Amy & Isabelle Page #3

It's cute. It's as cute as it can be.

I'm just curious, that's all.

I'm mean, with a head

of hair like yours...

It's bewildering how you can harm

a child wlthout ever knowing.

Thinking all the while,

you're being careful, conscientious.

Why would Debbie Kay answer the

door if her mother told her not to?

Well, this is the thing. I told

you never to answer the door.

But say you're home alone

and Avery Clark stops by or...

someone alike him...

and says I've been in an accident.

You'd go with him, wouldn't you?

- I suppose.

- Amy!

Hi.

Paul's gonna leave unless I run

out and give him the stupid fries.

Stacy, this is my mother.

- Hi.

- Hi, Stacy.

I gotta baby-sit my brothers tonight.

They're cockroaches, both of them.

Why don't you come over

and help me torture them?

- I can't.

- That 's okay. Call me later.

- Bye.

- Bye.

Surely there must be other girls

that you can be friends with.

Everybody is just so weird.

To make friends you've gotta be

friendly, my father used to say.

God...

- Hello.

- Hello, Barbara, how are you?

I'm just fine, thanks.

I'm sorry. Your name is?

Amy.

And you're in school

with my son, Flip?

He's in my math class.

And what you two ladies have

planned for this evening?

Odds and ends, you know.

- Well, have a pleasant evening.

- Thank you.

She's pretty.

If one cares for a false made-up

look, one may find her pretty.

I just mean she could be pretty

if she didn't wear all that make-up.

She's probably having

a dinner party tonight.

No doubt,

Anne and Avery will be there.

They'll laugh about how Isabelle

decorated the church in hollies.

Mom? You're pretty too.

It was at 5 o'clock

that her mother...

I couldn't stop imagining a dinner

party at Barbara Rawley's house.

Wine goblets shimmering

in candle light.

At least we're together and safe.

In the heart, I thought my name

might be coming up.

"I saw Isabelle Goodrow today.

She's so odd, I think."

...by acknowledging the child

belongs to God, not to us.

So many private humiliations...

including how often Avery Clark

was on my mind.

Where's Avery?

I don't know.

He probably stayed too late at

Barbara Rawler's dinner party.

Couldn't bother to get

out of bed this morning.

I hate my life.

I hate everything.

Why? Why do you hate your life?

You wear make-up, you're pretty.

Your boyfriend has an apartment.

Don't make me barf.

I already did that this morning.

You puked?

I wanted to stay home,

but my mother sent me anyway.

- You're kidding.

- No, she's a lunatic.

Well...

at least your mother doesn't cut

your sandwich in stupid triangles.

Everyone ends up like their mother,

then what's the rat's-ass point?

Rate this script:0.0 / 0 votes