too abruptly, and she falls on her face.)
AMY (running up): Yo, Sandi! You okay, dudette?
SANDI (getting to her feet): I'm all right. And I think I know what I did wrong. I turned my left skate in just a little too tight. Let me try again.
AMY: That's the spirit, dude! Just get up and start again.
CUT TO ---
EXTERIOR. DUSK. OUTSIDE OF THE SKATING RINK. (Amy and Sandi are shown leaving the rink.)
AMY: Dude, you got all the fundamentals, now. You’re ready for the vert!
SANDI: The what?
AMY: The vert, dude. You know, the ramp down at the skatepark. That will be our next lesson.
SANDI (smiling briefly): Thanks. I feel like I'm ready too. (two beats) You know what, Amy? Despite your --- uh, not being the same as me --- you're all right.
AMY: Thanks, Sandi. You're all right too. Are you gonna keep on pretending to hate my guts at school?
SANDI: No! We have something in common now. In fact --- I never thought I'd hear myself saying this --- I like you, Amy.
AMY: But dude! Liking me will damage your popularity.
SANDI: I like to think it'll broaden my base of support.
EXTERIOR. DAY. MARK STEESE MUNICIPAL PARK. (This is a public park in Lawndale that features a vert. Sandi is standing at the top of the vert. Amy, Sam "Grinder" Griffin, a pre-teen skater named Marty who is also Jamie White's brother, and several other skaters stand below, watching. Amy and Sandi are the only female skaters there. The others range in age from eight to late teens. Jamie from the Three J's can be seen in the background, sitting on a bench and watching.)
AMY (cupping hands over her mouth, and shouting): Go on and do it, Sandi, or stop taking up space!
(Sandi takes a deep breath, crosses herself, and starts off down the vert. She comes to the center, starts up the other side, slows to a stop part of the way up, and loses her balance. She falls on her butt and slides down to the center. The skaters, including Sam, laugh. Amy joins in, but does not laugh as much as the others.)
AMY: Dude, you gotta skate going down, so you'll be going fast enough to get up the other side. Allow me to demonstrate. (She climbs the vert, starts down on her in-lines, goes up the other side, flips around, starts back down, and stops herself in the middle.) Like that, dude! Don't feel bad about eating it. It comes with practice. I wiped out a lot at the start, too.
SANDI: Amy, I’m gonna conquer this thing.
AMY: Conquer? Sandi, I just had an inspiration. I’ve got your nickname picked out. You’re Xena.
SANDI: Xena?
AMY: Yeah, conqueror, warrior, Xena the warrior princess.
SANDI: Couldn't you just call me Warrior? Leather is so wrong, even for accessories.
AMY: Cool! Warrior is your name, dude.
(Sandi goes back on the vert and eats it again, but this time she goes further up. A familiar figure (Jamie from the three J's) walks up to ask if she’s all right.
SANDI (still a bit dazed from crashing): Jamie? Jamie White from the football team?
JAMIE: Yeah, my folks make me come down here on weekends to look out for Marty over there. (He points to one of the skaters, a scruffy 8-year-old who is his kid brother Marty.)
MARTY (raising hand): Yo!
AMY: Jamie and I used to skate together when we were kids.
JAMIE: Yeah, I live across the street from her.
AMY (low voice, to herself): That was before the divorce.
JAMIE: I think it's cool you're a skater, Sandi.
SANDI (surprised): You do?
JAMIE: Sure! Lots of guys go for chicks who are, like, sporty and active.
SANDI (still surprised): They do? (Sandi checks her memory.)
STACY (V.O.): You'd get all sweaty and your makeup would smudge.
TIFFANY (V.O.): You're supposed to date jocks, not be one.
SANDI (to Jamie): But I thought you liked Quinn best.
JAMIE: Please! I am so over Quinn now. It's like Joey says. If any one of the three of us was gonna get Quinn, it would've happened by now.
SANDI (smiles): Seems logical.
JAMIE: Just get back up there and keep trying till you master this thing. You've got Amy training you. You couldn't ask for a better one.
AMY: Remember, dude, your name is Warrior. Be worthy of it!
SANDI (to both Amy and Jamie, and to herself): Okay, my name is Warrior, and I'm gonna conquer that vert! (She starts climbing the vert again.)
MARTY: Yeah, Sandi!
SAM (cupping hands over mouth): You can do it, Warrior! (to Marty) That’s my sister. I never thought I’d hear myself say this, but she suddenly turned way cool.
INTERIOR. TIFFANY’S BEDROOM. (Tiffany sits at her vanity table, adjusting her makeup. Her cell phone, sitting beside her, rings.)
SUPER: Some days later.
TIFFANY (answering her cell): Hello?
(SPLIT SCREEN. Brittany on the left, Tiffany in her bedroom on the right.)
BRITTANY (cheerful): Hello, Tiffany? It’s Brittany!
TIFFANY: Hi, Brittany. How did that aerobics thing work out?
BRITTANY (excited): That’s why I called! I applied for it this week, and had a really great interview. They hired me as an Aerobics Instructor Trainee. No matter what happens in my future, I’ll be able to earn a living in the wellness industry! I’m so excited. Thanks, Tiffany.
TIFFANY: You’re welcome, Brittany. Glad to help.
BRITTANY: My dad was real disappointed in me for not doing better in college, but because of my new job, he’s letting me have a big huge Halloween party. You’re invited. You gotta be there, Tiffany. It’s the least I can do after what you did for me.
TIFFANY: Thanks! I'd love to come.
BRITTANY: Tell the whole Fashion Club they’re invited too, but they gotta come in costume.
TIFFANY: Okay, but we don’t call ourselves a club any more. We’re just four girls who like to hang out together.
BRITTANY: Whatever! You know who I mean. There’s only one problem. We can’t have a band because the guy who plays the rhythm guitar broke his arm.
TIFFANY: I know a guitar person.
BRITTANY (excited): Tiffany, if you could put that powerful brain of yours to work on this, it would be so cool!
TIFFANY: I can’t promise you anything. She might not be available, but I’ll see what I can do.
BRITTANY: Okay! The leader of the band is Trent Lane. That’s T-R-E-N-T L-A-N-E. (Tiffany writes down the name.)
TIFFANY: Got it. Trent Lane, and his phone number would be what?
EXTERIOR. DAY. FRONT YARD OF THE LANES’ HOUSE. (Tiffany is walking toward the front door.)
TIFFANY (V.O.): I’ve been trying to get Trent by phone all week, but he doesn’t answer. So I gotta waste part of my valuable Saturday afternoon, when I could be shopping or on a date, trying to find him. (Tiffany knocks. Jane answers, looking drowsy and holding a coffee mug. Both are surprised by the encounter. Tiffany remembers Jane as a friend of Quinn's weird sister, but doesn’t really know her. Jane knows who Tiffany is, but can't imagine why Tiffany is standing at her door.)
TIFFANY: Hi. I’m looking for Trent Lane.
JANE: You came at the right time, Tiffany. He should be up by now. (She checks her watch.) One thirty. Yeah, it’s about time for him to get up. Come on in and have some coffee while I try to rouse him.
TIFFANY: Okay. Thanks, Elaine.
JANE: The name is Jane. Jane Lane.
TIFFANY: Oh, right. Sorry, Jane. (Tiffany enters the house.)
INTERIOR. THE LANE’S KITCHEN. (Jane and Tiffany enter the kitchen. Tiffany sits down. Jane goes to the coffeemaker and pours Tiffany some coffee.)
LANE (pouring the coffee): So what’s your business with Trent?
TIFFANY: I know somebody that does rhythm guitar, so Trent's band can play at Brittany’s party.
LANE: Brittany Taylor is having a party?
TIFFANY: Yeah, the Halloween thing.
(Jane places the coffee pot back in the coffeemaker.)
JANE: Cool. He’ll be glad to hear that. He hates to lose a gig. How do you like your coffee?
TIFFANY: Non-dairy creamer, please, and no sugar. Sugar makes me fat.
(Jane gives Tiffany her coffee and some packets of non-dairy creamer.)
TIFFANY: Thanks for the coffee, Jane.
(Jane sits in another chair.)
JANE: You’re welcome. By the way, thanks for finally acknowledging my existence.
TIFFANY (missing the irony): No problem.
(There is the sound of a belch from off-screen. Trent Lane enters, his hair disheveled. He scratches himself in several places. His clothes look like he just slept in them, which he has.)
JANE: Here’s the man himself. Good afternoon, Trent.
TRENT: Jane? Coffee. Please. Now. (He half-falls, half-sits at the kitchen table across from Tiffany. He notices her, and stares without comprehension, as if a creature of an unknown species had somehow broken through the dimensional barrier into his world.)
JANE: I see introductions are in order. Trent, this is Tiffany. Tiffany, this is Trent. (She gets up to get coffee for Trent.)
TRENT: Hey.
TIFFANY: Hi, Trent. I’m here about the ---
TRENT (interrupting, holding up both hands, palms outward): Please! Stop! Must. Have. Coffee. (Jane hands him a mug.)
TIFFANY: Sorry, Trent. (Trent takes a long sip on his coffee. Jane sits.)
JANE (to Tiffany): He’ll be functional in a minute or two. I make the first pot of the day especially strong for that.
(Trent puts down the mug. He sits up completely erect for the first time. His eyes open up wide for the first time. He looks closely at Tiffany.)
TRENT: Okay. I’m ready to talk now, Stephanie.
TIFFANY: Tiffany.
TRENT: Tiffany it is. No offense, okay? I’m just not all here until I get my first boost of caffeine. You understand.
TIFFANY: Sure.
TRENT: So, what can I do for you?
TIFFANY: It’s about the party at Brittany Taylor’s place.
TRENT: We can’t do the gig if we don’t get a rhythm guitar player real soon. Jesse broke his arm.
TIFFANY: My cousin used to be in a band. She played electric guitar.
TRENT: Rhythm guitar?
TIFFANY: Yeah. Her name’s Julia. Julia Deckler. (At the sound of this name, an electric shock seems to jump from Trent to Jane and back again.)
TRENT and JANE (in unison): Crazy Julia?
TIFFANY (vigorously shaking her head): No, she’s not crazy. She’s one of the coolest people I know.
TRENT: Tiffany, did I just hear you say your cousin was Julia Deckler of The 500 Psychos?
TIFFANY: That’s right. The 500 Puh-sy-coes.
JANE: Only the best unsigned band in the tri-state area about seven years ago.
TIFFANY: Which three states are those?
JANE: This one and any two others. Take your pick. There’s 49.
TRENT: You may not know this, Tiffany, but Julia Deckler is a rock-and-roll legend in her own lifetime. I feel sure I’m speaking for all members of Mystik Spiral when I say we’d be honored to have her play with us.
TIFFANY (handing Trent a slip of paper across the table): Fine. Here’s her number. She lives here in Lawndale. Just give her a call. (Tiffany is sipping her coffee.)
TRENT (taking the paper from Tiffany): Thanks, Tiffany. Whoa! This is a freakin’ miracle---Crazy Julia playing with Mystik Spiral.
JANE: Trent, I must come to this gig. I only know the Psychos from the cassette you gave me when I was a kid. It kept me safely weird in grade school.
TRENT: Janey, I would never deny my own sister a chance to meet rock-and-roll royalty.
(Tiffany is puzzled. Jane does not seem like the kind of person Brittany would invite to a party.)
TIFFANY: Are you invited, Jane?
TRENT (to Tiffany): It doesn’t matter. Janey’s a member of the band. Aren’t you, Janey? (He looks at Jane with a wink, then turns to Tiffany.) She’s our roadie.
JANE (deadpan): Yeah, that’s right. The roadie.
TIFFANY (to Jane): What instrument does a roadie play?
JANE (deadpan): The rodiotron.
TRENT (to Tiffany, going along with the joke): She’s very good. You've never heard the rodiotron until you haven't heard Janey play it.
(Tiffany takes another sip of coffee and makes a face.)
TIFFANY (to Jane): Thanks for the coffee, Jane, but this stuff is so strong, I’m afraid I won’t sleep tonight if I drink any more. You know?
JANE: No problem.
TIFFANY (to both): I’m looking forward to hearing you guys’ music at the party. (getting up from the table) Especially that new thing, the rodeo--- (hesitating)
TRENT (still the deadpan): Rodiotron.
TIFFANY: Rodiotron, yeah. It’ll be a new musical experience for me. I’m looking forward to it. See ya then!
TRENT (smiling for the first time): Thanks for setting us up with Julia, Tiffany. This is gonna rock!
(Jane gets up from the table to show Tiffany the door. Trent takes a long meditative sip of coffee, and regards Tiffany fondly as she walks out of the room. Jane glances back and notices him looking at Tiffany.)
INTERIOR. THE LANE’S KITCHEN. (About a minute later, Trent is still sitting at the table nursing his coffee. Jane re-enters the room and sits again.)
JANE (amused): Trent, I saw you checking out Tiffany’s butt as she left the room.
TRENT: I was admiring her shiny, silken black hair.
JANE: You were looking at her ass. I saw you.
TRENT (reluctant): Well, maybe a little, in between admiring her hair. (two beats) How well did you know Tiffany at school?
JANE (sitting down): Not very well. She’s a senior there this year.
TRENT: So what’s she like?
JANE (taken aback): My God, Trent! Tiffany? (She shakes her head.) You can’t be that desperate.
TRENT: Janey, if she’s totally wrong for me, here’s your change to warn me.
JANE: Okay, Trent, let’s break it down. First of all, there’s nothing holding up that high forehead of hers but compressed air. She does only good enough in school to move up to the next grade every fall.
TRENT (amused): Sounds like you’re describing my high school years.
JANE: That is so not the same, Trent. You’re a talented musician. Tiffany’s barely talented enough to adjust her own makeup, which she does every twenty minutes. In the second place, she hangs out with a snobby, exclusive clique of girls called the Fashion Club who dress preppy and date mostly athletic and (rolls her eyes) popular boys. In the third place, she’s the most boring conversationalist in the history of Lawndale High. Her favorite subject is whether the outfit she’s wearing makes her butt look fat. And furthermore ---
TRENT: Okay, okay, Janey, I get the picture. It wouldn’t work out between me and her.
JANE: That's putting it mildly. She’s the anti-Daria. Trent, she didn't know you were kidding about the nonexistent instrument I play.
TRENT: Really? I thought she was just going along with the joke.
JANE: Never mind. You’ve got a phone call to make.
(Trent looks at the note with Julia’s number on it and gets up from the table.)
TRENT: Yeah, a date with destiny. You know, Janey, it’s a shame about Tiffany, ‘cause I was wondering what kind of singing voice she had.
JANE (laughing): Tiffany singing for Mystik Spiral?
TRENT (leaving the kitchen): Not for Mystik Spiral. Maybe the Harpies.
JANE (getting up from the table): Oh, she’ll harmonize so well with Monique. Trent, don’t ever lose that sense of humor.
TRENT (O.S.): It was just a thought.
INTERIOR. TRENT’S BEDROOM. (Trent’s room is in its usual state of slacker chaos. Trent holds the note in one hand, while his other hand is poised over a telephone set. Jane stands beside him.)
TRENT: This is a special moment, Janey. I’m about to call Julia Deckler. It’s like a once-in-a-lifetime opportunity is waiting at the other end of the line.
JANE (impatient): Trent, you’re a musician. She’s a musician. So go ahead and dial the number. What’s the deal?
(Trent dials the number.)
EXTERIOR. DAY. THE APARTMENT COMPLEX WHERE JULIA LIVES. (Various angles of the complex. A trumpet, playing a rather jazzy improvisational version of the "Star Spangled Banner" can be heard in the distance. FOCUS ON on Julia’s apartment balcony on the second floor of one of the buildings. Julia is leaning against the railing playing her trumpet. The cordless phone in the patio chair next to her rings. She stops playing and picks it up.)
(Split screen. Trent and Jane in Trent’s room on the left side, Julia on the balcony on the right.)
JULIA: Hello?
TRENT: Cra---um---Julia? Julia Deckler?
JULIA (amused): Yes, this is Crazy Julia. Who’s calling, please?
TRENT: You may not remember me, Julia, but I remember you from Lawndale High. My name’s Trent Lane.
JULIA: Trent Lane? Is that you? Sure, I remember you! Trent Lane, how cool! That really takes me back. Yeah, you were a freshman my senior year, and the Psychos were just getting started. (laughs a little) Well, well, hello, Trent Lane!
TRENT (to Jane, looking uncommonly excited for Trent): She remembers who I am! (on the phone): I’m in a band called Mystik Spiral. We play at the Zen a lot. Ever heard of us?
JULIA: Oh, yeah, I heard your group once. You guys have a lot of potential.
TRENT: You really think so? Thanks! That means a lot coming from you, Julia.
JULIA (V.O.): They need a lot of help!
TRENT: Anyway, Julia, I don’t know if you still play any more, but my band’s rhythm guitarist broke his ulna.
JULIA: His what?
TRENT: His ulna. U-L-N-A.
JULIA: Oh, right. His ulna, a bone in the forearm.
TRENT: He did a stage-dive at the Zen last week and didn’t land right. He’ll be okay in about six weeks, but we need a rhythm guitarist to fill in for this big gig we have coming up. (Feeling himself in the presence of greatness, Trent can hardly bring himself to make his request.) So I was wondering if, uh, that is, if you don’t mind---
JANE (whispers, to Trent): Trent, you’re not asking her to have your baby. Out with it.
JULIA (interrupts): You want me to fill in for him?
TRENT (relieved at not having to ask the rock-and-roll legend outright): Uh, yeah, if you could possibly fit it in.
JULIA: Trent, it would be a lot of fun to rock out like I used to, but I have a steady job now.
(Trent is crestfallen. One of his heroes has “sold out.”)
TRENT: Aw, man! Julia, are you telling me a great musician like you went and got one of those jobs where you, like, have to show up every day at a certain time?
JULIA (proudly): Trent, I’m a paramedic for Lawndale County EMT. I save lives.
TRENT (greatly relieved): Oh, that’s different. Saving lives is cool. Listen, Julia, I’m only asking you to replace Jesse for one gig. It’s a party at some rich chick’s house.
JULIA: I’ll do it if I can fit it into my rotating shift schedule. What day is it gonna be?
TRENT: It’s the Saturday before Halloween.
JULIA: Lemme check my calendar. (She pulls a little quick-reference card out of her wallet.) Yeah, I can do it. I’m on day shift the whole week before that, so we can practice with your band.
TRENT (extremely grateful): Thanks, Julia! That will be cool. No, it’s beyond cool.
JANE (to herself): Oh, my God. She said yes! She's gonna do it!
TRENT: It’s beyond awesome. You can’t imagine how privileged the guys are gonna feel about having you perform with us.
JANE (jumping up and down like an excited child): I’m gonna see Crazy Julia jamming with Mystik Spiral! This rocks!
JULIA: Thanks, Trent. It’s gonna be fun grinding my axe again. I still have the guitar I used on the Psycho’s last tour.
(Jane runs out of the room.)
TRENT: Cool. Now we need get together for practice.
JULIA: What's going on over there? I heard somebody yelling.
TRENT: It's my sister. She's a huge fan. She's very excited about hearing you perform again.
JULIA: That’s cool.
INTERIOR. JANE’S BEDROOM, IMMEDIATELY AFTERWARDS. (Jane is at her computer, typing an email.)
JANE (V.O.): Dear Daria: You are not going to believe what’s just happened. Remember Jesse getting his arm broken? Well, the Halloween gig at Brittany’s is back on. We're getting Julia Deckler to fill in for him. Yes, you read that right! Crazy Julia from the 500 Psychos is coming out of retirement for this gig. She still lives here in Lawndale. Isn’t that just too cool? I know you'll be busy at college, so I'm gonna videotape it and have my techie friend Betty convert it into an MP3 so you can share in this magic moment. I’ll email the file to you when it’s ready. Su Amiga siempre, Jane.
JANE (with a click of the mouse): And send! Julia Deckler playing again. How cool is that? (two beats) My God! I'm so excited I'm talking to myself.
INTERIOR. BASEMENT OF THE LANE'S HOUSE. (Trent and Julia are practicing together. They start playing "Freakin' Friends" but without singing. Julia is facing away from the door at the top of the stairs. The door opens. Jane enters and starts down the stairs. The quality of play from one of the guitars is much better than you typically hear in a Mystik Spyral set.)JANE (V.O.): Oh, my God, I can't believe it. It's her. It's Crazy Julia.
(The playing stops.)
TRENT: That was awesome, Julia!
JULIA: Thanks. (They both turn around and see Jane staring at Julia. Jane throws herself of the floor of the basement.)
JANE: I am not worthy!
(Julia laughs.)
TRENT: Julia, this is my sister Janey.
JANE (getting to her feet): Hi, Julia.
JULIA (shaking hands with Jane): Pleased to meet you, Janey.
JANE: Did you know me when I was a little kid?
JULIA (puzzled by the question): Of course not.
JANE: Then you may call me Jane.
JULIA (snickers): Okay, Jane. What’s up with that “not worthy” stuff?
JANE: Trent took me to all the Wayne and Garth movies when I was a kid. You know, you're a rock legend around here. Finding you in the family basement, well, I felt really humble.
JULIA: I'm glad you liked my music. A rocker is nowhere without her fans.
EXTERIOR. DAY. THE VERT AT MARK STEESE MUNICIPAL PARK.
SUPER: THE FOLLOWING SATURDAY.
(Sandi is practicing on the vert. She goes around seven or eight times, to the fervid applause of Amy, Marty, and Jamie. Sam is not present. However, Linda Griffin, Sandi's mother, can be seen approaching in the distance. Finally, Sandi crashes. Linda comes running up with an alarmed look on her face.)
LINDA (agitated): Sandi? Sandi? Are you all right?
SANDI (getting up to her feet): Mom? I'm surprised to see you.
LINDA: When you told me you'd taken up skating again, I had no idea you were doing something so dangerous! I don't ever want to you to skate on that --- that thing --- again!
SANDI: It's called a vert, Mom.
LINDA: Whatever it's called, you are forbidden to skate on it from now one.
SANDI (astonished): What? Why?
LINDA: You've already had your leg broken once. I won't let that happen to you again.
SANDI: Mom, be reasonable! That was an accident. I'm in control of this.
LINDA: I saw you fall, Sandi. Don't tell me you're in control.
SANDI: But I'm wearing a helmet, elbow pads, knee pads.
AMY: Mrs. Griffin, don't worry about Sandi. She's a great talent ---
LINDA (interrupting Amy): And just who are you, little girl?
AMY (irritated): I'm Amy. I know Sandi from school. I'm training her on the v ---
LINDA (interrupts Amy again): You stay out of this! (to Sandi) Give me the skates, Sandi.
SANDI (arms on hips): No way!
LINDA (angry): Are you defying me?
SANDI: Yeah, I'm defying you. You've always let me skate before.
LINDA: That was before you went and broke your leg.
SANDI: That had nothing to do with ---
LINDA (interrupts): How dare you argue with me!!! Give me your skates and get in the car.
SANDI (indignant): What? (shouts) NO!!!
LINDA: Sandi, you're being a perfect baby about this. Stop making a scene and get in the car.
SANDI (calmer): No.
LINDA (barely in control of her temper): Get --- in --- the car --- Sandi.
SANDI (quietly, but with great intensity): No.
LINDA (crosses arms): Very well, Sandi. You leave me no choice. Don't come home.
SANDI: Don't come home? What does that mean?
LINDA: It means you will not eat or sleep in the Griffin family house until you put an end to this skating nonsense! (She begins to walk away. She now speaks without looking back.) If you think I'm bluffing, try me!
SANDI (calling after her): You know what, Mom? I'm not bluffing either!
AMY (to Sandi): Warrior, that was a brave thing you did. You became homeless for the sake of skating.
SANDI: Thanks, but I'm kind of scared right now.
AMY: I can put you up at my Dad's place for a few days, till this blows over.
SANDI (touched): Thanks, Amy. You're a real friend.
AMY (jocular): But, Warrior, I don't dress the way they do in Waif!
SANDI (in a low, serious voice): This is more important than clothes.
SUPER: TO BE CONTINUED.
FADE OUT