Wadjda Page #2

7 INT. LIVING ROOM - DAY 7

Wajda grabs her backpack, stopping by the mirror. She looks

at herself and touches her hair, then puts on her abbayah.

5.

8 EXT. THE NEIGHBORHOOD STREETS - DAY 8

Concrete houses line the street. All the windows are covered

in aluminum. A typical middle class neighborhood in Riyadh,

Saudi Arabia.

Groups of girls walk to school, completely covered in

abbayahs and veils, distinguishable only by their different

backpacks. Taxis and minivans pass by full of covered women

in black.

Wajda exits her gate and walks towards school. Suddenly a

rock flies by her feet and knocks a soda can from its place.

She looks up to see her FATHER (35), smiling and tossing

another rock up in the air, playfully.

Dark and handsome with short soft black hair and a well

groomed mustache, he wears a worn-out blue oil-man’s uniform.

FATHER:

Watch this!

He flings the rock towards another can just past her on the

wall. She ducks but looks over to see the can fly from its

place. Wajda searches and picks up another rock.

WAJDA:

Oh yeah, check this out!

Full of bravado, she flings the rock at a milk carton near

his feet but it falls short and BOUNCES off target.

FATHER:

Ha! Keep practicing. You're getting

there!

WAJDA:

Look who's back! Where have you

been?

She smiles, runs and gives him a big hug.

FATHER:

Oof. Look at this.

He pulls out a shiny black rock from his pocket.

FATHER (CONT’D)

It's volcanic, from the Empty

Quarter. It has a great velocity.

It'll help your aim. Now get going.

She takes it, beaming. He taps her on her head and she runs

off to school.

6.

WAJDA:

We left the door unlocked.

Mom's been waiting for you all

week!

The father’s eyes flicker at the mention of the mother. He

passes his hand over his untidy black hair feeling uneasy.

9 EXT. FRONT OF THE CONVENIENCE STORE - DAY 9

ABDULLAH, (11), a skinny, bright-eyed boy, stands near the

entryway, setting up a billboard. He peeks inside at Wajda as

she enters and heads for the candy bars, picking out

chocolate. She sees him and smiles. Abdullah immediately

looks away.

He busies himself with the billboard, attaching a large

election poster of an overweight, mustached man on a chair

that looks like a throne. The poster reads: "Vote for me for

Municipal Council. Your glorious representation."

Abdullah's bicycle stands next to the board with his books

clamped onto a rack on the back.

Out of the corner of his eye he watches Wajda approach,

munching on a breakfast sandwich. He quickly brushes his hair

into place and acts busy and important.

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