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: