The Teenage Tell-Tale.

The Teenage Outcast: A Scene.

School, school building, back to school, yard, school yard, schoolyard,  high school, exterior, education, building, empty, entrance, windows,  elementary school, bascketball, canada, ottawa, front, structure, sky,  wall, schoolhouse, golden hour, brick wall,

The 8th grade class is spending their lunch period in the schoolyard, enjoying the warm weather that May brings. All of the cliques hang out with each other; the jocks are playing basketball, the unpopular kids are minding their business, and Milo and his friends are hanging out at their favorite bench near the grass. Davy and Ronnie are playing soccer in the grass, Jonah is drawing in his sketchbook, and Mollie is laying down on the grass near the bench. Milo twirls around his drumsticks, staring into space.

Mollie: So, it’s like they didn’t even know that it was there in the first place!

Without having Milo react to her story, Mollie sits up and looks at Milo.

Mollie: Hello? Earth to Milo?

Milo widen his eyes and looks at Mollie, clearly distracted.

Milo: Huh?

Mollie: *annoyed* I swear you never listen to me anymore. What’s the point of talking to you if you’re just gonna tune me out?

Milo: I’m just…

Milo notices Sophie walking in the schoolyard by herself. She sits by herself under the bleachers.

Milo: I just have some things on my mind.

Milo gets up and gathers his things.

Mollie: Where are you going?

Milo: Music room.

Mollie: Why? It’s mad nice outside and there’s nothing to practice for anymore.

Milo doesn’t respond, he walks away to walk inside back to the school. Mollie shakes her head and gets up to sit at the bench. Davy and Ronnie watch what’s going on.

Ronnie: Is he alright?

Mollie: He’s been like this forever, I don’t know what his problem is.

Milo enters one of the music rooms and takes out his drumsticks. He sits at the drum set and looks down at them. He begins to let out his anger by banging on the drums. Moments later, there’s a knock heard on the door. He gets up to opens it.

Simon: Look, some of us are–

He stops once he sees Milo.

Simon: Ah, makes sense. I knew I wasn’t hearing actual music.

Milo: Fuck off, Simon.

Simon: *laughs* Damn, not even a “hi, go away”? Harsh. I should expect it; I did kiss your little precious Soph.

Milo gets angry, his hands are in fists.

Milo: Yeah, and got the whole school to hate her, even her own friends.

Simon: Man, you know Laurie and the rest of them were not her friends. She must’ve told you how she really felt about them.

Milo: So you use her to prove a point? You used to be her best friend.

Simon: Does that bother you that we were? I mean, she didn’t think twice about kissing me back at prom.

Milo tries his hardest to keep his composure.

Milo: Just get the hell out of here, man.

Simon: You’re right. I should go find Sophie again and spend my lunch with her, she is a good kisser…

Milo swings at Simon and they begin fighting in the hallway. Simon pushes Milo off of him and fights him back.

Simon: Who the fuck do you think you’re messing with?

Milo: Leave her the fuck alone!

Milo swings at him and they begin fighting again. Security guards are alerted and run down the West Wing to separate the boys. Simon has a bloody nose; Milo with a busted up lip.

It’s English class and the students walk into the classroom at the start of the period. Sophie is seen sitting by herself, a place where she didn’t sit before. Mollie comes in and sits in the seat that she would sit next to Milo in. Once the bell rings, Laurie looks around for Simon; Mollie looks around for Milo.

Mollie: *turns around* Yo, have you seen Milo?

Ronnie shakes her head no, and Mollie turns back to face forward. The teacher opens the class by taking attendance.

Teacher: Simon Hempstead?

No answer. She calls out for Simon once more, but there’s no answer. She marks him “absent”.

Teacher: Milo Kamalani?

No answer. The teacher, now frustrated, takes her glasses off and directs her talk towards the class.

Teacher: Listen, I get that school ends in a month and a half and you guys graduate, but that’s not an excuse to skip my class, or anyone’s class for that matters. On this section sheet, it says these two were in class earlier; does anyone know where they are now?

The class doesn’t say anything. Mollie sneakily takes out her phone to text Milo.

molscastro: yo, where r u?

She puts her phone back in her pocket and looks around the room.

At the other side of the classroom, Sophie keeps her head down towards the desk. Laurie leans forward in her desk and says something loud enough to her friends so that Sophie hears it as well.

Laurie: Someone should be asking Slutphie about Simon; I bet she knows where he’s hiding.

Sophie shuts her eyes and turns around and gets up from her seat and faces Laurie.

Sophie: You know what, Laurie? Maybe if you were to get your bloody head out of your own bum and cared about the people around you, then maybe every boyfriend you have wouldn’t be running to other girls.

Laurie: Excuse me?

Sophie: You’re not excused.

Mollie watches the interaction from her desk, jaw dropping and in shock.

Laurie: You don’t know what you’re talking about.

Sophie: Instead of worrying about other people and what they are doing, you might want to to care about your own screw ups and stop blaming everyone else why shit doesn’t go the way you want them to go.

Teacher: That’s enough, Sophie! Principal’s office, now!

Sophie grabs her bookbag and storms out of the classroom. Mollie watches, still in shock.

Ronnie: *leans forward* Looks like Sophie saw through all the bullshit.

Mollie doesn’t say anything, she just ponders in thought.

Leave a Reply

Fill in your details below or click an icon to log in:

WordPress.com Logo

You are commenting using your WordPress.com account. Log Out /  Change )

Google photo

You are commenting using your Google account. Log Out /  Change )

Twitter picture

You are commenting using your Twitter account. Log Out /  Change )

Facebook photo

You are commenting using your Facebook account. Log Out /  Change )

Connecting to %s