Popular (Script)

To read the description for this episode, go to Popular.

Script
'''Pre-intro scene, LOGAN’s bedroom. HE’s lying on HIS bed, on FaceTime with ARTIE.'''

LOGAN: I just… It sucks, Artie! Every day, it’s ‘Oh, have you heard from Artie? Have you heard how well he’s doing? He’s a world-famous director now, Logan!’

ARTIE: That’s definitely an exaggeration.

LOGAN: I know. But, you’re all they talk about! What do I have to do, to make them care about me?

ARTIE: They do, Lo. I promise. They’ve just got a funny way of showing it. Besides, the way to get the same attention is to be in a wheelchair. You don’t want that.

LOGAN: Definitely not. It just doesn’t seem fair. Not that I resent you getting attention, but—

ARTIE: No, I know. You just want it to be equal. It isn’t fair. I hate it too, buddy. I’m a grown man, I don’t need them checking up on me so much. It’s annoying, when I’m in meetings.

LOGAN: Then, turn your phone off.

ARTIE: I do. They call the studio instead!

LOGAN laughs.

ARTIE: It’ll get better, kiddo.

LOGAN: You don’t know that.

ARTIE: Of course I do. I’m magical, remember?

LOGAN: That doesn’t work anymore. Do I look 6?

ARTIE: No, you certainly do not. You’re too tall, I hate it.

LOGAN: Me too, I keep hitting my head.

ARTIE: How did that happen so fast? I haven’t been gone for that long, have I?

LOGAN: It feels like an eternity. You know, I thought that you moving out would make them pay a little more attention to me.

ARTIE: And, it didn’t, huh? Not at all?

LOGAN: Not one tiny bit. I can barely get a hello and goodbye. Okay, that’s not fair. They aren’t THAT bad. But, still.

ARTIE: It’s okay, you know I get it. Hey, aren’t you meant to be getting ready for school?

LOGAN: Oh, shit, yeah. Call me tonight?

ARTIE: Of course!

'''LOGAN hangs up, and starts rushing to get ready. HE stops in front of the mirror, and examines HIS appearance, unimpressed. HE kicks HIS schoolbag, and makes HIS way downstairs, slamming the door.'''

LOGAN: He hit the ground running,

At the speed of light.

The star was brightly shining,

Like a neon light.

It's your favourite son.

It's your favourite son.

A fixture on the talk shows,

To the silver screen.

From here to Colorado,

He's a sex machine.

It's your favourite son.

It's your favourite son.

But isn't it a drag?

Isn't it a drag?

Isn't it a drag?

It's pretty bloody sad,

But isn't it a drag?

A clean-cut All-American,

Really ain't so clean.

His royal auditorium,

Is a murder scene.

It's your favourite son.

It's your favourite son.

Oh, isn't it a drag?

Isn't it a drag?

Isn't it a drag?

It's pretty bloody sad,

But isn't it a drag?

Well no one says it's fair.

Turn a teenage lush,

To a millionaire.

Now where's your fuckin' champion?

On a bed you laid.

He's not the All-American,

That you thought you paid.

It's your favourite son.

It's your favourite son.

But isn't it a drag?

Having successfully got past every room without HIS parents spotting HIM, HE walks out the front door, slamming it behind HIM. '''Scene 1, IVAN’s classroom. LIAM watches, listlessly, barely staying awake.'''

IVAN: Now, what did Shakespeare mean by ‘all the world’s a stage’? Liam, what do you think?

LIAM shrugs.

LIAM: I don’t know, Mr. Pierce.

IVAN: You sure? Well, okay… Anyone?

SKY: Everyone’s an actor, playing an assigned role every day.

IVAN: Yeah, perfect. What’s yours?

SKY: Token minority?

IVAN: [Laughing] Okay! Not ‘student’?

SKY: Nope. Just a deaf queer.

VALERIE: Can you not say that word?

SKY: I’m sorry, is my identity uncomfortable for you?

VALERIE: Uncle— Mr. Pierce, can’t you stop him—

IVAN: Alright, alright, that’s enough. I’m not gonna police what language people use for themselves, and we’re not going to debate this. I say it’s been reclaimed, so, it’s his right. I’m sorry if anyone disagrees with that.

LYRA: I’m always acting. Pretending to be a girl, in front of some people. Pretending I don’t want to fight everyone…

IVAN: Right. I sympathise. I also have to pretend I don’t wanna fight people. I have to pretend to like you guys.

The class laugh.

IVAN: I’m kidding. Of all my classes, you’re definitely… One of them.

QUENTIN: It’s okay, we know you’re not allowed to tell us the truth. That we’re your favourites.

IVAN: You wish.

SKY glances to LIAM, who’s now asleep at HIS desk.

SKY: Mr. Pierce?

IVAN follows HIS gaze, and nods in acknowledgement.

IVAN: So, what were the seven stages of life, according to Shakespeare? Anyone remember? Without checking, Magnolia. Nobody? Come on, you read it, didn’t you?

'''VIOLA starts to put HER hand up, but stops HERSELF. IVAN catches HER eye.'''

IVAN: No one at all?

Silence, until the bell rings.

IVAN: Alright, we’ll go over that on Wednesday. Get out of my sight.

'''The class leave. IVAN perches on the edge of LIAM’s desk.'''

IVAN: Liam? Hey… You asleep? You’ve gotta get to Math, kiddo…

LIAM blinks up at HIM, thoroughly confused.

IVAN: Back with us, I see. You alright? This isn’t like you.

LIAM: I’m fine.

IVAN: Did you get enough sleep?

LIAM: Does it look like it? I was up all night, thinking about—

IVAN: Yeah?

LIAM: Nothing. Just… Thinking. God, I don’t know what to do!

IVAN: Talking might help.

LIAM: Not with this. I can’t.

IVAN: Alright, if you’re sure. Well, you know my door’s always open, in the metaphorical sense.

LIAM: Yeah…

IVAN: Have you got the homework?

LIAM: Uh-huh.

HE rummages around in HIS bag.

LIAM: Oh, shit!

IVAN: Not there? Don’t worry about it, it’s fine. Get it to me tomorrow, and we’ll say no more about it.

LIAM: Thank you so much.

IVAN: Are you gonna be alright?

LIAM: Yeah, I’ll be fine.

HE stands, and starts to leave.

IVAN: At least there’s Glee Club, right? That’ll make everything a little better.

LIAM stops in HIS tracks, realisation dawning.

LIAM: Uh, I don’t know about that… I might give it a miss today, actually, if that’s alright. I don’t know if I can face… It.

IVAN: You of all people? Liam, I wish you’d tell me what’s going on. I’d ask if you were getting sick, but you’ve been like this for a week and a half, and I’m worried about you.

LIAM: Don’t be.

IVAN: Well, you’re not making that easy on me.

LIAM: Oh, well, I’m terribly sorry(!)

IVAN: Hey, I just want to help.

LIAM: I know. I don’t need your help, Mr. Pierce. Not this time, anyway. No one can help me, now.

IVAN: If you say so, kid. You’d better get to Math.

LIAM: Oh, God, I’m late!

IVAN: That’s okay, Mr. Larson won’t mind.

LIAM: But, what if—

IVAN: He won’t. He’s my friend, I know him. Do you want a note, anyway, saying that it’s my fault for keeping you?

LIAM: Is that okay?

IVAN: It’s always okay.

HE walks to HIS desk.

LIAM: Don’t you have a class?

IVAN: Nah, free period.

LIAM: So, you’re just gonna grade papers?

IVAN: Seemingly.

LIAM: Seemingly?

IVAN: I’ll look like I’m grading papers, naturally. But, I’m actually gonna work on music theory. I’ve got a test coming up.

LIAM: YOU have a test? Oh, how the tables have turned.

IVAN: I know, right? Still, if I ever wanna teach music…

LIAM: If you ever leave McKinley, you know I’ll riot, right?

IVAN: I know. I’d miss you too, kiddo. Don’t worry, we’re talking the very distant future, if at all. Anyway, we’re

getting way off track. Here’s your note, and I’ll see you at lunch.

LIAM: Yep. I might be a little late, Tobias is giving me a little extra help with choreo, because I was late yesterday.

IVAN: Alright, that’s great! Take as long as you need, as long as you still have time to eat.

LIAM: You worry too much.

IVAN: Now, there’s something I never thought I’d be accused of. Go on, get out of here.

LIAM laughs, and exits. '''Scene 2, in the halls. BETH’s leaning against HER locker, watching as girls, mostly fellow Cheerios, fawn over RICKY. RICKY’s only politely interested in them.'''

RICKY: Wh— An autograph? Seriously? No, Stephanie, I can’t sign those, we’re in the middle of the halls…

QUENTIN: So, after the ball-change, should we— Beth, are you listening to me?

BETH: Huh? Yeah, sorry, Quen! After the ball-change…?

QUENTIN: After that, should we… Alright, you’re not listening.

HE follows HER gaze, and rolls HIS eyes, fondly.

QUENTIN: Of course… Wow, someone’s popular.

BETH: [Unconvincingly] Who?

QUENTIN: Our dearest dumbass, Mr. Vincent.

BETH: Huh, I never noticed…

QUENTIN: Didn’t you? Anyway, we can talk about the dance later, I’ll ask Misty. Or, failing that, Sky and Tobias.

BETH: Uh-huh… Tobias is a really good dancer, isn’t he? Who would have thought?

QUENTIN: Well, the poor guy’s gotta have something, beyond being a living, breathing doormat.

BETH: Guess so…

'''RICKY catches BETH’s eye, and HIS face lights up. BETH smiles, but quickly looks away, leaving RICKY disappointed.'''

ISABEL: Corcoran!

BETH: Yes, Coach?

ISABEL: There’s an extra practice today, after school. Be there.

BETH: But, Coach, I have arrangements to work on, for Glee, and—

ISABEL: Well, make arrangements to reschedule that!

BETH: Yes, Coach…

QUENTIN: I’ll handle Glee, don’t worry.

Pan to across the hall, where AUBRI and LIAM are.

AUBRI: Poor Beth. She doesn’t have it easy!

LIAM: Yeah…

Pan further, to reveal LIAM watching DAMIEN, also surrounded by Cheerios.

AUBRI: Hey… You okay?

LIAM: Am I— Oh! Yeah, I’m fine, babe, don’t worry. You’re so sweet…

HE smiles, with guilt in HIS eyes, and kisses HER.

LIAM: I love you… Always will. But, just to make sure I never forget, for even a second…

HE pulls out a pen.

LIAM: Draw another heart?

AUBRI: [Amused] Alright, cutie.

SHE draws a heart on HIS arm, and glances up, catching DAMIEN’s eye.

AUBRI: How about three?

LIAM: Even better.

AUBRI smirks, as SHE draws.

AUBRI: There. All done, hon!

LIAM: Perfect. You’re perfect. Thank you.

HE kisses HER, yet again.

AUBRI: You’re very welcome… You wanna come over tonight?

LIAM: I’d love to.

'''DAMIEN starts to approach the two. AUBRI moves, so SHE’s between HIM and LIAM.'''

LIAM: Are you sure it’ll be okay?

AUBRI: Of course, baby! My family loves you.

LIAM: Really? Well, great!

ISABEL: Russo!

DAMIEN quickly steps away from them.

DAMIEN: Coach, yes, Coach!

LIAM bites back a smile.

ISABEL: Extra practice, after school. Be there, or I’ll hang you from the highest available coat hook by your hair, which, by the way, looks like something in-between a nest, and Julia Roberts’ natural hair. Get it cut, or I’ll do it myself, while you’re on the coat hook.

AUBRI: Wow. Liam, we should get going.

LIAM: Well, I admire your enthusiasm for Chemistry, but I still have to get the textbook out of my locker. Which Damien’s being backed into as we speak.

AUBRI: Right. Great…

Abrupt pan back to BETH.

BETH: Quentin, I have a crush on Ricky.

QUENTIN: Yep.

BETH: What?

QUENTIN: Wh— This is news to you?

BETH: Well… Yeah! I didn’t know until now! Did you?

QUENTIN: Beth. Honey. How can I put this…?

HE places HIS hands on HER shoulders.

QUENTIN: Basically everyone knows, except for you and Ricky. Hell, my mom knows.

BETH: Wh— You told Delilah?

QUENTIN: No, honey, she figured it out for herself. It’s not hard.

BETH: She hasn’t even met Ricky!

QUENTIN: You talk about him so much that she may as well have.

BETH: Who the hell else knows?

OPHELIA: I do.

TOBIAS: Yeah, me too.

RANDOM FRESHER: Uh, me too. '''Scene 3, in Music. LIAM’s scribbling something under HIS keyboard, while ALFIE, the (English) Music teacher, talks to the class.'''

ALFIE: —Do you have no appreciation for classic rock? Brent, you’re an absolute heathen. I’m ashamed. You have the audacity to call yourself a rock star? You play a tiny drumkit, in a tiny bar, barely adequately. I’d know, I drink there. And, I’m willing to bet you’ve never listened to a single piece of classical music in your short, sad little life. It’s bad enough that I have freshman girls going on about… Whatever her name is. Car-something.

AUBRI: …Cardi B, Mr. Winstanley?

ALFIE: That’s the one. What sort of a name is that? What’s it short for? Cardigan Bardigan?

LIAM gives a tiny smirk, still scribbling.

ALFIE: Dear God, give me some students with taste… That’s it. I’m making a playlist, and you will listen to it. That’s your homework, now. Except, you need to provide proof.

QUENTIN’s eyes light up, as he looks up from his composition.

QUENTIN: [Softly] Oh, this couldn’t be better…

ALFIE: I’m glad you approve… Quentin, is it?

QUENTIN: The one and only.

ALFIE: Hardly, I know 7.

QUENTIN: Well, you’re English. As far as this school goes… The one and only, drink me in.

BRENT, PROBABLY: Kinky.

QUENTIN: How would you know?

ALFIE bites back a grin, as BRENT(?) shrinks into HIS seat.

ALFIE: I’ll pretend I didn’t hear a word of that.

BRENT: You going deaf, old man?

'''SKY signs something deeply inappropriate at HIM, and LYRA laughs, being one of the few who knows what it means. QUENTIN smirks, just a little. ALFIE conveniently turns, to write a song list on the whiteboard, and the class goes back to what they were doing.'''

ALFIE: Please tell me you’ve all heard of at least half of these.

VALERIE: Mr. Winstanley, I couldn’t possibly listen to those.

ALFIE: No? Why not?

VALERIE: Well, they’re not very Christian.

ALFIE: Yes, well, I’m not such a fan of What a Friend We Have in Jesus. What’s so un-Christian about it?

VALERIE: For a start, your beloved Freddie Mercury was…

ALFIE: What, bisexual?

VALERIE: Well… Yes.

ALFIE: Mm. Do you know that the only part of the Bible that’s supposedly against such a thing was mistranslated?

VIOLA glances up, startled.

VALERIE: What? That— That’s impossible.

ALFIE: Yet true, so it must be possible.

VALERIE: You’re wrong… It’s wrong!

VIOLA stares at HER, hurt, but unsurprised, then turns to stare back at HER keyboard.

VALERIE: You’re a Music teacher, how would you know?

QUENTIN: His father was a pastor, or something like it. He might know better than you do.

ALFIE: I’m surprised you remember. Yes, precisely. I… Can’t say I hate to break it to you, but there it is. Freddie Mercury was a legend, and the fact that anyone would condemn him for who he loved is… Sickening. You…

HE gestures towards LIAM.

ALFIE: What’s your name again?

LIAM: Uh… Liam?

ALFIE: [Delightedly] Liam! Thank God, someone with a sensible name! I was beginning to think they were dying out in America.

LIAM: They are.

ALFIE: Point taken. Now, on to my point. You’re not really listening to me, are you, Liam?

LIAM: I am. Freddie Mercury was, uh… He was bi, and Valerie’s wrong.

ALFIE: …In essence, yes. Still, it doesn’t seem like you’re listening. What are you doing?

LIAM: Homework.

ALFIE: It doesn’t look much like composition.

LIAM: Well, it’s algebra, so that might be why.

ALFIE: Hm. [Out of nowhere] What key is Bohemian Rhapsody in?

LIAM: B-flat major.

ALFIE: What?

LIAM: What? Was I… Wrong?

ALFIE: No, no… I don’t think so, anyway. I didn’t expect you to answer, and you caught me off-guard, that’s all.

LIAM: Like you were trying to do to me. Is that on the curriculum?

ALFIE: It should be. Scaring the… Hell out of children with the audacity to do maths of all things in my class. Who’s your teacher?

LIAM: Mr. Larson.

ALFIE: Right… How did you know that?

LIAM: Well, he teaches me every—

ALFIE: No, not that. The key signature.

LIAM: Music’s kind of my thing. Showtunes, mostly, but who doesn’t love Queen?

ALFIE smiles, approvingly.

LIAM: I learned it from Glee Club.

ALFIE: I see…

BRENT, PROBABLY: [Through fake coughs] Nerd.

'''Most of the class laugh, as LIAM stares determinedly down at HIS desk, humiliated. ALFIE turns to the offender, unimpressed.'''

ALFIE: You should get that cough checked. Thank you, Liam, you’re doing very well. Put the homework away, I need students like you to willingly contribute. Ones with a brain, who care about what they’re doing, and actually have something useful to say.

LIAM does as HE’s told, grinning. '''Scene 4, the freshmen’s History class. BLUE exchanges a glance with SEPTEMBER, and raises HIS eyebrows. SEPTEMBER grins back at HIM, and pretends to fall asleep. BLUE starts writing a note.'''

BLUE: I'm crawling on the dance floor

I think I lost my phone

Feeling like a toothache

My face is going numb

I beg a thousand pardons

All my friends are crazy

Hanging from a window

And all you gotta do is jump

Come meet me on the roof tonight girl

Oh, oh, oh, oh

How high is your low gonna go girl?

Oh, oh, oh, oh

Come meet me on the roof tonight

Oh, oh, oh, oh

How high is your low gonna go girl?

'''HE pokes HER with a pencil, and passes HER the note. SHE starts writing a reply.'''

BLUE: I'm hanging with the fellas

Cruising down the strip

Sleeping with a pillow

Waking up in spit

I'm taking drowning lessons

Secret words and true confessionals,

SEPTEMBER passes HIM the note.

BLUE & SEPTEMBER: And now the worst is yet to come

Come meet me on the roof tonight girl

Oh, oh, oh, oh

How high is your low gonna go girl?

Oh, oh, oh, oh

Come meet me on the roof tonight

Oh, oh, oh, oh

How high is your low gonna go girl?

BLUE throws a paper aeroplane at HER.

BLUE & SEPTEMBER: So meet me where the good times go, ooh-ooh

''How high is your low? As far as I can go''

Come meet me on the roof tonight girl

Oh, oh, oh, oh

How high is your low gonna go girl?

Oh, oh, oh, oh

Come meet me on the roof tonight

Oh, oh, oh, oh

How high is your low gonna go girl?

BLUE: I’ll see you there.

SEPTEMBER: [Grinning] Isn’t it against the rules?

BLUE: Since when have we cared about that?

SEPTEMBER: Well, I have Photography Club.

BLUE: I thought today was Jazz Band.

SEPTEMBER: Yeah, I’m doing both.

BLUE: Well, what’s tomorrow?

SEPTEMBER: Drama.

BLUE: Ember, what are you trying to prove, with all this?

SEPTEMBER: I dunno what you’re talking about.

BLUE: Yes, you do.

SEPTEMBER: Look, I’ve gotta get my name out there, haven’t I?

BLUE: No, you don’t. We don’t need to be popular, remember?

SEPTEMBER: Well, maybe you don’t. Popularity brings happiness. Look at Beth Corcoran. And Ricky!

BLUE: Ricky’s happy because he lives in blissful ignorance. Look at Ophelia. Do you think she’s happy?

SEPTEMBER: No, but only because she’s not more popular. Look at Logan!

LOGAN glances over, briefly.

SEPTEMBER: Lo, would you be happier if you were popular?

LOGAN: Ouch. But.. Yeah, kinda. It’d be nice to not get slushied. I miss not being freezing and… Sticky, all the time.

BLUE: God, true. I’m always sticky, and not in the fun way. Look. My shoes stick to the floor.

HE demonstrates.

SEPTEMBER: Well, at least you don’t have it in your bra.

BLUE: How do you know?

SEPTEMBER: I know you don’t wear bras, I’ve seen you shirtless.

LOGAN glances over, eyebrows raised.

SEPTEMBER: Well, we have sleepovers…

BLUE: Sexless sleepovers.

LOGAN: Hot.

SEPTEMBER: Well, who has sex with their friends?

LOGAN: A lot of people.

SEPTEMBER: Do you?

LOGAN: Do I look like I have friends?

BLUE: You’ve got us, man.

LOGAN: Well… Thank you! But, popular friends?

SEPTEMBER: Quentin adores you, Lo.

BLUE: Yeah, maybe too much.

SEPTEMBER: Not like that, he doesn’t go for freshers.

LOGAN: I’ve been to his house. He made spaghetti, and talked to me about my repertoire, and that was all.

BLUE: Were you in his room?

LOGAN: Of course not, he says that’s a terrible place to eat spaghetti. We went there after, and he helped me with choreo. Uh, that’s not a euphemism.

BLUE: Didn’t think so. Do now.

LOGAN: Damn it.

BLUE: I’m not judging, man.

LOGAN: But I’m not—

BLUE: I know, I’m just messing with you. But, now that I think

about it…

LOGAN’s head slams onto the desk. '''Scene 5, the sophomores’ Art class. LIAM’s barely awake, and AUBRI nudges HIM, every so often. QUENTIN’s staring at HIS rehearsal notes, and VIOLA’s distractedly doodling. Close up on HER art, some costume designs for the club. There’s one that SHE’s paying particular attention to, but it’s incomplete.'''

VIOLA: Note to self

Don't be gay here in Ohio

Big heads up,

That's a really stupid plan

There are places where it's in to be out

Maybe San Francisco or there about

But here in Ohio,  without a doubt,

If you're not straight,

then guess what's bound to hit the fan.

SHE looks to VALERIE, longingly.

VIOLA: Just breathe, Viola

Not everyone is that repressed

Just breathe, Viola

It wouldn't be high school without a test

Just close your eyes and count to ten

Go to your happy place, and then

Try not to combust

Just breathe…

A jock throws an eraser at HER head, aiming for QUENTIN.

VIOLA: Note to self

People suck here in Ohio

Leave today

Pray the Greyhound isn’t full

Who knew wanting to ask a girl to the prom

Would go over just like an atom bomb

And make things much worse with your dad and mom

And who'd have ever thought

That could be possible…

I’m never telling her…

Just breathe, Viola

Picture a beach with golden sand

Just breathe, Viola

Picture a Xanax in your hand

Try journaling

Or start a blog

Just end this inner monologue

Seethe, if you must

But just breathe…

SHE stares at VALERIE, intently, as the latter crosses the room to get more paper.

VIOLA: Just breathe, Viola

Remember that thing called oxygen

Just breathe, Viola

Look at the crazy state you’re in

SHE throw the eraser back at the jock.

VIOLA: Just smile and nod

Although they’re jerks

Say namaste and pray it works

And like we’ve discussed

Just breathe…

QUENTIN: What’cha doing there, V?

HE looks over HER shoulder, despite HER weak attempts to stop HIM.

QUENTIN: Oh, those are good! Are they… For the Glee Club?

VIOLA: I guess, maybe? I don’t know, they’re just stupid little doodles, that’s all.

QUENTIN: Incredibly well thought out ‘stupid little doodles’. How long have you been working on those?

VIOLA: Oh, not that long… Just since I joined.

QUENTIN: Viola, honey, that’s nearly a month. We could wear these for Invitationals!

VIOLA: What?! No, that’s… They’re not even finished, and even if they were, they wouldn’t be good, and I can barely even sew.

QUENTIN: You made the dress you’re wearing!

VIOLA: Well, there was nothing else to do that day!

QUENTIN: [With emphasis] Viola. You’ve gotta show these to the club!

VIOLA: Are you kidding? No, no, no, no, no, no, not happening, no—

QUENTIN: Honey? I get the picture. But, we really need costumes, and you’re the only one with the skills.

VIOLA: What skills? I can’t be the only one. Just… Let Ophelia shop for the costumes, she’s unspeakably rich, and she has great taste.

QUENTIN: Oh, I know, I’ve been shopping with her, many times. One of the advantages of being Beth’s pet. Uh, Ophelia’s words.

VIOLA: Right…

QUENTIN: It’s kinda the closest she gets to compliments. But, if you compliment her, she looks a little less likely to kill you, painfully!

VIOLA: Yay?

QUENTIN: Considering who we’re talking about, yeah.

LYRA: You need better friends.

QUENTIN: Oh, she’s not my friend. She’s made that very clear.

LYRA: Right… So, you just have a mutual friend.

QUENTIN: No, not that either.

LYRA/VIOLA: Huh… '''Scene 6, the choir room. SEPTEMBER is not-so-subtly staring at BLUE. SHAWN enters, followed by ALFIE.'''

SHAWN: Well, uh… Look who’s here! Mr. Winstanley’s here to, uh… Observe, and stuff. Yeah.

ALFIE: Snappily put.

JAMES: [Under HIS breath] Not in front of the kids, Alfie, you can make fun of him later.

'''ALFIE surrenders, and sits down. HE catches LIAM grinning at HIM, and gives a small, casual wave.'''

SHAWN: So… Beth, what’s the plan?

'''BETH stands, and takes the floor. SHAWN gladly steps back.'''

BETH: I hope you all took it upon yourselves to do warmups, because we’re on very limited time.

RICKY: Uh… I was having lunch.

BETH: What— Oh, lunch! Yeah… Me too. I wasn’t too busy recording vocal arrangements, or anything.

RICKY: Well… That’s good!

JUDE: Bruh. Both of you. Just… Bruh.

OPHELIA: Yep. You, eat. You, grow brain.

BETH: Again, limited time.

RICKY: Too hard.

JUDE: Man’s got a point.

BETH: [Incredibly quickly] First order of business, Invitationals. It’s pretty soon, and we still have no idea how to work as a group. We need to find our sound, and it’s definitely not the one that comes out of Mags’ mouth.

MAGS: Let me at her.

SHAWN: Uh, sit. Stay. Good scary sophomore…

BETH: I don’t fear you.

MAGS: You will.

BETH: Noted. [Even faster than before] Anyway, Quentin and I are gonna work on a setlist, and, for the love of God, practice in your own time, people, for the sake of my sanity.

ALFIE: I feel like your head’s on the verge of exploding. Or, possibly mine, from trying to process that.

BETH: I’ve had a lot of espresso.

ALFIE: How many are we talking?

BETH: Pick a number between 2 and 25, because I do not remember. It’s all a blur.

ALFIE: You worry me.

DANNY: You get used to it. Kind of.

BETH: Is it National Insult Beth Day? Oh, my favourite!

JAMES: More like National be Deeply Concerned for Her Wellbeing Day.

MAGS: No, I liked the first one better.

BETH: Both are deeply unnecessary.

LIAM: I mean, so’s National Stationary Week, but it’s a thing.

OPHELIA: I bet that’s your favourite holiday.

LIAM: No, I like Halloween better, but I need the free pens. Mine get all chewed up by either me, or whatever’s living under my bed.

BETH: Anyway!

JAMES: Yeah, let’s get back on track, huh?

LYRA: Were we ever on track?

LOGAN: I… Think we were next to something vaguely resembling one.

BETH whistles, shrilly, catching everyone’s attention.

BETH: So, that’s how to do it… Coach had the right idea. Okay, everyone, September has a song for us. Ember, you’re up, angel.

OPHELIA: [Mouthed, to TOBIAS] Angel?

SEPTEMBER takes the stage.

SEPTEMBER: Thank you, Beth! Alright… This is for a guy I know.

CLUB: Ooooh!

BLUE stares, almost hurt.

SEPTEMBER: I don't have a sunny disposition.

I'm not known for being too amused.

My demeanour’s locked in one position.

''See my face? I'm enthused.''

Suddenly, however, I've been puzzled.

Bunny rabbits make me want to cry.

All my inhibitions have been muzzled,

And I think I know why.

I’m being pulled in a new direction,

But I think I like it.

I think I like it.

I'm being pulled in a new direction.

Through my painful pursuit,

Somehow birdies took root.

All the things I detested impossibly cute.

''God! What do I do?''

Pulled---

Mother always said be kind to strangers,

But she doesn't know what they destroy.

I can feel the clear and present dangers,

When she learns that the boy...

Has got me pulled in a new direction,

But I think I like it.

I think I like it!

I'm being pulled in a new direction,

But this feeling, I know is impossible,

So I'll confide that I've tried but I can't let it go.

It's disgustingly true!

Pulled, pulled, pulled!

Puppy dogs with droopy faces,

Unicorns with dancing mice,

Sunrise in wide open spaces,

Disney World - I'll go there twice!

Butterflies and picnic lunches,

Bunches of chrysanthemums,

Lollipops and pillow fights and Christmas Eve,

Sugar plums!

String quartets and Chia Pets,

And afternoon banana splits,

Angels watching as I sleep,

And Liberace's Greatest Hits!

Have got me pulled in a new direction!

If they keep insisting, I'll stop resisting.

Just watch me pulled in a new direction.

I should stay in the dark,

Not obey every spark,

But the boy has a bite,

Better far than his bark!

And you bet I'll bite too,

Do what's truly taboo,

As I'm pulled in a new direction!

The club cheer, especially BLUE.

BETH: Amazing as always! We’re putting that in your rep folder, after school.

OPHELIA: And, you’re helping her with her rep folder why?

SEPTEMBER: Well, she helps the needy, and I needed a rep folder.

BLUE: So, who’s this guy? He cute?

The club turn to HIM.

BLUE: Inquiring minds wanna know.

SEPTEMBER: I don’t think he’s your type. Wait, who am I kidding? He’s exactly your type.

BLUE: Then, introduce me.

SEPTEMBER: You already know him.

BLUE: It’s someone here?

OPHELIA: Are you saying you don’t know anyone outside of this room? Seriously, is it someone here?

SEPTEMBER: Maybe…

JUDE clicks HIS tongue, and winks.

BLUE: HIM?

SEPTEMBER: God, no! No offence.

JUDE: None taken, kiddo. Way too young for me. But, say it with a little more disgust, why don’t you?

SEPTEMBER: Oh, I could say it with a lot more.

JUDE: …That’s valid.

BLUE: So, who is it?

SEPTEMBER turns, to hide HER smile.

SEPTEMBER: I’m not telling!

BLUE: Who is it, Ember?

SEPTEMBER: I just said I’m not telling! Stop…

BLUE: Oh, never.

BETH: Actually, now! September and I have much to discuss. Come on, angel.

SEPTEMBER: [Excitedly] Oh, is it time for notes?

BETH: That’s right!

SHE pats SEPTEMBER’s head.

OPHELIA: They’re so…

TOBIAS: Sweet?

OPHELIA: Weird. Really weird. What’s the big deal about the fresher?

TOBIAS: I don’t know. She’s nice, and she’s talented?

OPHELIA: Oh, and I’m not?

TOBIAS: No, no, you’re both of— No, you’re talented!

OPHELIA: Hey, baby, I’ve got an idea. Give it another shot, and stop after ‘I don’t know’.

TOBIAS: Okay… I don’t know.

OPHELIA: Much better! Beth has no idea what she’s doing. She’s paying so much attention to the fresher that she isn’t thinking, not about what matters.

TOBIAS: Which is?

OPHELIA: Her reputation! Everyone’s so confused as to why she’s spending so much time with her. Being here is already putting us on very thin ice, and Coach is furious. If we lose our place on the squad, we’re royally screwed.

TOBIAS: Right. You’re not… Jealous, or anything?

OPHELIA: Jealous that the fresher’s getting attention? No, I can barely stand Beth! That would be stupid…

TOBIAS: Yeah. Of course it would. '''Scene 7, still in the choir room. The bell rings, and the club pack up, some more hasty than others, all chatting.'''

BETH: I told you it would be short! Okay, we’ll— Guys?

DAMIEN: You’re in a hurry.

LIAM: I have class.

DAMIEN: Liam, are you… Are we—

LIAM: I’ve gotta go. Sorry.

'''As VIOLA stands, SHE drops a drawing. QUENTIN picks it up, to find the completed costume design from earlier, which looks suspiciously like VALERIE.'''

QUENTIN: Hey, Viola, you—

VIOLA: Hm?

QUENTIN: Oh, nothing.

HE pockets the drawing.

BETH: Guys, listen! We’ll reconvene after school, okay?

RICKY whistles.

RICKY: You heard the girl, back after school!

OPHELIA groans, exaggeratedly.

BETH: You knew what you signed up for! Thanks, Ricky…

RICKY: Hey, any time.

HE claps BETH on the shoulder, grinning.

RICKY: I’ll see you then, okay? Hey, maybe after, we can get something to eat. You missed lunch!

BETH: Sounds good!

RICKY: Yay! Oh, hey, I’ll walk with you to class. Do you want me to take that folder for you? It looks heavy, you should put that in your locker.

BETH: Thank you! But, I’ll pass on both. I’ve gotta talk to September a little, first. See you in class?

RICKY: Yeah, sure. If you change your mind… It won’t do much, I’ll already be in class. But, hey, the thought’s there.

'''BETH laughs, as RICKY exits. SEPTEMBER raises an eyebrow.'''

BETH: I know, I know. So, did YOU do warmups in your own time, at least?

SEPTEMBER: Of course! Everything you taught me, twice over.

BETH: Go, you! So, let’s talk song choices. I have so many ideas for you.

JAMES: Hey, Beth? Maybe save it for the walk to class, huh? You don’t wanna be late.

BETH: Right, class! Come on, Ember.

SHE exits, dragging SEPTEMBER with HER.

ALFIE: She’s enthusiastic, I’ll give her that.

MAGS: She’s a nightmare.

LOGAN: You’re one to talk…

SHAWN: So, uh… What do you think?

ALFIE: I’m impressed. You’ve done some good work.

SHAWN: Oh, it was all Beth, really… I’m just here to watch.

ALFIE: And you do it so well. Come on, back to the grindstone.

JAMES: Logan, will you get the lights on your way out?

LOGAN: Huh? Sure…

The teachers exit, leaving MAGS and LOGAN alone.

MAGS: [Uninterested] What’s up with you?

LOGAN: How much time you got?

MAGS: Not much, make it quick.

LOGAN: My parents love my brother more, I’m already unpopular here, even though I practically just arrived, and I can’t get a girlfriend. Quick enough for you?

MAGS: You can’t get a girlfriend? Unsurprising. I mean… [Sweetly] I might just be the answer to all of your problems, Logan…

LOGAN: You know my name?

MAGS: Of course!

LOGAN: Huh… How are you gonna solve all my problems?

MAGS: Well…

Whenever I see someone less fortunate than I

And let's face it, who isn't less fortunate than I?

My tender heart tends to start to bleed

And when someone needs a makeover

I simply have to take over!

I know, I know exactly what they need!

And even in your case

Though it's the toughest case I've yet to face

Don't worry, I'm determined to succeed!

Follow my lead

And yes indeed, you will be

Popular!

You're gonna be popular!

I'll teach you the proper poise

When you talk to boys

Little ways to flirt and flounce,

LOGAN: What?

MAGS: I'll show you what shoes to wear!

How to fix your hair!

Everything that really counts to be

Popular!

I'll help you be popular!

You'll hang with the right cohorts

You'll be good at sports

Know the slang you've got to know

So let's start

 'Cause you've got an awfully long way to go!

Don't be offended by my frank analysis

Think of it as personality dialysis

Now that I've chosen to become a

Pal, a sister and advisor

There's nobody wiser!

Not when it comes to

Popular!

I know about popular

And with an assist from me

To be who you'll be

Instead of dreary who you were

Well, are

There's nothing that can stop you

''From becoming popu-ler... lar''

La la, la la!

We're gonna make you pop-you-lar!

When I see depressing creatures

With unprepossessing features

I remind them on their own behalf

To think of

Celebrated heads of state

Or specially great communicators!

Did they have brains or knowledge?

Don't make me laugh!

They were popular!

Please!

It's all about popular

It's not about aptitude

It's the way you're viewed

So it's very shrewd to be

Very very popular

Like me!

La la, la la!

You'll be popular!

Just not quite as popular as me!

LOGAN: You’re… Horribly unpopular.

MAGS: [Reluctantly] I know. But, I can make you popular.

LOGAN: How?

MAGS: Just trust me.

LOGAN: Hm… What’s the catch?

MAGS: Date me.

LOGAN: No, I’m not gonna— I’m sorry, what was that? I think I might have hallucinated for a sec.

MAGS: Date. Me.

LOGAN: So, I get to be popular, and I get a girlfriend?

MAGS: Pretty much.

LOGAN: What guy in his right mind would possibly want that(?) We have a deal!

MAGS: Good. Then, I’ll see you at Breadstix, at 7 tonight.

LOGAN: You got it.

MAGS: And, wear a shirt and tie.

'''SHE exits, switching the lights off after HER. LOGAN stays where HE is, startled and grinning.''' Scene 8, choir room, AFTER school.

BETH: Alright, guys! Oh… we’re missing two. And it ISN’T Ophelia and/or Magnolia? What universe have I stepped into?

SHAWN: Who are we missing? There’s so many of you…

BETH: Blue and September. September?!

JUDE: Maybe she’s with that guy she talked about.

BETH: In rehearsal time? Oh, no, no, no, she knows better. I’m calling her.

QUENTIN: Hon, she’ll get here when she gets here. She probably has her phone off.

OPHELIA: What’s the big deal? They barely feature anyway.

BETH: They? Who’s the other one?

LYRA: Well, funnily enough, still Blue.

SKY: Really? What a surprise!

JAMES: Look, let’s run through the number anyway. If they don’t turn up, it’s on them. Okay, Beth?

BETH: Uh… Sure, I guess.

JAMES: Ricky?

RICKY: Yeah, I’m ready. I think.

JAMES: Hit it.

RICKY: You know I want you

It's not a secret I try to hide

I know you want me

So don't keep sayin' our hands are tied

You claim it's not in the cards

And fate is pullin' you miles away

And out of reach from me

But you're here in my heart

So who can stop me if I decide

That you're my destiny?

What if we rewrite the stars?

Say you were made to be mine

Nothing could keep us apart

You'd be the one I was meant to find

It's up to you, and it's up to me

No one can say what we get to be

So why don't we rewrite the stars?

Maybe the world could be ours

Tonight…

BETH distractedly looks to HER phone, until RICKY tilts HER head towards HIM.

BETH: You think it's easy

You think I don't wanna run to you

But there are mountains

And there are doors that we can't walk through

I know you're wondering why because we're able to be

Just you and me within these walls

But when we go outside, you're gonna wake up and see

That it was hopeless after all

No one can rewrite the stars

How can you say you'll be mine?

Everything keeps us apart

And I'm not the one you were meant to find

It's not up to you

It's not up to me

When everyone tells us what we can be

How can we rewrite the stars?

Say that the world can be ours

Tonight…

BOTH: All I want is to fly with you

All I want is to fall with you

So just give me all of you!

BETH: It feels impossible.

RICKY: It’s not impossible.

BETH: Is it impossible?

BOTH: Say that it’s possible!

'''Pan to BLUE and SEPTEMBER, kissing in a broom closet. SEPTEMBER’s phone buzzes.'''

SEPTEMBER: It’s Beth again…

BLUE: Ignore it.

RICKY & BETH: [V.O] How do we rewrite the stars?

Say you were made to be mine?

Nothing can keep us apart

 'Cause you are the one I was meant to find

It's up to you

And it's up to me

No one can say what we get to be

And why don't we rewrite the stars?

Changing the world to be ours…

'''Cut back to the choir room. RICKY and BETH stare deeply into each other’s eyes.'''

BETH: You know I want you

It's not a secret I try to hide

But I can't have you

We're bound to break and my hands are tied…

Roll credits.