God-Awful Teen Movie Script Bit

The Wanna-Be
By Catie Osborn

Scene 1: Alarm clock sounds. Good Charlotte’s “The Anthem” comes on. Cut to two feet swinging out of bed onto a floor strewn with clothes, papers and the bottom of a guitar. At Cue, Voiceover begins.

Voice (JACK)
My name is Jack Milester

Throughout entire introduction, a boy (JACK) is getting dressed in full punk attire and going through his morning routine.

JACK (VO)
I am your typical middle-class kid. Except for one thing–I have no place.

Cut to JACK coming out of his home. He grabs a skateboard from the porch and proceeds down the walk. He attempts to do a trick on the curb and falls flat on his back. The camera pulls up in an arial shot as JACK continues speaking.

JACK (VO)
So this is the story of my life–I got to school, go to work, and I don’t belong anywhere.

CUT to large, grassy commons of a high school-different group of students mill around, never interacting.

JACK (VO)
So this is my high school. John Adams high. It’s okay. I mean, we’ve never had any thing interesting happen, but we survive. It’s a typical high school with your typical cliques.

(As each group is names, a shot of each one is shown)

JACK (VO)
In fourth grade, my teacher brought in an ant colony. The ants all had a specific purpose. Food gatherer, soldier, queen, stuff like that. The way I see it, these cliques all support each other, but never really interact. They keep to themselves and are hesitant to let an outsider in. We first have the Jocks. Self explanatory. Next, we have the cheerleaders as sub clique of the popular kids. These are the people who rule the school. And believe me-it doesn’t matter who you are or what you do. Because for no matter how long, even for a moment, you’ve wondered what it’s like. You’ve wanted to be them. You want to have admirers, attention–you want to be the guy everyone cheers for as you score the wining baskets, and you want to be the girl every guy would kill to date.

Camera pans over to separate area of the commons. Here, the groups mentioned below are shot as before.

JACK (VO)
Next, we have the untouchables–so called because you are either in or you’re out. You can’t be a deep dark poet and be a jock. It just doesn’t work. The poets and drama kids are the mysterious  ones. No one understands their poetry or their photographs, and everyone knows they really don’t like coffee, but they put up with them because one might just be the next Longfellow. The nerds are my personal favorite–not because they’re fun to beat up, but because they’re the kids with an actual future, and they’re the ones with their heads in the toilet most of the time. The bullies, stoners, gangstas and posers are all so names because its exactly what they are. Here, some intermix, but everyone else stays away.
Then there are the gifted few with the tale of total acceptance–no matter what they do, each group accepts them as their own. They fit in as well with the poet as they do with the punks.
Shot of  group of beautiful girls.

JACK (VO)
That’s her.

Camera pans around girls to another girl, sitting by picnic table in a wheelchair, reading a book.

JACK (VO)
No, she isn’t a supermodel. But she’s perfect.

We finally see JACK’s face. He heads towards the girl. It’s obvious that he’s nervous and socially akward. The girl spots him and smiles.

EMILY
Hey Jack!

EMILY smiles and wheels away.

JACK (VO)
She knows every student by name. Girls are complicated beings, aren’t they/ they pretend to like you, or pretend to hate you, or laugh instead of cry or cry instead of laugh….it’s like they do exactly the opposite.

Bell rings and students start to go into the school.

JACK (VO)
(As he talks, camera follows JACK into school and to his locker!)

We are about to venture into the realm of high school. High school is a crazy thing. People tell us that high school is the best time in our lives –but then why is it so damn boring? And you’ve have to find your place right away, or you’ll be branded as the weird kid all four years, and then you’re screwed. I’ve tried nearly every group–but it just didn’t feel right. I can’t play sports, I can’t act, I can’t skateboard, I failed poetry last year and I’m socially akward.

A s

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