An Original, Feature-Length Screenplay by Mark Barkawitz

FADE IN:

EXT. ALLEY-AFTERNOON

EDDIE HUCK-a lean, wild-eyed sixteen-year-old, who wears a T-shirt with a KROQ logo, loose-fitting jeans, and new high-top tennies-runs. Chasing angrily behind him are THREE TAGGERS. They wear extremely baggie garb with skinheads and red bandana headbands. Though racially diverse, they are otherwise indistinguishable from one another.

EDDIE
(Voice-Over)

My name's Eddie Huck. You probably heard of me on the news or if you read the papers. I'm the one they made sound like a lost soul. A loner. A runaway. But even before it all happened-the shootings and killings, I mean-even then I was one of those guys who never quite fit in. Always the odd-dude-out. The last chosen. The brunt of the joke.
(still running; glancing over shoulder)
So I guess there's no use lying about it- in the sixteen-plus years that I hung-out in that treacherous part of the planet called Los Angeles, I'd thought about running away. To where? I didn't know. Something just told me, I had to get away.
(increasing speed)
Fortunately, I had practiced for my journey.

As Eddie continues to extend his lead, the taggers curse him from behind. He looks over his shoulder and smiles to himself, confident in his ability to outrun his pursuers. But as he approaches the cross street which intersects the alley, a polished metallic low-rider screeches to a stop directly in front of him. Still looking backwards, Eddie runs into the fender, which knocks the wind out of him and leaves him gasping for breath on the hood.

EDDIE
(continuing VO)

Of course like any other guy my age, cars were another part of my story.

The taggers close in from behind. I.N.K. gets OUT of the car. In his mid-to-late twenties, he is big, mean, and tattooed with gang insignias and a teardrop at the outside corner of one eye. Slowly walking around the front of his low-rider, he inspects the hood and fender for damage, over which Eddie still lies, trying to catch his breath. I.N.K. puts his face close to Eddie's on the hood.

I.N.K.

I believe your ugly face is sweatin' on my sixteen coats of polished acrylic lacquer.

Eddie raises himself off the car. With the front of his T-shirt, he wipes his sweaty face print off the hood. I.N.K. nods his approval.

EDDIE

My bad, Mr. Ink.

I.N.K.

That's pronounced capital I, capital N, capital K. Chump! But it's a good sign for you you know my name.

EDDIE
(VO)

I'd seen it spray-painted on enough freeway signs.

I.N.K.
(to taggers)

So maybe this dumb fuck Huck ain't as dumb as he looks. Eh, homeys?

EDDIE
(VO)

He was wrong. I was.

I.N.K. looks Eddie over, as if sizing him up.

I.N.K.

You ever hear the joke about the dude who joined a club so he wouldn't get beat over the head with it?

The taggers laugh at their leader's joke. I.N.K. smiles. Eddie just shakes his head-no.

I.N.K.

Well, Huck. Maybe you better think about it.

The gang leader walks around the front of the low-rider, opens the driver's door, then cranks up the gansta' rap on his custom stereo. The taggers move in. From behind, the tallest tagger punches Eddie in the kidney. Eddie winces and slides slowly down the fender. On the ground, hidden beside the low-rider, they continue to kick and punch him. As he tries to cover himself from their blows, one of the taggers removes Eddie's new high-tops from his feet. The tallest one warns:

TAGGER #1

An' don't forget my lunch money tomorrow, chump!

After one last kick at Eddie, the taggers hurry back down the alley with his shoes to EXIT in same direction from which they came. The low-rider's engine starts, revs, and the car screeches AWAY, leaving Eddie lying on the blacktop, curled in a fetal position, moaning.

EDDIE
(sarcastic VO)

Oh-h, yeah. I loved L.A.

EXT. HUCK'S HOUSE-EVENING

Unlike the other houses surrounding it in the lower-middle class neighborhood, the Hucks' house needs a paint job and its lawn mowed. The old roof is half-covered with new shingles and bundles of shingles are spread around the roofing-job-in-progess. But no one is on the roof at work. An old Plymouth Duster, also in need of a paint job and body work, is parked in the driveway. A nondescript, newer sedan is parked at the curb. In his stocking-feet, Eddie APPROACHES, holding his injured side.

EDDIE
(VO)

When I got home, Mom's car was already parked in the driveway. Bummer. Not that I had anything against Mom. (stepping on porch; putting key in door) She was okay for divorced, middle-aged, overweight actress/dancer/model/whatever, who was too busy bingeing and purging to pay attention to my problems. I just didn't feel like telling her about losing the new kicks she'd just bought me with Dad's monthly child support check.

INT. HUCK'S HOUSE-EVENING

Eddie opens the front door and ENTERS. In the livingroom, MRS. GLORIA HUCK-fortyish, bleached platinum hair that changes color weekly, wearing skin-tight, spandex dance togs over her large derriere-and FATHER BOB-dressed in a black suit with a white cleric's color-stand up from the couch.

EDDIE
(continuing VO)

Did I mention she was falling in love with our parish priest?

MRS. HUCK

Hi, Honey. How was your day? (without waiting for an answer) You know Father Bob.

EDDIE
(nods; closes front door; VO)

Mom had been trying to find God, but found Father Bob instead. I think the mutual attraction arose from their mutual unavailability- Father Bob for the obvious reasons and Mom 'cause 'a Dad's alimony payments, which would only stop if she remarried.

FATHER BOB

I hope to see you Sunday, Edward.

EDDIE
(points heavenward)

Sorry, Father. I'm up on the roof.

As Eddie starts to leave, his mother calls after him:

MRS. HUCK

Do your homework, Honey.

EDDIE
(EXITING to rear of house)

I don't have any tonight.

INT. HUCKS' BATHROOM-EVENING

Eddie ENTERS the dark room and switches ON the lights. The mirror is lit with rows of bulbs. The sink is cluttered with make-up, hair brushes, curlers, and wigs on styrofoam heads with oddly-painted faces. He removes and tosses his shirt and dirty socks in the hamper. A scar runs along his lower spine. He checks his new bruises in the mirror. Two small dimples on either temple are now noticeable in the bright light.

EDDIE
(VO)

Mom believed pretty much anything I told her. Mostly 'cause it was a lot easier that way. She still called herself Mrs. Huck, explaining she'd kept Dad's last name for professional reasons, although I'm not sure how professional the name Gloria Huck sounded to anybody. I'm not even sure she and Dad were really divorced. One day when I was little, he was just gone. Mom didn't like to talk about it. Like a cold cereal commercial played over and over again, she always said the same thing about him:

FLASHBACK to: a younger Mrs. Huck with a Nancy Reagan hairdo, plucking her eyebrows at the same mirror. YOUNG EDDIE, around seven years old, stands nearby, watching her.

MRS. HUCK
(looking into mirror)

Your father's a nut, Honey.

END FLASHBACK. CUT BACK to: a bruised Eddie staring at himself in the mirror. He sighs deeply.

INT. EDDIE'S BEDROOM-EVENING

Like most teenager's rooms, it's a mess: clothes in piles and strewn about, CDs cast haphazardly around the stereo, empty soda cans and cups, school books and corrected papers-mostly Ds and Fs-scattered on the desk. The walls are covered with rap and alt rock posters-Linkin Park, Eminem, Dr. Dre, Beck, Nirvana-interspersed with pencil and ink drawings-dark and escapist-signed "EH." Eddie ENTERS, shirt off, and collapses on the unmade bed.

EDDIE
(VO)

Though I'd promised myself to stick it out through next semester, when I was scheduled to take Driver's Ed so I could get my license, I was beginning to question my commitment to high school. (places earphones on head; turns on stereo) I mean, it wasn't like I was gonna be a rocket scientist or a brain surgeon or something. Pumping gas or roofing houses was fine with me if it got me out of here.

Eddie reaches over for an art pad and pencil, begins drawing.

EDDIE
(continuing VO)

I'd use my usual excuse for missing school tomorrow.

FLASH FORWARD to:

INT. HUCK'S BATHROOM-MORNING

As Mrs. Huck puts on her face in the make-up mirror, Eddie stands nearby in a baggy T-shirt and boxers, his hair mussed from sleeping.

EDDIE

My back went out again, Mom.

She stares at him in the mirror.

EDDIE
(VO)

I'd learned early in life- a little guilt goes a long way.

END FLASH FORWARD. FLASHBACK to:

INT. OLD DATSUN-NIGHT

The younger Mrs. Huck checks her make-up in mirror while driving. Young Eddie sits in passenger seat without a seatbelt.

EXT. INTERSECTION-NIGHT

A thick fog shrouds the street, masking the traffic light, which changes from green to yellow to red as the old Datsun ENTERS the intersection. From the other direction, it is broad-sided on the passenger side by a garbage truck suddenly ENTERING the intersection. Metal crunches, glass breaks. The compact car spins to a stop and all is again quiet in the fog.

INT. HOSPITAL ROOM-MORNING

Young Eddie lies in a hospital bed, wired in traction with bolts screwed into the sides of his temples and his ankles, which are connected by cables that run through pulleys above the bed. Mrs. Huck sits by his bedside. She wears sunglasses to cover her blackened eye and reads Cosmopolitan magazine.

EDDIE
(continuing VO)

Mom's driving skills trapped me in traction for second and most of third grade. The doctors said I'd never walk again. A lot they knew. Mom said Dad had come by to see me in the recovery room, but I couldn't remember. Hell, I barely remembered him at all now. Only on birthdays and Christmas, when every year like a reminder, he sent me the same lame letter and a fifty-dollar bill.

END FLASHBACK. CUT BACK to:

INT. EDDIE'S BEDROOM-EVENING

As last we saw him lying in bed with headphones and drawing pad, Eddie stares at the artwork on his lap: a man without a face. He rips off the page, crumples it, and tosses it at the already-filled wastebasket. It bounces onto the floor. He reaches over and turns the stereo up louder to blare out the memory, then lies back again and closes his eyes.

EDDIE
(VO)

I stayed home with my bad back for the next three days and what with the weekend . . .

EXT. HIGH SCHOOL TRACK-DAY

Dressed in white T-shirts and gym shorts, Eddie runs on the track with the other MALE STUDENTS. But unlike the others who jog, he runs a fast pace, passing and leaving them behind.

EDDIE
(continuing VO)

. . . it was almost a week before I went back to school.

On the sidelines, the P.E. COACH-thirties, muscular in a tight T-shirt-holds a stopwatch and checks Eddie's time. He is surprisingly impressed.

INT. BOYS' LOCKER ROOM-DAY

Lockers on both sides form a narrow aisle. In his sweaty T-shirt and gym shorts, Eddie sits on the long bench that runs down the middle of the concrete floor, working the combination on his locker. A few other male students get dressed nearby.

EDDIE
(continuing VO)

I figured things had chilled and maybe Ink's gang had found someone else to pound on for awhile.

At the far end of the aisle, Taggers #2 and #3 ENTER. The other guys finish dressing and quickly EXIT past them. Eddie spots the two taggers.

EDDIE
(continuing VO)

Or not.

Eddie closes his locker and turns to split in other direction, when Tagger #1, the tallest of the three, suddenly APPERARS at that end of the lockers. Surrounded, Eddie leans back against his locker and awaits the inevitable.

TAGGER #1

Hey, Huck. Where you been? We missed you at luch time last week. Right, boys?

The other two agree. Tagger #1 gets up in Eddie's face.

TAGGER #1

You better have my lunch money, chump.

EDDIE

I'm broke, guys. Honest.

TAGGER #1

Broke? (shaking head in disgust) This is very disappointing. Open the locker.

Eddie hesitates. Tagger #1 punches him in the stomach. Keeling forward, Eddie turns and unlocks his locker. Tagger #1 pushes Eddie out of the way, then ransacks the locker, giving his partners Eddie's newest pair of high-tops. He finds a couple dollars in a pants pocket.

TAGGER #1

Two fuckin' bucks. Huck, you as cheap as you are stupid. (putting money in pocket) You thought about what I.N.K. asked you last week?

Still holding his stomach, Eddie shakes his head.

TAGGER #1

Well, you better. 'Cause you sure ain't doin' yourself no good this way. You need protection. You need homeys. You need a new family.

EDDIE
(VO)

That had occurred to me, too.

They are about to pound on Eddie some more, when the P.E. Coach APPEARS at the end of the aisle.

COACH

Aren't you boys supposed to be going to class.

TAGGER #1

Yeah, Coach. We be goin'. Right, Huck?

COACH

Leave the shoes.

Tagger #1 nods. Tagger #2 drops Eddie's high-tops on the floor. Tagger #1 leads the other two and they EXIT. At the other end of the aisle, the P.E. Coach EXITS, too. Eddie leans back against the lockers and slides down to the floor, where he sits, holding his stomach. OFF-CAMERA, the class bell rings loudly.

INT. BIOLOGY CLASSROOM-DAY

At the front of the room, the teacher MRS. COOPER-early-to-mid thirties, attractive-hands out corrected papers to the STUDENTS. Through the glass in the top half of the door, EDDIE APPEARS outside, looking in. Opening the door quietly, he enters, his hair still wet from showering after gym class. On his way to his desk, the teacher hands him his corrected test paper.

MRS. COOPER
(confidentially)

See me after class, Edward.

He nods and keeps the test folded closed. As he sits, he smiles at JULIE LOVE, the teenage girl who sits in the desk behind him. She returns the smile. She wears a loose-fitting but low-cut summer dress and black, Doc Marten construction boots. A small flower is done up in her hair. She leans over his shoulder and whispers in his ear.

JULIE

What'd you get?

Eddie lifts the corner of the test paper on his desk, so only he can see the score. A big, red "D-" is at the top. He closes the paper, leans back, and confides to Julie:

EDDIE

I got a "C."

JULIE

Me. too.

But the test on her desk is marked at the top with a big "A." She puts it in her folder.

EDDIE
(VO)

Julie Love was my girl friend. Not girlfriend girl friend. But she was a girl and my only real friend. Not that I didn't want her as my girlfriend girl friend. It just hadn't come up. Not yet anyway. She was new at school this year and we'd gotten to know each other before the others told her anything about me.