The Beautiful Part, a Screenplay and A Reflection on Contemporary Coming-of-Age Stories, Heterotopias and American Identity

The Beautiful Part, a screenplay and A Reflection on Contemporary Coming-of-Age Stories, Heterotopias and American Identity. by Mara Egan A Senior Project Submitted in Partial Fulfillment Of the requirements for the Major in English And the Bachelor of Arts Degree Stetson University, DeLand, Florida Advisor: Prof Grady Ballenger December 4, 2015 Abstract For my project, I will explore the inner and societal challenges of coming-of- age in America through a creative piece that in itself tells a coming-of-age story. The story will examine the importance of adventure, disillusionment, and storytelling itself in the process of finding personal identity in a country with an increasingly fractured identity. The story will span across the country both to evoke adventure and to sample the many pocket cultures of America. I plan to combine this creative piece with a research project dealing with the cultural influence of coming-of-age stories throughout recent American history. This project will combine my major in creative writing with my minor in humanities, specifically psychology and sociology. A Reflection on Contemporary Coming-of-Age Stories, Heterotopias and American Identity Through my experience as an English major at Stetson University, I’ve spent a great deal of time, both in and out of the classroom, considering the power of stories in shaping identity. For the capstone to my academic experience, I wanted to write a story, a screenplay that dealt with the very concept of transformation through storytelling, particularly in regards to coming-of-age stories. When beginning work on my screenplay, The Beautiful Part, I considered stories that I wanted to learn from. The three stories that seemed most relevant were J.D. Salinger’s Catcher in the Rye because of its iconic status as an American coming-of-age novel, Jack Kerouac’s On the Road because of its use of physical America as a tool to comment on and transform its characters, and finally, John Green’s Paper Towns because—though many of the aspects of travel and America as a character mirror those in On the Road— it portrays a different, more hopeful vision of adulthood that I wanted to maintain in my own work. It is my hope that The Beautiful Part will tell a familiar story, remembering the successes and facets of truth in the similar stories told before it, in a new way that attends to the importance of these stories—the necessity of coming-of-age stories (of stories in general) in the very process of the transformation that occurs between adolescence and adulthood. In a century filled with “adverse statistics and continued uncertainty” (White, Hansen, 3) telling the coming-of-age story in 21st century America is not only popular, but also increasingly important. As American psychologists redefine the end of adolescence, pushing it back from 18 to 25, and “expressions of self-doubt about the nation’s future [are] uttered more frequently” (White, Hansen, 4), the American coming-of-age story becomes a necessary aid in navigating the uncertain transition from adolescence to adulthood. As America, and particularly American youths adjust to a culture where adulthood and the American concept of adult success is becoming more distant and less defined, they revert to their tested art of storytelling in order to cope and to understand. The notion of transformative stories perpetuating transformation seems particularly relevant in American coming-of-age stories. American culture has been reformed, complexly and repeatedly, through stories. The stories told throughout American history, maintaining American history, have served to instruct, entertain, remind, and comfort. Still, American culture has been idealized and ‘summed up’ in a way that inevitably disorients young people attempting to find their place in it. America prizes adulthood while simultaneously making it desperately narrow: defined by success and stability in career, finance, and relationships (White Hanson 5-7). The danger in this arises from the truth that America is not narrow; it is vast and often incomprehensible, brimming with various cultures, landscapes, ideas, and space. This complicated country must be considered for both its vastness and its capacity to be traveled. Since the U.S. contains so many regions, so many subcultures, separated only by imaginary lines, it becomes a very diverse—even confusing—country that may be explored, quite simply, on the road. In a nation furthered through the human desire to pioneer, to push West, ‘pushing West’ becomes just as useful in discovering an American individual as it is in discovering physical America. By driving, characters can glimpse the many different and sometimes opposing facets of America that can serve as roadmaps to the self, and by telling these stories, Americans can translate the experiences of fictional characters into meaningful ones for themselves. One of the most iconic American coming-of-age stories is J.D. Salinger’s Catcher in the Rye. “ Although Catcher in the Rye doesn’t involve travel, it’s renown makes it important to consider when discussing the elements of an American coming-of-age story. Published in 1951, the story uses Holden and D.B.’s hatred for the American Army and skepticism of their parents to reveal a greater disillusionment of the belief in America. “Holden’s distrust of adult language… is both noble and self-destructive”—in feeling alienated, he alienates himself further (Bloom, 2). Each interaction he has in the adult world makes it more obvious how little he understands it. His redemption comes from his interactions with the child world— the joy of watching his younger sister belong there—and coming to the understanding that, though he cannot belong there anymore, he needs to take it with him onward. What this teaches, what worthy coming-of-age stories should teach, is the acceptance of vulnerability. Inevitably, vulnerability must underscore the transition from adolescence to adulthood, as individuals learn to find the balance between accepting and challenging their worlds as well as trying to find their place in it. ‘Coming-of-age’ novels acknowledge this quest, featuring protagonists between the ages of twelve and twenty-five who are somehow “in conflict with society”(Cowing, 1). Throughout these stories, the protagonists must undergo some transformative experience, which usually leads them to some form of both maturity and identity, acceptance as well as understanding. In her Ted Talk, Brené Brown discusses the necessity of vulnerability in connecting in a contemporary world. In her research, she claims she found one “unnamed thing that absolutely unraveled connection” (Brown 1), which is shame. Through investigating the specificity of “coming of age,” I have come to believe that the urgency of this time is born from the anxiety of shame that comes with becoming an adult—the shame of fear, fear of not understanding in a world that too often doesn’t care to explain. Because vulnerability has become synonymous with liability—and talking about vulnerability betrays its existence, we don’t talk about it. It’s too personal. Telling a story, a story that reflects truth, has become “too personal” and thus uncomfortable Much like adolescence, vulnerability is uncomfortable. Thus, Brown notes, it takes great courage to deal with vulnerability; she chooses to define courage as “the willingness to tell the story of who you are with your whole heart” (Brown 3) It seems to me that one of the most worthwhile way to tell this story, to be vulnerable, to communicate and to connect, is to, in fact, tell a story. Another 20th century American coming-of-age story that’s relevance has been renewed in the 21st century is Jack Kerouac’s On the Road. The Guardian article “The Magic of Kerouac: On the Road and the Teenage Experience,” notes the novel’s transcendence: ”Whether you read it in 1962 or 2012, On the Road is the quintessential coming of age novel.” On the Road was published in 1957, but the film adaptation was released in 2012. Like Holden, Dean Moriarty rejects traditional ‘adult’ language and customs and instead seeks to undermine the status quo, to chase an “endlessly changing horizon.” However, Dean Moriarty is not the protagonist of On the Road, Sal is because Sal is the character that transforms. Dean serves to reject the homogenous culture, not understand it. He cannot be the protagonist because he will not change, so he serves as the counter culture that Sal experiences, that prompts his transformative journey. He follows Dean, experiences his world on the road, but does not become him. A 21st century story that mirrors this is John Green’s novel turned movie, Paper Towns. In that both stories require the literal transformation of space, physical movement across America, to structure and inspire transformation of self, they both necessarily deal with the concept of personal growth through ‘heterotopia’. Heterotopia is both a geographical and philosophical concept of places—at once physical and mental—that reject conformity; they are other—“sites of resistance” (Foucalt Studies). In the article, “Producing Knowledge in Other Places,” Robert Topinka argues that, though heterotopias are known for resisting defined social order or ideas and “problematize received knowledge by destabilizing the ground on which knowledge is built,” they are capable of building a new order out of the ruins of the old. He claims that “heterotopias always remain connected to the dominant order; thus as heterotopias clash with dominant orders, they simultaneously produce new ways of knowing” (Topinka, 4). This concept is essential in both stories as each novel depicts the America in which the characters travel as both a hegemonic place, operating on and enforcing prescriptive ideologies, and as a heterotopia. It is in no one place but on the road, out of the towns in which the characters have grown up (specifically Denver, Colorado and Winter Park, Florida) that they find a heterotopia. In his original study of heterotopias, French philosopher, Michel Foucalt attempts to explain the concept of heterotopias using the image of items on an operating table. With the items spread out, an onlooker can clearly decipher what each one is and what it means—“objects become knowable because the space between objects on the operating table allows us to separate them into discrete entities.” A heterotopia functions by destabilizing the operating table, “telescoping many spaces in one site.” By removing the space between the sites, the destabilization creates a new, resistant meaning out of the jumbled objects. Foucalt et. al. argues that this can develop knowledge, through “clash of forces,” about the homogenous culture because a jumbled sites cannot exist without commenting on the space around it, “it either exposes 'real' space as somehow fake or illusory, or creates a space that is "other, another real space, as perfect, as meticulous, as well arranged as ours is messy, ill-constructed and jumbled" (Topinka, 7). He uses other images such as that of a horizon, a visible but intangible place, an in between, defined by the space around it, to explain his concept of heterotopia but never the road. This phenomenon allows physical America to participate in the examination of cultural America. In the series, Shots of Awe, media artist Jason Silva describes stories as a way of “colonizing the brain,” literally “providing a map” to process and make meaning out of human experience. Considering this, the road trip story becomes one of the most essential interpretations of American Culture. In On the Road, Sal escapes the monotony of what he has already experienced by chasing Dean Moriarty and the anti-culture he represents across the country. While on the road, he notices that he is “halfway across America, at the dividing line between the East of [his] youth and the west of [his] future” (Keruoac, 132). In Paper Towns, Q, a cautious high-school senior, also turns the road to chase a person, Margo, who he idealizes—much like Sal idealizes Dean— to represent something beyond what he has known. Both protagonists activate their transformation through the simple act of leaving. Interestingly, both also make comments about how natural leaving feels once in motion. Sal notes how he “was surprised, as always, by how easy the act of leaving was, and how good it felt, the world was suddenly rich with possibility” (Keruoac, 73) and Q makes the statement, “it’s so hard to leave—until you leave. And then it’s the easiest goddamn thing in the world” (Green, 229). This is their heterotopia, an in between or “crisis heterotopia,” a site where “individuals in a state of crisis such as adolescents… are placed until their situation normalizes” (Topinka, 5). Thus, the road becomes a metaphor for adolescence itself, both the space in between the places that are understood. I wanted to emulate this idea in my screenplay, treating both the road and the characters themselves as sites of transformation, simultaneously commenting on and resisting their world. I hoped to capture the essence of the coming-of-age story that I found in Catcher in the Rye, the attitude toward physical America in On the Road, and the hopefulness and awe of adventure in Paper Towns. I also employed the image of the horizon, specifically sunrises, to pay homage to the concept of heterotopias and the ‘in between.’ Through this creative project, I have been able to add one more story to the libraries of human experience in the hopes that telling it might further my own understanding of my world and how I participate in it. Works Cited Bloom, Harold. "J. D. Salinger's the Catcher in the Rye." Google Books. N.p., n.d. Web. 01 Dec. 2015 Brown, Brene. TEDTalks: Brene Brown--The Power of Vulnerability. TED, 2010. Cowing, Sue. "Some Thoughts on “Coming-of-Age” Novels." From the MixedUp Files. N.p., 15 Oct. 2012. Web. 1 Nov. 2015. Foucalt, Michel. Of Other Spaces: Utopias and Heterotopias. Architecture /Mouvement/ Continuité October, 1984;. Web. 10 Oct. 2015 Green, John. Paper Towns. New York: Dutton, 2008. Print. Hansen, Sara., White, John K., The Making and Persistence of the American Dream (n.d.): n.pag. Tempress. Web. 12 Oct. 2015 Kerouac, Jack. On the Road. New York: Viking, 1997. Print. Salinger, J. D., E. Michael Mitchell, and Lotte Jacobi. The Catcher in the Rye. N.p.: n.p., n.d. Print. Silva, Jason. "The Power of a Story." YouTube. YouTube, 17 Feb. 2015. Web. 23 Oct. 2015. Topinka, Robert. “Foucault, Borges, Heterotopia: Producing Knowledge in Other Spaces”. Foucalt Studies No. 9. Sept. 2010. Web.1 Nov. 2015. The Beautiful Part, a screenplay. FADE IN: CLASSICAL MUSIC-maybe TCHAIKOVSKY- begins to play. EXT. DAVID AND PETER’S DRIVEWAY-LATE IN THE DAY DAVID’S P.O.V.-A hand lifted to the evening sky jumps back and forth between obscuring the sun and cradling it. David, a big-faced and wide-smiled twenty-something, lies on his back in the bed of a rusted truck, alternating closing his eyes to switch his perspective on his raised hand. A SMALL BLEEP interrupts the music. David reluctantly drops his hand to answer his phone without checking it. DAVID Do you need me?... Yeah. Yeah, of course. I’ll be there. David hangs up the phone and lies still for a beat, eyes still on the sky. The sound of the truck DOOR OPENING rustles him up. DAVID Dude, are you stealing my car? PETER, a thinner, paler, more-put together young man, startles and drops the keys. PETER Jesus, Dave, what are you doing? David, amused, leaps from the truck bed. He snatches the keys up off of the ground and shakes them at Peter. DAVID Working. Peter gives David a dubious look. David sighs. DAVID In order to write stories, I have to come up with them, Peter. I was contemplating the complexity of my own magnificent mind here in the Lady Bertha. David gestures toward the car. DAVID …until you, if I’m not mistaken, tried to borrow her without asking. I†’s cool though. I was feeling overworked anyway. David stretches back against the door of his truck. DAVID How did your appointment go? Peter swipes the keys from David. He tries to shove past David into the car. David easily blocks him, pulling him into a half headlock/ half hug that Peter resists. DAVID What is it? Dude, know… that if you’re pregnant, I will stand by you. David reaches out to caress Peter’s cheek. Peter slaps his hand away. DAVID You don’t have to do this alone. PETER You’re such an idiot. DAVID Hey, I’m not the one who went and got knocked up. David swats the keys from Peter’s hand. PETER Are you physically incapable of taking anything seriously? David sobers for a moment, allowing Peter to take the keys from him. DAVID Is there something I need to take seriously? Peter pivots around him, taking a seat in the driver’s spot of the car. DAVID I know you hate going to these appointments, but it’s good you do. Don’t let them kill your mood for the whole day though. They may not be worth it if you feel like shit once week. PETER We don’t need to go into it now. DAVID But everything’s good, right? PETER Yeah. Yeah, man. I just need your car. Peter closes the door on David. He takes a shaky breath and checks his phone. The background is a picture of him, wearing a graduation cap and gown, smiling next to a stiff, slouched, middle-aged man, and there are no notifications. Peter starts the car with a sickly RUMBLE. Both the service-engine-soon light and the low-gas light blink on. A DOOR SLAMS. Suddenly, David is in the passenger seat, fastening his seatbelt. DAVID Looks like you’re driving me to Horizons then. Peter turns in his seat. PETER Horizons? Are you— ? DAVID No, dude, not me. Annie’s out today. PETER No way. I mean, that’s great. But... I’m like… chillingly terrified of your sister. DAVID Well, obviously. PETER I don’t think she likes me. David laughs and turns up the classical CD emanating from his stereo. DAVID Yeah. PETER Wow, wait, why doesn’t she like me? DAVID I don’t know that she doesn’t like you. She said once that you were beige. PETER What? That’s so… what does that even mean? David reclines his seat, propping his legs out the window. DAVID I wouldn’t worry about it. She’s probably just afraid you’re smarter than she is. PETER ... Am I? DAVID There’s really no way to tell. PETER Find a way. For my ego. DAVID I can’t. You’re both bright in completely different ways. That would be like comparing a crystal chandelier to a lightning strike. Peter clutches the steering wheel a little tighter. PETER Technically, you can do that. I mean, they both wield electricity, only one is man-made and one is a natural phenomenon. There, comparison complete. DAVID Pete, it’s a metaphor. PETER It’s unnecessary. You’re such a writer. DAVID Thank you. He flourishes his hand in an affected bow. DAVID Look, I need to do this, so if you drive me to go get Annie, you can drop us off. Then you can take my sweet Bertha to do whatever it is you need to do. David pulls a crumpled joint out of his pocket and starts to light it. PETER Seriously? DAVID My car, my rules, sweet Pete. I’m practicing self-awareness. He takes a drag. DAVID I’m aware that this will make the next hour much more bearable. Maybe I’ll even be able to write about it. Then I would actually have have something to write about. PETER Still haven’t started your manuscript? DAVID Not one word. PETER You know that’s due on Sunday. That’s in seven days. David casts his eyes sideways at Peter. DAVID I am aware. Peter cranks down his window and backs out onto the street. PETER Annie and then home? David spreads his arms in a carefree gesture and talks around his now-lit joint. DAVID Annie and then you’re free. Peter nods to himself and turns up the music. As he pulls away, he glances back at their small house in the rearview mirror. He watches the home grow smaller in the distance until the low sun obscures it, filling the mirror with nothing but light. EXT. ROAD- CONTINUED The sun gleams off the rear of the truck as it carries David and Peter away from the driveway, through the arching oaks, down the quiet road. Peter’s arm hangs out one window. David’s feet dangle out the other. FADE IN: EXT. “HORIZONS” REHAB CENTER—EVENING Bertha pulls into an almost empty parking lot. A cheery welcome sign reads: “Horizons Rehab & Wellness: take the next exit toward recovery!” INT. “HORIZONS” REHAB CENTER WAITING ROOM- EVENING The waiting room is simple and bright. A series of pamphlets and maps line the door like a tourist stop. The pamphlets range from “Get high on Christ!” to “Heroin: Do you know the risks?” Peter and David enter. David leads them to a front desk where an elderly nurse, ANITA, waits. ANITA David! Welcome back! DAVID Why thank you, Miss Anita. How are you today? ANITA You know, I’m doin’. Big day, huh? I just need you to sign these papers and then I’ll take you to Annie. Though, I gotta say, I almost don’t want to. She’s grown on me. The nurse pushes a stack of papers toward David. DAVID She’ll do that. He signs the papers. Anita rounds the desk, leading the boys deeper into the facility. DAVID How is she? ANITA Good, good. She’s been bright today. INT. ANNIE’S ROOM. In the small, empty room, lit only by the light of the setting sun, ANNIE, a slender, clean-cut twenty-year-old, sits next to a packed duffle bag. Annie’s hand taps rapidly against her leg. She places her other hand carefully atop it to still herself. The door opens and the nurse walks in, followed by David, then Peter. Annie jumps up and faces David. ANNIE About time. Slowly but confidently, David spreads his arms. Annie grins. She charges David full force, causing him to stumble backwards. He closes his arms around her in a hug anyway. ANNIE You smell like weed. DAVID You smell like weird. Why is it so dark in here, you creep? Annie head butts his chest playfully. They both ignore Anita’s look of concern at the mention of drugs. Peter flicks the lights on. Two fluorescents BUZZ LOUDLY to life overhead. Annie, Anita, and David all look up warily, as if the lights might break over them. When Annie’s gaze falls, it settles on Peter, noticing him for the first time. When she speaks, she addresses David. ANNIE You brought Peter? Peter shifts awkwardly. He attempts to comfortingly pat her shoulder before thinking better of it. He can’t seem to decide what to do with that hand. Thankfully, he has a pocket. PETER Hi, Annie. How’ve you been? Annie lifts an eyebrow at Peter. She pointedly looks around the room. PETER Right. Sorry. Annie walks to the light switch. ANNIE Fluorescents make everything ugly. I’d rather it be dark. Annie flips the lights back off. The BUZZING stops. Peter flinches. David puts an arm on both Annie and Peter’s shoulders, attempting to ease the tension. He turns toward Anita. DAVID Are we good to go? ANITA That’s up to you, Annie? Are you ready, sweetie? Annie slings her duffle bag over her shoulder. Peter sidesteps this action as to not get hit. ANNIE I am really, very, terribly ready. Anita smiles affectionately. ANITA Then let’s move. Anita leads the group out of the room. Peter, the last to the exit, pauses at the door. He rubs his eyes and blinks hard at the now relatively dark room. After a moment of apparent distress, he slams the lights back on and backs out of the room. CUT TO: EXT. “HORIZONS”- NIGHT. As the doors of the lobby open, Annie bolts ahead of Peter and David, running without abandon toward the truck. David watches her happily, but Peter shoots David a nervous glance. Annie stumbles to a stop, drops her duffle bag and throws her arms up. ANNIE Oh, Victory, forget your underwear, we are free! As David and Peter catch up to her, David tosses her bag in the truck bed and ruffles her hair. DAVID You know, if you wanted to convince me that you’re not on LSD, you may not want to quote Allen Ginsberg too excessively. Annie slaps a hand on David’s back like a proud parent. ANNIE You knew that was Ginsberg. DAVID Alright know-it-all, who’s the one actually studying Literature? Annie hops into the truck bed. ANNIE You take classes, but I’ve been stuck in a grandmother’s house of a rehab facility with no solace but the books people left behind. I can hold my own. And can we just go ahead and establish that we’re not going to make this a lecture-based conversation? DAVID I wasn’t going to lecture you. ANNIE You were going to check up on me, to make me prove that I’m ‘clean.’ I promise, the last three months have been enough. It’s been enough lectures and checking in. I’ve reached my quota of sad and bad and I would just really like to be done with that now. She tilts her head back toward the night sky. ANNIE Can we just celebrate now? Can we be happy, please? Everyone is silent for a moment. Annie stares at the now very present stars. David stares down at his feet, nodding. Peter looks between the two of them before breaking the silence. PETER You know, Annie, there are enough seats inside the truck. Annie answers Peter without looking at him. ANNIE I’m celebrating, Peter. Peter and David nod at one another. Peter glances at the darkening sky and tosses the keys to David. PETER Your turn. The two boys move silently to their places in the truck. They fasten their seatbelts. PETER I think your sister lives her entire life outside of my comfort zone. DAVID Yeah. But it probably bodes well for your future as a neurosurgeon that LSD addictions aren’t exactly your forte. Peter shifts uncomfortably. David notices. DAVID Pete? David starts the car when Peter doesn’t respond. He starts to pull out of the parking lot. The Classical music station sputters back to life—always in the background. DAVID You want to tell me what’s up? PETER I just want you to stop talking about me becoming a doctor. Can you maybe not bring that up any more? DAVID You don’t want me to talk about you becoming a doctor… Seriously? You’ve been talking about being a surgeon since you could talk. I can’t get you to stop talking about it. Did you get an A- on your exam or something? Just as David pulls the truck out of the Horizons entrance, it GURGLES, SPUTTERS and then coasts to a stop. Peter notices the low-gas light. He slowly moves his narrowed eyes back to David, who is grinning back guiltily. He shrugs. DAVID Do you have any idea how expensive gas is right now? PETER No. And I don’t plan on enlightening myself. Driver has to get the gas. CUT TO EXT. ROADSIDE- NIGHT. SOFT CLASSICAL MUSIC still plays from the car radio, mingling with the BUZZ OF GRASSHOPPERS. ANNIE’S P.O.V.-The clear blueprint of the sky jumps from left to right, side to side. Annie lies in the truck bed, playing the same game as her brother—closing one eye, then the other, staring at the sky. The stars burn through the darkness, creating a substantial light cast over the lonely truck. Peter stands outside the truck, pacing, nervously snapping his fingers. Occasionally, he glances at Annie until his anxiousness breaks his silence. PETER Do you think he’s okay? Do you think I should have gone with him? Annie answers him without sitting up or stopping her blinking. ANNIE I think that it’s David. I think that a serial killer would sooner ask him to be his best man at his wedding than step on his pinky toe. Peter stops to consider the truth of this. He nods, then turns to look at Annie who is still blinking at the sky. PETER Why do you both do that? ANNIE What? PETER That thing. With the eyes. And the blinking. ANNIE You’re asking me why we blink? Have you ever considered the very real possibility that you may be a robot, Peter? PETER Yes, I have. And no, I’m not. But, no, you know, the… thing. He mimics the movement, closing one eye than the other- the accentuation of this action makes his face clownish. Annie lets out a short laugh at his expense and sits up. She sizes him up for moment before she gives him an answer. ANNIE Our dad does that with us. He said it was to remind us that we could change our world with the blink of an eye. She winks. PETER Clever. ANNIE Yeah. Hopeful. PETER Hopeful? Really? I think the idea that your whole world can change in “the blink of an eye”... He kicks a rock into the darkness of the woods and looks after it, then down at his hands. PETER That’s like, the scariest fucking thing. ANNIE Of course you think so. Peter snaps back. PETER That’s another thing you and your brother have in common. You’re both convinced that you have me figured out. You know, I kind of resent— Suddenly, David jumps from behind the truck with a shout. He tackles a completely startled Peter. Peter squeals. When he realizes it’s David, he clutches his heart and pants. PETER I thought… I thought you were a grizzly. DAVID (To Annie) He’s really afraid of grizzly bears. PETER They are the masters of the forest and they deserve our fear, dickhead! DAVID Look, I have a gallon of gas and… for my sweet Pete’s sweet tooth… David fumbles in his pocket and pulls out a smashed cake package, exalting it like a sacred object. DAVID …Swiss Rolls. PETER Heavenly sponges. You are forgiven. DAVID Sorry for the delay. Bertha is all yours as soon as we get back, as promised. Annie’s face falls. David moves to pour the gas into the tank. ANNIE Wait, what? You’re giving him your car? DAVID Not for good. Just for… wait, how long do you need her for? PETER Uh- Indefinitely? David considers this for a moment, then shrugs, placated. DAVID Sounds good. Annie jumps out of the truck bed, reeling on David. ANNIE No. No, you can’t give him your car indefinitely. PETER Why not? ANNIE Because… I need it. Peter stalks away from where Annie stands and climbs into the driver’s seat of the car. PETER That’s very unfortunate for you. DAVID Wait, why do you need it? ANNIE I had something planned. I just need it. DAVID Okay, first- People need to start producing better explanations than “I just need it.” Second, Bertha is a she, not an it, and third, I’m sorry, Annie, but I promised her to Peter. David takes his place in the passenger seat. Rather than returning to the truck bed, Annie scurries after David and takes a spot in the back seat of the truck, leaning between the two boys as she continues her plea. ANNIE Davey, I just got out of rehab. Rehab. That’s crazy shit. I checked myself in. I behaved like a normal human being. I deserve something for that. I need an ice cream cone. DAVID We can absolutely go get ice cream. ANNIE Since when are you so literal? No. No, look at this. Peter swerves, suddenly. DAVID You good? PETER Yeah. Suicidal deer. The road is absolutely empty- no sign of life. David looks at Peter curiously, but Peter does not budge- He stares straight into the night, his knuckles white on the wheel. He flips on his brights. Annie, annoyed, wrestles a folded map out of her back pocket and unfolds it in front of David, obscuring Peter’s vision. Peter smacks it out of his way. DAVID What is this a map of? ANNIE It’s a map to a story, Davey. David turns to face her, surprised. DAVID What? ANNIE My first week in “Horizons,” we had to take this class called “Finding New Horizons”. I know, painfully clever, right? It was all about fresh beginnings, new leaves, all that really cliché shit. But they talked about sunrises and how the supposedly most beautiful sunrises in America are only beautiful because they have a series of ideal conditions. Like they don’t just happen to be a beautiful thing, they’re set up for success by all of these other factors, like they’re beautiful because they have the support of the world. Peter shoots David a dubious look, but David is intrigued. Peter pulls into the driveway of their home, shuts off the engine, and climbs out gruffly. David follows Peter. Annie follows David. ANNIE Isn’t that an idea? That the sunrises need help? Anyway, I needed something to focus on, you know, other than me. So I got Anita to get me this map and we planned a route. You told me that you didn’t need to go to class; you just needed something to write about that you could submit by the end of the semester, right? You told me that you wanted something to chase. Chase this. She stops walking. David stops with her. Annie waves her hand, indicating the possibility. David follows the motion. Peter grabs Annie’s bags out of the truck bed and continues moving toward the house. ANNIE Brother and sister take on the roads of America to chase a few kickass sunrises and general hooliganism. I already told my boss that I wouldn’t be back until Friday so we could do this. PETER (sparking an interest)Friday? DAVID Friday? Where would we be would we be going? ANNIE (gaining confidence from his interest)The last one is in Yosemite National Park. It will take two full days driving to get there and back. We have stops in Kansas and Arizona. If we leave tonight and alternate who drives and who sleeps, we can make it back by Thursday night. Bring your laptop. Write on the road. Fix it up when we get back, and turn it in in the morning. It will be like an intensive workshop. INT. PETER AND DAVID’S HOME. Followed by Annie and David, Peter enters the house, drops Annie’s bag at the door, and hurriedly hits the light switch, illuminating the small living room. It waits dimly lit against the heavy night. The room is decorated with movie posters and books. On one wall there is a poster that says “Pete and Dave’s” that has a picture of David laughing at the camera and a picture of Peter accepting an award. On the bottom it is signed: ‘Enjoy your home, boys! Love, Momma Applebaum’. On the other wall, an impressive, if self-indulgent, series of academic awards, made out to Peter Applebaum, clutter the bookshelves. It feels neither messy nor neat. Peter immediately disappears down a hallway, flipping on lights as he goes. David and Annie linger in the living room. David plops unto a stained couch. Annie follows and places the map on his lap. DAVID So across the country. And you want to just go? Just jump in the truck and go now? ANNIE Yes. We have everything we need: an idea, a car, and nowhere else to be. Peter reappears wearing a backpack. He leans against the hallway frame. PETER I’m sorry you have nowhere else be, Annie, but that’s irrelevant. Because you, in fact, do not have a car. I have a car. The car is mine. My car. DAVID My car. PETER His car. Temporarily, mine. Annie stands and squares herself to Peter. ANNIE What could you possibly need Bertha for? PETER It isn’t your business. DAVID Could it be mine? I mean, if you’re going to take my car indefinitely, I feel like I could know why. Peter gawks at David, then Annie, then David again. Finally, he throws his hands up in surrender. PETER Fine. I won’t take the stupid car. I just needed to get… doesn’t matter. Go chase the freaking sunset or whatever. I don’t care. A moment of silence as David considers both Peter and Annie’s expectant faces. DAVID I think we will. Annie brightens, while Peter looks as if David’s hit him. DAVID But only if you come with us. Annie and Peter scoff in unison. DAVID Come on, you feel like you need to escape, and Annie has conveniently produced an escape plan. It’s fate. Plus, this way, you won’t have to drive by yourself. Peter’s hurt is replaced with surprise. Still, he shakes his head. PETER Look, I’m sorry but I just can’t do that. Annie jumps on his response, unsurprised. She grabs David’s arm and starts to lead him away. ANNIE Don’t push him. He won’t come. You know Peter— of course he won’t come. Peter’s face shifts. He looks to his awards mounted on the walls. He looks to the picture of himself on the poster. BEGIN MONTAGE: INSTRUMENTAL MUSIC PLAYS over this. Everything else should be silent. 1.INT. A GRAND UNIVERSITY ROOM- ABOUT A YEAR AGO A pious and elderly man places the award into Peter’s eager hands and gives him a pat on the back. In this moment, a camera flash goes off. Peter, brighter than we’ve yet seen him, accepts the award and beams into the applauding audience. He finds David who rolls his eyes good naturedly as he claps, holding the camera. Peter raises his award to him in triumph, hamming up his victory. 2.INT. DOCTOR’S OFFICE- EARLIER THAT DAY An elderly male doctor paces in the office. He points to a brain scan as he explains it. Peter sits still on the patient’s table. His eyes are red. He blinks hard. 3. INT. HALLWAY- CONTINUED The drop of blood from his thumb hits the marble floor. 4. INT. BERTHA- EARLIER THAT EVENING The sunlight fills the rearview mirror. END FLASHBACK PETER Dave… Both David and Annie shoot their attention to Peter. Peter tightens the shoulder straps on his backpack. PETER Retrieve the emergency snacks. Peter flicks the keys toward David, who catches them with a grin that promises a good idea. CUT TO: INT. BERTHA—NIGHT The only sounds are the WHEELS AGAINST PAVEMENT. Junk food wrappers already clutter the car. David drives, glancing nervously down at the dashboard while Peter, in the passenger seat, glances nervously at David. Annie eats a Swiss Roll in the back. PETER This was not a good idea. ANNIE (talking around a mouthful of food) This was a magnificent idea. You coming was not a good idea. DAVID You both have good ideas. It’s fine. We just need to find a gas station… Like really soon. He glances back at the meter, which measures below Empty. DAVID Like, now. As David finishes his sentence, Annie bounces forward, pointing at a dim light in the distance off the next exit. ANNIE There! The Shell Station sign flickers as the boys notice it. As their hope rises, the ‘S’ gives up and goes out. PETER & DAVID (in frightened unison) Hell… David considers the near emptiness of his tank, then, despite his wariness, he takes the exit toward the station that we can now see is even more dilapidated than the sign—bars cover the windows and an sign promotes $20 hand guns. The car is very quiet. PETER Yeah. We definitely die here. Both Annie and David nod. EXT. “HELL STATION”- THE WEE HOURS. David finishes pumping gas into Bertha, shaking the pump to ensure every last drop is used. A ragged man watches him from the curb. Peter stretches their legs outside of the car, staying under the fluorescent light of overhang. Annie goes to talk to David as he pumps. ANNIE Peter is here. DAVID So he is. ANNIE Why is Peter here? David sighs. DAVID He needs it. He only goes to his classes and doctor’s appointments recently. This will be good… Or, you know, a disaster. ANNIE Class and doctor’s appointments… She makes a disgusted sound as David, grimacing watches the price go up and up. ANNIE Appointments to see if they have to surgically remove the stick from his ass? DAVID To keep an eye on his nervous system. So he doesn’t end up like his, Dad. ANNIE Oh. DAVID Yeah. Everyone has a reason for why they are their own weird. Maybe even you. Annie rolls her eyes, but turns to watch Peter pacing. She leaves David ogling the pump. ANNIE Oy, Peter. As Peter looks up, she snaps a picture of him on a digital camera. Annie laughs as she walks over to Peter, showing him the image of him grimacing, positioned perfectly under the ‘Hell’ sign. ANNIE I’m entitling it “unbridled robot joy.” Peter snorts a laugh but shakes his head. PETER Come, they said; it would be fun, they said. Annie feigns surprise. ANNIE You’re not having fun? Mimicking Annie in her room at Horizons, Peter pointedly looks around at his surroundings, raising his eyebrows. Annie shrugs. ANNIE I kinda am. David walks up to them, his shoulders holding a perpetual shrug, much like Annie’s. DAVID So as much as I hate practicality, I feel like I should mention, that I have no practical idea for how we are going to keep affording gas all the way across the country. ANNIE Peter, don’t you have money? DAVID Annie— ANNIE What? I’m really not trying to be rude. It’s just we’re using your car, my plan, it makes sense if… PETER It’s my savings. DAVID Drop it, Annie. For the first time yet, Annie seems truly discouraged. Peter, on the other hand, releases a small sigh of relief. PETER You know, we should probably just turn— The approach of the ragged man, whose name happens to be CARL, interrupts Peter. Carl is threatening, but it is not apparent why. His clothes are dirty and torn, but not inappropriate. His beard and trucker hat obscure most of his face. He could be thirty, or he could be fifty. CARL You folks say you’re goin’ cross the country? For a moment, nobody answers. Then, Peter squeaks out a hurried excuse. PETER Actually… we’re going home. We have people waiting on us and monitoring exactly how long we’re gone, so… Peter starts to stumble backwards toward Bertha. Annie moves to follow, but David stays put. DAVID Are you all right, sir? Carl removes his hat, which reveals a less threatening face. He smiles at the word ‘sir.’ CARL I just need to make it to Hazard, Man. DAVID Hazard? CARL Hazard, Kentucky. It’s right at the border. Only a few hours away. No one knows how to respond. There is an uncomfortably long silence CARL I’ll buy your next tank of gas? Again, no one answers. Peter looks at David; David looks at Annie; Annie stares squarely at Carl. ANNIE What’s your name? CARL Carl. ANNIE Hi, Carl. Annie evens her gaze. ANNIE If you could be any type of tree, what tree would you be? CARL Tree? ANNIE Tree. Carl scratches at his beard. CARL Huh. Weird question. I guess I’d be an Oak. ANNIE Why’s that? CARL Deep roots, ma’am. Annie considers this with a small smile before nodding and waving Carl toward the car. ANNIE (to Peter and David as she walks by) A serial killer would have never chosen Oak. Peter stares at David in disbelief. DAVID She’s got a talent for reading people. Hasn’t been wrong yet. David takes a deep breath and makes his way to the car as well. Peter frowns after them before following, propelled forward by nothing but a lack of better (or any) options. CUT TO: TUESDAY INT. Bertha- Early hours of the morning Peter sleeps against the window, drooling. Carl watches from across the seat bench, Annie watches from the passenger seat. ANNIE What do you think he dreams about? CARL Depends. What kind of man is he? ANNIE Not a man. He’s a robot. Without opening his eyes, Peter quickly wipes his drool away from his cheek. PETER I’m not… a robot Peter considers his surroundings, landing on and flinching at Carl. PETER We’re really here. It wasn’t a dream. Oh, god. DAVID Mornin’, sunshine. ANNIE Sorry about that. You seemed pretty out. PETER Yeah, I didn’t get a lot of sleep earlier. CARL I’m sorry. If it was cause of me. PETER It wasn’t because of you… you didn’t help, but it wasn’t because of you. DAVID Do you mind driving the next bit? I need to knock out. PETER Why doesn’t Annie drive? ANNIE I’m observing, watching the country fly by in glimpses. I’m Dean Moriarty-ing, not driving. PETER Dean Moriarty absolutely drove. And he was a dick. ANNIE You know what else is a dick? The injustice of reality. Welcome to it. PETER I reject that. You drive. I refuse to. I refuse to on behalf of fairness and detestation of Dean Moriarty. CARL Is this a friend of yours? ANNIE You can’t be on a road trip and hate Kerouac. PETER I don’t hate Kerouac. I hate Moriarty. And I’m not driving. CUT TO: INT. BERTHA—Morning. Peter drives, of course. David sits in the passenger seat with a pen and a notepad, writing nothing. Carl and Annie play a card game in the backseat. ANNIE So what’s in Hazard? PETER Other than Daisy Dukes. CARL My wife. My kids. The Perry County Fair. DAVID Everything, Huh? PETER That’s not everything. CARL Course it is. PETER The Perry County Fair is everything? CARL I took my wife, Claire, to the Perry County Fair first time we went out together. ANNIE How’d you meet her? CARL At the local news station. I’d just started workin, tellin’ the weather. She said she trusted me to tell her if it was gonna rain. Before our first date, she told me she was nervous. She wanted to know what she should wear. I told her it was s’posed to be clear skies all night. She showed up in this little, white sundress. Pretty, little thing. Skimpy though. She’d roll her eyes at any girl wearin’ the same thing now. Anyway, It poured. I mean it poured. Heaviest rain we’d had in years. You could see right through that white dress. David laughs, then opens his notepad DAVID Carl, do you mind if I write this down? Carl shrugs. ANNIE You knew it was going to rain, didn’t you? Carl smiles CARL She punched me on the Pirate’s Ship. That’s our daughter’s favorite ride. I think it’s ‘cause she loves that story. She likes punchin’ boys, too. ANNIE Why are you here? Carl nods at Peter CARL I’m an idiot, too. I’m also a weatherman. I got sick of rain and cold. Things get hard in the winter here, you know? I didn’t think I was making enough money to tell people it was gonna rain every mornin’. I wasn’t making enough money period. And then, at the end of the day, I had to go home, in the rain, to tell Claire I wasn’t making enough money to patch our leaking roof. Now, David is turned in his seat, scribbling. Everyone is listening. A light drizzle starts to fall against the window. CARL I got tired of it rainin’ under my own roof. Like I couldn’t escape it. Got tired of letting people down. That’s even harder to escape. ANNIE Where’d you go? CARL Tallahassee. I wanted to tell people that it was gonna be sunny every day. PETER But isn’t that— didn’t you ever think that was selfish? CARL Didn’t doubt it for a second. PETER But you just left? CARL Funny thing is, Claire used to complain that I never took her on vacation. She wanted to go somewhere together. Complained that I never wanted to leave. Then, yeah. Yeah, I just left without her. Isn’t that such an unforgivable thing to do? And now, I’m trying to be forgiven for it. Now, I’m trying to come back. PETER Can you do that? DAVID You can do anything. CARL God and wife permitting. PETER I don’t know. That just doesn’t seem like how it works. CARL How what works? PETER Adulthood? Life CARL (laughs) In my experience with life, nothing is how it works. It just works. Or it doesn’t. But the ‘how’ is up to the weather. Annie jumps to gaze out the window. ANNIE Oak trees! Dozens of tall, grasping oak trees loom over the two-lane road. CARL Can you pull off up here? The car comes to a stop at the bottom of a long driveway, leading up to a modest house in the distance. Hardly visible, CLAIRE busies herself on the porch as a small girl plays in the yard. Carl climbs out of the back David reaches out the passenger window and removes the hat off of Carl’s head and places it into his hands. DAVID You’ll do better without the hat. ANNIE Looked a little murdery. CARL You should probably keep it then. Carl tosses the hat to Peter. CARL Ward off crazies at gas stations. Peter puts it on. PETER Thanks, man. CARL Thanks for thinking what my story was worth listenin’ to. Carl nods to the notebook on David’s lap. CARL Writing it down. It took me a long time to make my way back here. Most people are too scared to listen. So thank you. The rain starts to pick up as Carl squints back up at his house. Claire stands still facing the driveway, noticing Carl. Carl uses the wetness of the rain to smooth back his hair. PETER Do you want us to wait for you here? You know, just in case? With the rain? CARL You know what I learned in Florida? Hurricanes don’t make you nervous if you don’t have nothin’ to protect. I’d rather be nervous, than have nothin’ to protect. With a wave, Carl turns and makes his way up to his house. Peter, David, and Annie watch him fade into the rain, but not long enough to watch him reach the house, not long enough to get a clue of how his story might end. DAVID I think I might love that strange weatherman. Peter and Annie nod. PETER Do you think she’ll forgive him? ANNIE I hope so. I hope he takes her on vacation. DAVID Yeah. Yeah, that would be good. PETER In a perfect world. ANNIE Or in this one. DAVID Doesn’t it feel sad that we’ll never know for sure? We know his story but we can’t know how it ends? PETER You can make it up? ANNIE Or just keep driving and live with it. DAVID Yeah… David shifts Bertha into gear. He takes one more look toward the house and the family disappearing behind the rain. DAVID Onward. CUT TO: Int. Bertha- Day TCHAIKOVSKY- ROMEO AND JULIET OVERTURE PLAYS. David drives. Annie’s passenger window is down. The rain falls in. Her arm, flung out the open window, catches the water, which runs down her skin like veins. Drops fly off of her extended fingers back into the air. Peter watches, wearing Carl’s hat. Peter rolls down his window. Slowly, he extends his neck so that his whole face is outside of the truck. As the water hits his face, he blinks at the oak trees zooming by. In the passenger side mirror, he sees Annie smile. He smiles back. DAVID What if people did this? Both Peter and Annie’s focus shifts toward David, coming back into the truck and rolling up their windows. DAVID What if everyone just listened to people? Just drove around the country and let people tell their stories. Listened. Do you have any idea how much we’d learn, if we just collected everything that people have to say? How much that would mean to them? Why can’t that be a requirement to be graduate, to just listen to people like Carl, who are ready to be honest about themselves, their stories? Why can’t we do that? PETER Because not everyone’s a Carl. Some people would chop off our limbs and use them to play croquet. ANNIE Beyond that unlikely but colorful possibility, we don’t have unlimited gas to pay for unlimited stories. David checks the tank, which is beginning to near empty again and sighs. PETER Humanity doesn’t fuel Ford. David perks up and almost swerves off of the road. DAVID What if it did? PETER Come again? DAVID What if it did? What if that was how we got to Yosemite? If we found people who needed lifts or just wanted to be a part of this, be a part of an adventure. They paid for the ride with a tank of gas and their story? I could write it. I could write everything down. That’s my manuscript. While David continues to formulate his idea, tapping his fingers frantically to the music. ANNIE Your story could be their stories… David stops drumming and smiles at his sister. DAVID Yes. Yes. God. God, that’s so freaking… human. A moment of silence while Peter glances between David and Annie PETER I don’t want to be the bad guy… ANNIE Don’t you though? PETER But what about the croquet playing serial killers? DAVID We’ll have criteria. We’ll all have to agree on someone before they enter Bertha. And we’ll have rules. They’ll have to like make an oath or something. You have to be honest… PETER You have to buy a tank… ANNIE And you can’t remove anybody’s limbs for antiquated sport. Peter pulls Carl’s hat down over his eyes. PETER Foolproof. CUT TO: INT. BERTHA- DAY. Bertha is parked. Signs and the GASPS of stopping buses make it clear that Annie sits in the driver’s seat scouting the bustling people that walk by the car. David reads something on a phone. Peter buckles and unbuckles his seatbelt in the back. PETER This is weird. We’re weird. ANNIE I feel like we’re hunting. This isn’t exciting when we’re forcing it. DAVID Hitchwiki says that bus stations are the most likely place to pick up hitchhikers. It says it’s really common. Annie attempts smiling at a passerby who noticeably flinches. PETER Does it say it’s common to attract them by barring your teeth, Annie? ANNIE To assert dominance. DAVID It says to wait in your car and look approachable and look for people with signs or people who will approach you. Have a brief dialogue before letting them into your vehicle. Don’t be afraid to say no. Don’t be afraid to answer their questions as they are likely be nervous as well. PETER Is this an actual guide to kidnapping? DAVID Don’t knock hitchwiki. This is like a whole culture. People still do this. It’s American. PETER It’s bizarre. Peter touches Carl’s cap on his head. PETER I just want Carl back. He pulls it down over his eyes. A knock on his window startles him. Outside, a nondescript clean-cut older man with a suitcase from another era waits, smiling a grandfatherly smile. Peter rolls down the window. MAN Are you picking? PETER Picking? MAN Are you picking up? Hitchikers? You’re just parked here, waiting… DAVID Yessir, we are. I’m David. MAN Roland. David reaches across the car to shake Roland’s hand in front of Peter’s face. Peter sniffs Rolands’s wrist. Roland notices and furrows his brow at Peter, who shrugs. PETER I’m new to this. ROLAND What exactly were you sniffing for, boy? PETER Cocaine… human blood… Roland considers this for a moment then laughs. ROLAND Fair. Where are you kids headed? DAVID We have three stops. Strong City, Kansas. Chambers, Arizona. Then Yosemite. ROLAND Hikers? PETER Sunrise chasers. MATT Cute. A little silly, but you couldn’t be killers then. Can you give me a lift as far as Jefferson City? PETER Could you pitch in for a tank of gas? ROLAND Sure, thing. DAVID And tell us your life story? Roland chuckles, surprised. ROLAND If you promise not to interrupt me. DAVID Hop on in. Peter scoots over as Roland grasps the door handle. ANNIE Wait. Roland freezes. ANNIE Roland, what’s your favorite Holiday? ROLAND Thanksgiving. ANNIE Family? Roland considers. ROLAND No. History. Annie nods, unsure. ANNIE Is that why you hitchhike, too? Roland smiles at her. ROLAND Smart girl. Yeah, I suppose that’s it. Pushing West and what have you. History. Yeah, following history. ANNIE Well, then. Let’s move West, Roland. David smiles at Peter in the rearview and mouths “it’s American.” Roland plops into his seat with great effort and looks around at the occupants of the car. ROLAND So you want a story? I have a story. Because I got one hell of a story. Won’t find another one like it. David pulls out his pen and notebook. DAVID Do you mind if I write this down? MONTAGE: A series of shots of travelers, in the car with Peter, Annie, and David, always shifting. It should be a diverse group of different genders, ages, and types, talking, listening, singing, sharing a Swiss Roll with Peter. Peter, Annie, and David should be in different seats each shot. David should usually be writing. Peter checks his phone frequently. David throws it in the glove compartment. These interior shots should be mixed with exterior shots of the road: signs, scenes of both nature and man-made sprawl, bus stations and gas stations. Annie takes a picture of Peter at each gas station. Welcome to Kansas. Bertha parks in a dark national park parking lot. Peter, Annie, and David run out. An exterior shot of the sign for Tallgrass Prairie National reserve being drenched in rain as the sky lightens to a bright gray. Annie, David, and Peter re-enter the car, drenched and frowning. Annie rings out her hair, flicking it on Peter’s face. They laugh as Peter pulls the car back onto the parkway. More Faces. Welcome to Colorful Colorado. Welcome New Mexico: Land of Enchantment. More exterior shots. Welcome to Arizona: The Grand Canyon State Welcomes You. End Montage. Int. BERTHA- Evening. Bertha is trashed with wrappers and maps, but mostly with sheets torn out of David’s notebook, sprawled across the back seat. The sheets are covered in writing and are each topped with a name: Romona, Lee, Roland, Carl… etc. Peter drives. Annie rides shotgun. David sits in the back amongst his papers and an open laptop. He finishes typing something. DAVID Done… I’m done! ANNIE You’re done typing them up? DAVID No, I think I’m done with the entire manuscript. It’s more than long enough. This is it. I have ascended. I am triumphant. I’m done. ANNIE Congratulations, Edmund Hilary. You’re a writer in two days. Good, too. Because we’re not going to make it back by Thursday night. David nods. ANNIE Did you have a favorite? DAVID Roland. Dude, I could’ve written the whole manuscript about him in Vietnam. And his sister. And how they recreate their reunion… ANNIE Every five years by hitchhiking across the country to meet in the middle. Yeah. I wish I had a sister like that. DAVID Would you do that for me? ANNIE If you went to war. DAVID What if I went to graduate school? ANNIE Sure. If we could meet anywhere other than Kansas. DAVID Deal… Do you have a favorite? ANNIE I’m holding out for possibility. What about you, Peter? PETER Still Carl. David and Annie nod. After a moment of silence, presumably for Carl, David whoops. He sticks his head out the window and the breeze whips the loose papers around the car. A few of them slip out the window, but David is undisturbed. PETER Woah… David grips Peter’s shoulder from behind and shakes them playfully. More sheets escape on the wind, the stories fluttering up and away from the car. DAVID It doesn’t matter. They’re on hard copy now! PETER (unconvinced) Still littering. DAVID Let’s go get a beer. Let’s go find a place to get a beer. Anywhere. I need to get out of this car and celebrate. Take the next exit. PETER Whatever you say. Bertha veers off toward the next exit. FADE IN: Ext. BAR- NIGHT. Bertha pulls up to a small bar, lit by neon light, with a full parking lot. CUT TO: INT. BAR- CONT’D The three walk into a low-lit room that looks much like one would expect the first random bar in the middle of nowhere to look: the air filled with smoke and scratchy radio music, the patrons filled with disinterest for the outsiders. In the back, there’s a pool table being played by a group of man-bunned clones, only discernable by their varying facial hair, eye-wear, and the color of their flannels. This group obviously only comes here for the novelty. DAVID (starting to walk toward the bar) I’ll grab drinks. Peter puts up his hand to stop him. PETER I don’t think so. You’re going to be a writer. You can’t afford drinks. David laughs as Annie leads him deeper into the scene. Peter approaches the counter and attempts to get the bartender’s attention. The bartender holds a finger up to him as she continues a casual conversation at the other end of the bar. Peter checks over his shoulder at David and Annie standing near the pool table, comfortable. Annie laughs hard at something David says about the clones. Peter checks his phone, which is-of course- blank, and settles down for the long wait at the bar stool. CUT TO: Int. Off the Roadhouse- Cont’d. Peter struggles balancing the three beers in his hands as he makes his way back from the bar. He hesitates when he realizes that Annie and David are no longer alone, but in conversation with two of the clones, one with a goatee and one with glasses. They all hold plastic cups filled with beer from one of the clones’ pitchers. Peter places the three beers on the high table as he maneuvers his way into the circle, into a conversation about Cunningham, Kerouac, or some other pretentious thing. Noticing Peter, David downs his plastic cup and reaches for the glass Peter brought him. David hands Annie her drink, but she puts it down and continues sipping from her plastic cup. He leans in toward Peter. DAVID Thanks, man. I tried to get your attention but it’s so loud. PETER Oh yeah, no. No worries. David coughs loudly, pausing the conversation. DAVID Guys, this is Peter. Peter is going to save the world and take care of me in my old age. Peter, this is Beckett… The goateed man salutes. DAVID And Whitaker… The clone with glasses standing closest to Annie raises his hand in a small wave. WHITAKER Whit. DAVID Beckett and Whit are very kind sharers of beer. And they don’t mean to look so much alike. Peter takes a swig of beer. PETER I’m disappointed. I thought you were an Avett Brother tribute band. The clones laugh good-naturedly. Annie looks surprised. BECKETT Actually, we’re all brothers. We live right outside the city. He motions to the other clones, five others, playing pool. BECKETT But we just met Whit a few days ago, broken down on his way through Mesa. But he fits, doesn’t he? PETER Spookily. Beckett punches Whit lightly on the arm and sloshes some of his drink on him, which Whit politely ignores. BECKETT May be a long lost brother. Good dude. He fixed our fence, which has been broken for years. Last night, we were at Angel’s, which is a hell of a lot rougher than this. Both Bryce and Caz got their wallets stolen, so Whit here insisted on buying everyone’s drinks tonight. Good dude. Beckett sighs whistfully. BECKETT Oh and you need to see his paintings! I don’t know much about art, but I know that that shit’s good… Good painter. Good dude. TO WHIT! Beckett raises his glass toward his brothers who all stop their game to raise theirs back in a rigid salute. CLONES GOOD DUDE! Whit hides his face in his hands, but smiles. Beckett grabs his shoulder, swaying. BECKETT I think I need to go sit down. WHIT I think maybe that’s good. Beckett puts a palm against Whit’s cheek and shouts.. BECKETT I FREAKING LOVE YOU. Before stumbling away. Whit stays, shoving his hands into his pockets. DAVID Do you also save puppies from burning buildings? WHIT Only the three-legged ones. With cataracts. ANNIE You paint? WHIT I do. That’s what I’m doing here, actually. I’m working on a series of pastoral scenes across the country. The brothers have been fixing my car this week, so I get back at it tomorrow. Annie widens her eyes, Peter rolls his. PETER Painting across the country. Doesn’t sound like you can afford to be buying everyone’s drinks either. WHIT Actually it’s a commissioned project. David inhales a small gasp of either awe or envy. ANNIE Doesn’t commissioned mean soulless? WHIT Not if you find what you’re doing soulful. Being out there, in God’s nature untouched by man, you can feel him. It’s spiritual. Peter stifles a laugh and David elbows him in the ribs, though his lips are pressed together. Neither Annie nor Whit are paying enough attention to notice. WHIT Do you believe in that, Annie? ANNIE Do I believe in God? No. No, I don’t think so. Seems like a cop-out to me. WHIT No. No, God’s all about creation. Creativity. When I go out, into creation and allow myself to be inspired by it, that’s God. And then. Then, when I paint what inspires me, I’m working in tune with that. I am the God of that small thing. This time, Peter actually chokes on his sip of beer. David, coughing through his laughter, slaps him on the back before finishing his own drink. He throws an arm around Peter. DAVID We’re going to go grab more drinks. Both men maintain their faces until their backs are turned. Peter slams his forehead with the palm of his hand as David giggles. DAVID C’mon. Let’s get drunk and see if we start saying shit like that. Peter looks back to see Annie and Whit, settling in at the high top, leaning forward toward each other as they continue their conversation. PETER Let’s do it. CUT TO: INT. Roadhouse- Cont’d. David and Peter sit at the bar, laughing, with several empty glasses in front of them. Annie approaches with Whit. ANNIE So, I’m going to go see Whit’s paintings. WHIT You should all come. The brothers and I are set up at a campsite only about two miles down the road. My work’s there in my car. It’s a safe place to spend the night before we all hit the road in the morning. David and Peter regard one another. PETER Annie’s not going alone. DAVID We’ve got the time. I just have to get back in time to print my manuscript and turn it in. PETER None of us can drive. DAVID True, true. Wait, what about Lady Bertha? ANNIE (to Whit) His truck. WHIT If you don’t want to leave your car, you can give your keys to Caz. He doesn’t drink. We were going to all walk, but he could drive us. David considers this for a moment, unconvinced, but lacking in options. DAVID Which one’s Caz? Whit points out the nearest clone, walking by with a glass of water. DAVID OY, Caz. Caz turns, startled. David stands unsteadily and puts two hands on his shoulders. DAVID You and I need to have a very serious conversation about how to treat the Lady. CUT TO: Ext. Bertha- Night. The brothers are all wedged in the car. David, Peter, Annie, and Whit sit in the bed of the truck. David’s classical music can be faintly heard over the wind. DAVID TURN UP THE MUSIC. Someone obliges and the swelling piano now echoes through the open air. David closes his eyes, tilts his head, back and smiles. DAVID What a moment. WHIT Why this classical music? ANNIE Actually, I don’t think I’ve ever heard the answer to this. Peter smiles at David. He has. DAVID If classical music underscored the whole world, everything would feel more meaningful, you know? Like, I love words, intentional words, and words are how I choose to communicate my experience of the world, right? (beat) But when I’m actually experiencing it, when I’m actually having a moment, I don’t want the distraction of them. It’s best to just feel it, not talk about it. No one speaks. Eyes still closed, David raises his hands as if drawn up by puppet strings, and begins to conduct the music. Everyone watches. After a moment, Peter brings his finger to rest on the invisible piano in front of him. He begins to play. Whit takes up the violin. Annie becomes a dancer. Their vehemence builds along with the music. Their movements get sharper, more urgent, the wind picks up around them From far away, they are moving inexplicably, a mad orchestra in the bed of a truck. CUT TO: Ext. The Campsite- Night. The campsite is more of a big, open field with tents and cars set up sporadically. Bertha is parked a ways away from the clump of five tents that the brother’s saunter off to immediately after piling out of Berhta and the lone tent in the other direction next to a retro Volkswagen. WHIT I’ll be right back. He walks toward the lone tent. PETER So I guess, Annie, you can sleep in the back seat and David and I can sleep in the bed? David looks at Annie. ANNIE Actually. I’m pretty sure I’m going to sleep in that tent. She nods to where Whit is emerging, his arms full of blankets. PETER Oh. Right. Yeah, sure that makes—… Wait… Seriously? Annie ignores him as Whit approaches. Instead, she hugs David. ANNIE Proud of you. DAVID Proud of you. Whit approaches the car and tosses blankets to a sleepy David and a confused Peter. WHIT These should keep you warm enough. PETER Are there any bathrooms? Whit scoffs. WHIT There are woods! You don’t need bathrooms. We’re men! In our element. He reaches for Annie’s hand. WHIT You ready? She takes it. ANNIE Goodnight, guys. The two walk toward the secluded tent. David chuckles while Peter seems truly annoyed. PETER You know, when I take a dump in the woods, I look at that steaming pile of shit that I made out of nachos and gastric processes, and I think, I am the God of this small thing. David laughs loudly and falls back into the bed of the truck. Peter lies down beside him. DAVID God. Please tell me I don’t sound like that when I talk. PETER I think sometimes your sentiments are the same, but it’s different when it’s genuine. He just lays it on so thick. DAVID Yeah, well that’s how Annie likes it. Thick. Peter wrinkles his nose and waits for David to catch himself. It takes a moment. Peter laughs as David groans and covers his face with one of Whit’s blankets. DAVID Gross. No. I just meant that she likes people who are over-the-top. She’s all about intensity, right? So she goes for people who are too much. Concentrated. Usually out of control. PETER Yeah, well. That’ll never be me. David rolls so he is facing Peter. DAVID Do you want it to be? Peter lays still and silent for a beat before turning over, his back to David. David wiggles closer to him and tosses a heavy arm over him. DAVID Okay, you can be little spoon. But only because you may be into my sister and thus need as much comfort as you can get. PETER I’m not— DAVID Shh. Let it happen. A long pause. PETER David, I need to tell you something. But David is already out, breathing heavily through his mouth, fallen open. Peter sighs then adjusts, closing his eyes. CUT TO: Ext. Campsite- Night Peter wakes to David’s rumbling SNORES. He fishes out his phone from under his sleeping friend and carefully hops out of the truck bed. Peter walks to a clearing underneath the stars, away from the truck, sits down, and opens his phone. Nothing. Just his own face and the face of his father, staring back at him. He looks up at the stars, not in wonder but in defeat, then squeezes his eyes shut. He throws his phone but only a few feet away. ANNIE He throws beloved phone in a moment of angst. What could the robot be waiting for? Annie walks up from the direction of the tent and stands beside Peter. PETER Not a robot. Not your business. Annie settles down, lying next to Peter. She picks up her hand, using her fingers to form a circle up to the sky, and begins blinking on eye, then the other. ANNIE I don’t think of your angst as a business. Who would profit from that? PETER Where’s Whit? ANNIE He went to the bathroom. Like, twenty minutes ago. PETER Did you see his artwork? ANNIE I did. PETER Yeah, but did you see his artwork? Annie lets out a short surprised laugh. ANNIE Was that a joke? PETER I’m telling you Annie, I’m not a robot. ANNIE Well, if it’s not to sync some technology to your main system. What’s up with the phone? The constant checking… Peter is quiet. ANNIE Is it for a job? Nothing. ANNIE For a girl? Peter scoffs. PETER Why do you care so much? Annie sighs and lowers her hands. She rolls so that she is facing Peter ANNIE Why would you ask me that like it’s a bad thing? Like my caring is a burden to you? PETER … I don’t know. I really don’t. I want someone to care, to ask. ANNIE Just not me? PETER No. No, I just didn’t think it would be you. I thought David… ANNIE He’s been pretty distracted. PETER He used to always mention… used to always talk about how sad it was that we’re all so distracted by our own stories that we don’t pay attention to everyone else’s. Which I think it’s true. But now… ANNIE But now he’s too distracted by everyone else’s to look into yours? PETER Is that selfish? ANNIE Yes. But I think you’re allowed to be selfish in your own story. A pause. ANNIE So what’s your story? PETER Has David told you about my dad? Annie winces and nods. PETER My savings. The Med school money. That’s my inheritance. ANNIE I’m sorry. PETER I don’t want you to be sorry. I just wanted to explain. Why I’m not frugal with it. (beat) So, when he got sick, it happened pretty suddenly, right? There may have been signs, but no one was looking for them, so there’s no way of knowing now. But I’ve been going to these appointments, just to check, to do it right, just to have someone paying attention so, if there were signs, I would know. ANNIE Sounds very responsible. PETER Yeah. Yeah, but I never thought there would be any, you know? I guess I kind of thought that by taking the precautions, I’d out plan it. (beat) I usually stay up pretty late to study. At night, I’d start seeing this white squirrel in the house. Scurrying around the rooms. But it never made any noise. You never think about how weird that’s going to be. To see something so clearly and closely, but it’s not making any of the sounds that it should be. I thought it was just lack of sleep. ANNIE What is it? Peter blows out a deep breath. PETER Sorry. I haven’t said it aloud yet. It’s called… um… penduncular hallucinosis. So it’s only visual hallucinations. And it typically only happens in the dark. I was telling my doctor about it, and I thought it was going to blow his mind or at least confuse him. But he gave it a name pretty immediately. ANNIE But… is it just the hallucination? That doesn’t seem so bad. PETER Not to you. (beat) Sorry. ANNIE No, you’re not wrong. I mean it’s not a secret. That I don’t prefer reality. But… this isn’t about me. So. The hallucinosis. What does it mean. PETER It could mean nothing. Just too much stress. Or, as is most likely, it’s a symptom of early onset. My doctor, he called it the beautiful part. He said that it’s rare, but the people who experience them become sort of attached to the illusions. They stop caring if they’re real. They’re pretty. I think he wanted to make me feel better, but… but it wouldn’t be called the beautiful part if the rest of the whole wasn’t… ANNIE What? PETER Pain. Pause. Annie looks at Peter. PETER That’s why I keep checking my phone. I’m supposed to get results by Friday. Not s robot. Or if I am, I’m malfunctioning pretty hard. ANNIE Welcome to the world. But do you want to know a secret? You can’t malfunction if you don’t let anyone tell you your function. Peter turns to look at Annie. PETER So what’s your function? ANNIE Who knows? But, in this moment, I believe it is my function to tell you to not miss the beauty because you’re too distracted trying to avoid the pain. Let both happen. PETER You just… let stuff happen to you? ANNIE I let stuff happen with me. I’m not passive. But, when something big is happening, I want to be still. I want to notice it. PETER Then can you… just- just stay still for a moment. Peter leans toward Annie, who does stay still. Inches from her face, he pauses. ANNIE (whispering) what are you doing? PETER (whispering)I’m about to kiss you. ANNIE Yes. I know that. But why did you stop? PETER I’m paying attention. I’m paying attention to this. DAVID HEY. Peter and Annie startle apart, but David is still in the bed of Bertha. A figure, Whit, begins to run, registering David’s yell. David tumbles from the truck and begins to chase the figure, but he is too slow or disoriented. Peter and Annie, after a second of confusion, decide that they should run too. Whit makes it to the Volkswagen, starts it, and peels off just as Peter and Annie make it to where David is standing, panting. As Whit pulls out of the campground, he calls behind him: WHIT SORRY. STARVING ARTIST. Peter, Annie, and a still groggy David watch him peal away. ANNIE What? What did he take? DAVID I- I don’t know. I just woke up to rifling around and.. David’s eyes bulge as he runs over to Bertha. He tears through the back seat before pulling back, his hands gripping his hair. DAVID PRETENTIOUS SON OF A BITCH. ANNIE Was it…? DAVID My laptop. He took my laptop. Most expensive thing in the car. Peter and Annie flank David. Peter puts a hand on his shoulder. PETER What do we do? DAVID We have to skip Chambers. If we drive straight to Yosemite, and straight back, I might have time to get to a library and type up a manuscript by Sunday afternoon. Maybe. But we can’t not see any of the things we came to see. We gotta go. The three of them look off toward the road Whit took. DAVID Bad dude. Peter and Annie nod. EXT- The Road. Afternoon. WEDNESDAY Specific images from the road flash by; maybe… Swallows fly, contracting and expanding like an accordion. The low sun flashes through the trees. The tall grasses covering the median bend to the wind INT- Bertha. Evening David, still in the driver’s seat, looks across the truck at Annie, who is holding a magnifying glass against her window, watching the road through it. DAVID Where’d you get the magnifying glass? ANNIE Whit. He gave it to me to look at his paintings. So I could ‘admire the finer brushstrokes.’ Not exactly a fair trade for a laptop but… David checks to confirm that Peter is asleep in the back. He is. Mouth open. DAVID How do you not believe in God? . Annie drops the magnifying glass and turns to David, smiling. ANNIE I’m sorry? DAVID Like, how do you look at everything out that window and be so lit up by it, but not believe in God? Annie shrugs. ANNIE I don’t have to believe in God to think it’s beautiful. DAVID What part of it is beautiful to you? Annie picks up the glass and holds it up to her eye, looking at sleeping Peter then at David. ANNIE The little parts. DAVID The little parts… ANNIE Not the God parts. DAVID Explain that. Annie, with her magnifying glass, returns to looking out her window. EXT. Road- Cont’d- ANNIE’s P.O.V. Flashes of yellow paint blur by as Annie finds the spot, the grass on the median. Magnified, the details of the grass are distinct, the grains of each blade made clear, but the car is moving too fast, so the image becomes a blur of green movement. ANNIE (V.O.) When I look out this window, I don’t think “Oh what a beautiful and fearful world” I don’t see it in its entirety. Like you do. I see grass. And the grass is tall and brown and when the sun hits it, its gold. And when the wind hits it, it dances. INT. Bertha- Cont’d. ANNIE And I think that’s “beautiful,” but that’s it. David thinks for a moment then shakes his head. DAVID No. No, that’s not it. You cried when we drove through the strip malls, Annie. Beauty wouldn’t be so important to you if that was it… I’m just trying to understand how you see it… how can you look at that median, David points to the median Annie was just focusing on. DAVID those thousands of blades of grass all moving separately, pushed by a force we can’t see— ANNIE Wind. It’s wind. DAVID Yes, but that we know it’s wind doesn’t make it any less mind-boggling to me. David cracks his window. The wind rustles Peter’s hair in the back. DAVID That wind even exists. That it can move the grass, make it dance, only being perceived in the reaction of other things to it. Jesus, that I am capable of understanding it without seeing it. That my mind can fathom the complexity of that and wonder about it. That’s got to be God. ANNIE You call that God. DAVID What do you call it? Annie rolls down her window. She peaks back at sleeping Peter. ANNIE Paying attention. A moment of silence passes as the wind from David and Annie’s windows swirls around the car, rustling the maps, notebooks, and Swiss Roll wrappers. Annie watches Peter. ANNIE Do you think Peter thinks about these things or are these discussions just a product of our pretentious upbringing? DAVID I think Peter thinks about everything. That’s his problem. ANNIE I think that you think that Peter thinks about more than he does. DAVID I think that you think that Peter doesn’t think about the same things you think about, because if he has, that means he’s come to a different conclusion about them than you have, and I think that freaks you out. Peter sighs, his eyes still closed. PETER I think grass is cool. I think you guys are weird. David laughs. DAVID You about ready to drive, man? It’s 7. I have exactly three days to rewrite all those lost profiles. You can drive us into Yosemite. PETER I— ANNIE I got it. I’ll drive. David shrugs. Peter mouths Annie a ‘thank you’ in the rearview. CUT TO: Int. Bertha- Night. The car is silent. Annie drives through the darkness. David has fallen asleep over his open notebook. Peter stares forward. ANNIE You should get your call tomorrow, huh? Peter nods. ANNIE You scared? PETER Are you asking if I’m scared of the diagnoses or the hallucinations? ANNIE Both I guess. PETER You know what, I don’t think I’m afraid of the diagnoses. ANNIE That’s good. Hopeful. Peter shakes his head. PETER No. I’m not afraid of it because I know what it is. It’s not going to be nothing, Annie. This wouldn’t be happening if my brain were working as usual. Think about all the things that have happened in the past couple days. None of this would be happening… I wouldn’t be feeling this way if it were nothing. And the hallucinations. I don’t know if I’m afraid of them. They make me uneasy. I know they’re not real. ANNIE What if you just enjoyed them? PETER Why? ANNIE Why not? You said they were pretty, right? So what if they’re real. You see them. You’re going to see them whether or not they’re real. You’re seeing them now. Why not just enjoy them? Peter takes a moment to stare into the darkness ahead, watching invisible things. His grip on the seat relaxes. Annie looks over at Peter and swerves a little. PETER You wish you could see them, don’t you? Annie nods, staring forward. PETER Do you want me to describe them to you? ANNIE Yes. Peter makes sure David is still sleeping then moves his focus to the road. PETER Tonight, they’re birds. White birds. ANNIE How many? PETER Hundreds. They all move at the same time. Right now, they’re all settled in branches. All of the branches on the side of the road are covered. Peter’s P.O.V- The branches are, indeed, covered inch by inch in perched white birds. In synchronization, they turn their heads as the car approaches to stare. PETER But I know they’re about to move, and whenever I think something’s about to happen, it does. Peter’s P.O.V—The birds seem to rise slowly for a moment, then swoop down, converging in the middle of the road. There are thousands now, and they move like swallows, erupting into fluid movement. PETER They’re swooping, completely obscuring the road. You can’t even tell they’re birds anymore, just a sea of white… Annie’s eyes flutter closed. PETER … and it’s everywhere. The whiteness starts to thin and clear. In the midst of it, the center of the road, there’s the shape of the bear. The birds clear, but the bear remains. PETER Annie? Annie opens her eyes. Too late. Bertha meets the beast in a hard impact. The front of the car CRUNCHES as everything is thrown forward. Bertha settles. The bear, big enough to withstand the impact, runs off into the woods, wounded, but alive. Annie’s airbag slowly deflates, WHEEZING. Annie and Peter stare at each other, startled and breathing fast. ANNIE Oh my God. Was that real? PETER Was that… a grizzly? Slowly, slowly, David’s head emerges between them. Wild eyed, he looks from one to the other. DAVID What. The hell. Have you done. To Bertha? CUT TO: EXT. The Road. Night. Bertha’s mangled skeleton lies on the shoulder of the road. Cars drive by as David inspects Bertha’s doomed structure. Annie and Peter sit in the bed. Peter checks his watch. PETER Sun rises in three hours. ANNIE How far out are we? PETER Two hours. Not including hiking. But I doubt Bertha will make it anyways. ANNIE We’re going to miss all of them. Every last sunrise. I’m so, so sorry. PETER Why are you sorry? This was your trip. I just tagged along. Against your will. Remember? Peter laughs, but Annie shakes her head. ANNIE No. No, this was your trip. I didn’t know it when I planned it or when we left, but this has been yours. (beat) I thought the deer was a part of it. David rounds the corner too quickly. DAVID Thought it was a part of what? Annie glances at Peter, but doesn’t answer. DAVID Seriously? God, this is bullshit. You wrecked my car, Annie! ANNIE I’ll buy you a new one. DAVID Yeah, that’s great. That’s a really lovely thought. But in reality, Annie, you can’t. You can’t because in reality, you don’t have any money. You don’t have any money because you’ve spent your whole life running from fucking reality. PETER Dude, stop. I’ll but you a new car. Let’s just not do this. DAVID No, it wasn’t your fault. Besides, I pay rent with you. I know you don’t have money. PETER I have plenty of money in my savings account. DAVID Your savings account? Your savings account strictly for med. School, which you suddenly don’t want to talk about? David looks at Annie, her head in her hands beside Peter. DAVID At least not with me. David hits the side of Bertha’s corpse with a THUD. Silence. DAVID Well. We better get moving if this trip isn’t going to be a waste. We’ll worry about how to get back after. David starts to unload their belongings from the truck. PETER Dave, I hate to break it to you, but Bertha isn’t actually an angel. She isn’t gonna drive. DAVID No, shit. PETER So what’s your plan. David stops, dropping the duffle to the ground and stares between Annie and Peter. DAVID Seriously? Peter and Annie’s faces remain blank, David laughs in earnest. DAVID Both so smart. Both so clueless. CUT TO: EXT. Road. The wee hours. Three thumbs reach extended against the barely brightening sky. Annie, David, and Peter all walk backwards alongside the highway as car after car passes. ANNIE How much more time? Peter stops to check his watch. Annie and David follow. PETER Two hours and thirty minutes. ANNIE No one’s going to pick us up. DAVID They will. It’s a popular highway. ANNIE There’s three of us. That’s too many. DAVID Would you two like to separate? ANNIE That’s not what I’m saying— DAVID Maybe it’s because Peter won’t take off the murder hat. PETER Why would it be because of Carl’s hat? David takes a step towards Peter. DAVID You said yourself, it looks creepy. PETER Well I’m not taking it off. That would be dishonoring Carl. We love Carl. David takes another step. DAVID Yes, you are. Peter takes a step towards David. He reaches up and fastens the hat to his head more securely. Beat Suddenly, David swats at Peter’s head as Peter ducks and charges into him. They wrestle and speak between grunts. DAVID Take off the hat! PETER No! DAVID What is up with you?! ANNIE People can see you. You are in public and people can see you, children. Neither Peter nor David pays Annie any mind. PETER You care now? Even though I’m not some random on the road with a… exciting story… you care? David finally wrestles the hat out of Peter’s grasp. DAVID What does that… even mean? Peter and David freeze at the sound of a car pulling off behind them. Annie grins at the person leaning out of the driver’s window. CARL Now I know, it’s a nice hat. But there ain’t no use in fightin’. ANNIE Carl! Annie runs to the car. Peter and David exchange a look before following. Carl sits in the driver’s side of an old minivan. Claire, a pretty and reserved looking woman, sits in the passenger sea, giving Peter, David, and Annie a small smile. Two children sit in the back. CARL Where’s your truck? DAVID We—we had an accident. Carl, what the heck are you doing here? PETER Did you… did you come for us? CARL Son, I am very fond of the three of you and very grateful for your help in my time of need, but I did not drive across the country in case your ancient truck failed you. PETER Of course. But then, what are you doing here? Carl smiles at the occupants of his car. CARL We… are on a family vacation. Carl takes Clare’s hand hesitantly. She gives him a small nod. CLARE Damn right. CHILDREN Damn right! Peter, Annie, and David all laugh. David looks as if he might cry. Carl leans toward them. CARL But it would be our pleasure to get y’all wherever it is you need to go. CUT TO: Ext. Yosemite Ntl Park- Night. Half Dome rises above the evergreen trees. The moon begins to fade into the slowly lightening sky. Carl’s minivan speeds past the park sign. The van skids to a halt near a welcome center. Annie and David fly out, but Peter lingers. DAVID Dude, we gotta go. PETER Go figure out closest vantage point and the quickest hike. I need a second. Annie throws him a questioning look, but the siblings call their thanks to Carl and Clare and do as Peter asked. Peter leans into the passenger window. CUT TO Ext. Yosemite Ntl Park- Cont’d Peter joins David and Annie who are frantically looking at maps. DAVID What was that? PETER Just. Making plans. ANNIE Here! We’re right at this trailhead. Glacier Point. It’s not half-dome, but it’s a twenty minute hike and we have… shit. We have 19 minutes. The pause of hesitation amongst the three is over almost immediately as all start running, full-force toward the trailhead. CUT TO: EXT. GLACIER PEAK- EARLY MORNING. FRIDAY The sky is beginning to fill with colors. It is silent. Until, THE RUSTLING and PANTING of Annie, Peter and David coming up the trail, filling the space. Annie emerges first and comes to an abrupt stop at the sight. ANNIE Woah. Peter and David stumble to a stop behind her. They all three stand there and breath for a moment. PETER What do we do? ANNIE I guess… we sit. Because of the panoramic view, no one is sure which way to face. After some awkward, silent maneuvering, they end up sitting an arrangement, back to back to back, so that they’re all facing different directions. They watch. They are silent. Slowly, the sky grows brighter, the colors more intense. DAVID Are you guys nervous? PETER About what? DAVID I don’t think the actual sunrise will be better than this… where it’s almost… where it’s almost. I’m nervous it will be anticlimactic. Annie looks at Peter. ANNIE It will be what it is. Beat. Peter swallows. PETER I have something. Something that could be, that is probably the start of it. I’m supposed to get the call today. To know for sure. But. I think I know, you know? I just told Annie last night. Pause. DAVID Pete. The tip of the sun makes its first, piercing appearance in the direction Peter is facing. PETER There. Look there. Both David and Annie shift so that they’re flanking Peter, facing the same way. PETER Let’s just watch. They do. David puts a hand on Peter’s shoulder and grips it so tightly it must hurt, but Peter’s face stays still. The three watch as the sun rises and explodes. A long pause. PETER Not anticlimactic. Annie looks away, hiding her face behind Peter’s shoulder. PETER What is it? ANNIE I need to look away for a second. So I can look again. So I can shock myself back into it. She waits for a moment, then looks back. David blinks his eyes long and hard, achieving the same effect. Peter stares. CUT TO: EXT. THE PARKING LOT- MORNING More cars file in as Peter, David and Annie stand to themselves. David stares at Peter, who stares mostly at the sky. ANNIE I guess we should figure out a way to get back now… David you still need to get back. PETER We should wait here for a bit. DAVID Why wouldn’t you tell me? A RING A beat. Another RING. Peter digs in his pocket and pulls out his phone. He almost drops it. He walks away as he answers. PETER Dr. Colden… Annie and David are left alone. ANNIE It must be seven in the morning on the east coast. DAVID Is a first thing in the morning call a good thing or a bad thing? ANNIE Is there much chance it’s a good thing. David kicks at the dirt. Hard. DAVID Why wouldn’t he tell me? ANNIE Maybe he thought you were too busy listening to everyone else. DAVID That… That’s not true- Peter approaches, phone hanging in his hand. Annie watches him. David can’t. Beat. PETER Stress. It was brought upon by intense stress. It’s not Parkinson’s. It’s not anything. DAVID Well, that’s good right? PETER How can it not be anything? GRAVEL CRUNCHES as Carl pulls up in a rickety truck. Behind him, Claire drives the family minivan. David, Annie and Peter turn their attention toward Carl as he hops out of the truck, grinning. He tosses the keys to Peter, who, still stunned, lets them fall to the ground. He bends to pick them up as Carl approaches. CARL God bless Californian Pawn Shops. Didn’t ask for any identification or nothin’. DAVID What is happening? CARL Mr. Savings account bought you a car, man. DAVID Peter? Peter doesn’t look David in the eyes as he speeaks PETER My contribution to the trip. Clare leans out of her window. CLAIRE Carl! CARL I gotta go. He hugs both Annie and David, then puts a hand on Peter’s shoulder. CARL Don’t forget what everything is. He heads back to the car, waving as he pulls out with his family. ANNIE You thought you wouldn’t need the money. DAVID It’s fine. We can sell it back when we get home. I can get you your money back. It’s nothing. Peter walks to the car, pauses outside the driver’s side door. PETER No. I don’t want it. He climbs into the car and starts it. Annie and David share a glance, then follow. PETER And now we go back. The new truck GROANS as Peter pulls back onto the road. CUT TO: INT. PETER AND DAVID’s HOUSE- EVENING Six Months Later Peter, slightly physically changed (maybe he’s growing patchy facial hair), is sitting at his window, looking out at the summer sun, sinking below the trees. The light glints off a car as it approaches, slows in front of the driveway, honks. Peter smiles and heads out the door. As he approaches the car, Annie leans across to the passenger window. ANNIE You have something growing on your face! Peter rolls his eyes and sits in the passenger seat. ANNIE No med school is going to trust you with a scalpel if you can’t prove you can operate a razor. PETER I guess I’ll worry about that when and if I decide to apply. ANNIE In the meantime? Peter shrugs. PETER I’m going to try a beard. ANNIE You couldn’t even shave for David’s reading? I think this supposed to be nice. PETER Well if I knew anything about it, maybe I would have known to shave. ANNIE His giving a reading of his manuscript that’s getting published. You shave for that. PETER Yeah. His manuscript that he still hasn’t let me read? ANNIE Still a little bitter there? PETER That I’m most likely a whiney pawn in his great tale of other people? Not at all. ANNIE You want to talk about it? Peter looks at her and takes a deep breath PETER Not now. Hi. You look good. ANNIE So do you. Annie starts the car and pulls onto the street. ANNIE Aside from the prepubescent beard. EXT. ROAD- CONT’D The car pulls down the road, reminiscent of David and Peter’s venture to Horizons. Only the trees and the car have changed. Annie’s arm falls out one window and Peter’s hand plays in the wind out the other. The evening sun shines off the rear window. CUT TO: EXT. PARKING LOT- CONT’D Peter and Annie park beside the David’s Pawn Shop truck. Peter pats it as he walks by. ANNIE You miss it? PETER Miss what exactly? ANNIE Drifting. PETER I haven’t stopped drifting, Annie. FADE IN: INT. READING ROOM- EVENING Peter and Annie room, filled with bookcases, filled with books. There are chairs in rows facing a podium that stands in front of a large window. Nicely dressed people holding glasses of wine fill the open space. An elderly, academic man stands at the podium. He CLINKS his glass, and attention turns to him. He lowers a hand. The flock moves to sit in the chairs lines up facing the podium. Annie and Peter follow. Once everyone settles into their seats, David is visible standing slightly behind the academic man, nervously tapping the cover of a book he grips in his hands. ACADEMIC MAN Welcome, all. Thank you for coming. I hope that you’ve enjoyed your mingling and, of course, your complimentary refreshments. A soft chuckle from the crowd. PETER (whispering to Annie) we should have gotten here earlier. ACADEMIC MAN Every year, our university’s creative writing program churns out talented and capable young writers. However, it is not every year than one of them turns their final into a book deal a semester before graduation. Inspired by a real life experience on the road, avoiding his academic responsibilities, Another condescending chuckle. ACADEMIC MAN David Herald has become one of our most… surprising… At this, David laughs a little to himself. ACADEMIC MAN Rising authors. It is my pleasure to invite him up to read us a passage from his soon to be published novel, The Beautiful Part. Annie shoots her eyes to Peter, who has furrowed his brow and leaned forward in his seat. David approaches the podium. He wipes his hands on his not-quite-nice-enough pants. DAVID I’ve never done anything like this before. Obviously. So. So I’m just gonna start, you know, at the beginning. Prologue… Peter is at the edge of his seat. Annie keeps shifting her attention between the two of them. David reads from his book. DAVID We stood on top of the world. At least, we stood on top of our world. At least, we found a vantage point from which, we could make some sense of the world that was trying so damn hard to make sense of us. In my brief travels across the United States’ roads to see three of its sunrises at the request of my sister who demands as much from life as she does from me… Both David and Annie smile at this. David begins to gain confidence. DAVID I learned about family, about history, about the vast differences and similarities amongst people, and that it is nearly impossible to pick up a hitchhiker without seeming like a murderer. But not one of these startling things taught me more about my world than what I learned about the friend I traveled with—what we learned when we discovered that the beautiful part was not in the destination or even in the journey, but in the noticing. The noticing of all of it. The noticing of one another. This is not a story about sunrises or new horizons. It is not even necessarily a story about the road. It is the story of a man who chased the sun, and didn’t blink. David is lit by the fading light behind him. Peter watches David, his eyes filling with light and feeling. Annie reaches to grab Peter’s hand. David continues to read as the last bit of sunlight falls from sight. FADE OUT. END