INT. MEDIA CLOISTERS. NIGHT.
 
SUBTITLE: ONE MONTH LATER - OCTOBER, 2003.
 
Late Friday night -- in fact, it’s technically early Saturday morning. The media cloisters’ lights are the only ones on in the whole library. Sheila stands over Bill at a computer holding a bag of Pirates’ Booty.
 
SHEILA
Holy shit, Bill! This looks really pro.
 
BILL
See the contact bar?
 
SHEILA
It's perfect. Maybe that’ll be a better
way to attract contributors.
 
BILL
I think anything would be more compelling
than me outside the cafeteria.
 
SHEILA
(laughing)
You made a really noble effort. And yeah,
this is great. It’s... I think people will
really be into this. So...
 
BILL
(motioning to the mouse)
Wanna do the honors?
 
Sheila takes the mouse and clicks. The glow of the screen reflected on their faces changes color.
 
BILL (CONT’D)
(reading)
“Your site is now available to the public.”
 
SHEILA
(laughing)
Woohoo! Sorry for being so rigid about the
deadline on this... I just really think more
people will read it if I can send out an
email about it Saturday. But yeah, thanks
for giving up your Friday night.
 
She’s said that about ten times tonight and every time Bill has had the same two thoughts: that he knows of nothing else happening and that, consequently, there’s no place he’d rather be.
 
BILL
My pleasure.
 
SHEILA
I wish we had champagne or something.
 
BILL
I know! We could...
 
He pauses. Is he gonna do this?
 
BILL (CONT’D)
Get a drink?
 
He can see Sheila take pause and undergo the same exact thought process as his: reluctance, and then dismissal of that reluctance. Why not?
 
CUT TO:
 
INT. O'DOHERTY'S. A LITTLE LATER.
 
A kitschy Irish pub and popular Eastover watering hole, though it’s not too crowded tonight. Bill and Sheila sit at a booth by the window, where the bar is at its quietest. A pitcher of beer sits between them.
 
SHEILA
Guess.
 
BILL
Um... Hmm. I’m gonna say... You do have
a sibling, and it’s a... brother.
 
SHEILA
Go on?
 
BILL
He’s... younger. You’re an older sister
to a younger brother.
 
SHEILA
I do have a brother. But he’s an older
brother. But I am an older sister. To a
younger sister.
 
BILL
Oh, damn. Middle child?
 
SHEILA
Yep. I’m such a middle child. Really
low-maintenance, really high-achieving...
 
BILL
(laughing)
Really modest...
 
She laughs too.
 
SHEILA
Really defensive. Okay, I’m gonna guess
yours. You must have an older sister.
 
Bill raises two fingers.
 
BILL
Two older sisters.
 
SHEILA
Of course. That’s the only explanation.
 
BILL
Only explanation of what?
 
SHEILA
Of... like... You being nice.
 
She laughs.
 
BILL
Hey, I give myself some credit for that.
 
SHEILA
(laughing again)
Eh... So am I right about the middle
child thing? Is your middle sister like
that?
 
BILL
Low-maintenance and high-achieving?
 
SHEILA
Yeah.
 
BILL
Um... She’s definitely high-achieving...
Um... She has a mental illness, though, and
it wasn’t diagnosed until my junior year,
when shit sort of hit the fan, so I wouldn’t
necessarily say she was the low-lyer in my
family. But I guess that's different.
 
SHEILA
Oh. I’m sorry.
 
BILL
No, please! It’s not something to be sorry
about.
 
SHEILA
Yeah.
 
An awkward beat.
 
BILL
So okay, you grew up in Pittsburgh and...
And you wanna be a... journalist?
 
SHEILA
Editor is the dream. I mean, I’ll see what’s,
y’know, possible, but... Yeah, being the
editor of a publication is what I really want.
 
BILL
Makes sense. You’re really good at it.
 
SHEILA
(beaming)
Thanks. Yeah, um, y’know, it’s funny...
 
Her tone has turned confessional. Bill looks up attentively.
 
SHEILA (CONT’D)
Ugh, I can’t believe I’m getting into this
again -- this is the last time I’m talking
to someone about this.
(laughing nervously)
Basically, I just -- I’m a very ambitious
person, as you can probably tell, and I don’t
know if you remember the drama I alluded to at
the first Herald meeting? Because I’m an idiot?
 
BILL
I do... 
 
SHEILA
(again laughing nervously)
Yeah. Clearly I... have a problem. But
anyway, so the people who wanted the editor
job -- the rising seniors who quit the
staff -- those were my best friends.
 
Bill raises an eyebrow.
 
SHEILA (CONT’D)
Yeah, it’s fucked. It was really messy. I
felt bad; it was just -- like, this is
what I really, really want to do in the
world; I know it is. And no one’s ever
gotten to manage the Herald two years in a
row; I feel like there’s so much you can do
with it in that amount of time. For them it
was just, like, on a whim, maybe something
to put on job applications. They’d only even
been on staff one semester. So I felt
affronted too, y’know? They know what this
is for me. So I claimed the position, and
rightfully, I think, but...
 
A beat. She shrugs somewhat sadly.
 
SHEILA (CONT’D)
They haven’t talked to me since.
 
Another beat. “She’s so beautiful,” Bill thinks. Her dedication is so exciting to him, the force of her will is so inspiring to him. And she's kind -- she listens to him. She’s so beautiful.
 
BILL
I think you did the right thing.
 
SHEILA
Yeah?
 
BILL
Yeah! They’ll get over it. They
couldn’t’ve handled the work anyway.
 
SHEILA
(nodding)
Fact.
 
BILL
And you... you clearly have such a vision for
this. I think you needed to take it.
 
Sheila nods, sighing.
 
SHEILA
Thank you. Thanks. I needed to hear that.
 
She drinks the last of her beer and refills her glass.
 
BILL
Ooh, okay, I have another guess.
 
SHEILA
Yeah?
 
He points at her.
 
BILL
Valedictorian.
 
She throws her head back laughs. He’s right.
 
SHEILA
That’s fucked up that you guessed that.
Well, okay.
(pointing)
Valedictorian. Takes one to know one.
 
BILL
Nope.
 
Sheila cracks up. Bill doesn’t join her -- he’s about to add something: “I was supposed to be, but...” But he stops himself.
 
SHEILA
What?
BILL
What?
 
SHEILA
You looked like you were gonna say
something.
 
BILL
I wasn’t! Good guess, though.
 
Sheila laughs again. This time Bill joins her.
 
SHEILA
Dammit!  
 
CUT TO:
 
EXT. SCHENCK HALL. A LITTLE LATER.
 
Sheila walks Bill back to his dorm. They’re just arriving at the front doors.
 
SHEILA
Ah, Schenck Hall. The black sheep of the
Eastover residential family.
 
BILL
Don’t remind me.
 
SHEILA
It’s not that bad.
 
BILL
It’s pretty fucking bad.
 
SHEILA
It’s not that bad.
 
BILL
It’s pretty fucking bad.
 
He's stalling.
 
SHEILA
Well, I hope you can get over it, ‘cause
you’re gonna have to go inside.
 
BILL
Can I do something first?
 
SHEILA
Yeah?
 
He kisses her. They pull apart and he looks at her a bit nervously. Was that okay? As if to answer his question she shrugs. He’s trying to figure out what she’s thinking when she kisses him back.
 
CUT TO: