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*** LUNCH AREA - 1:45 PM *** |
|
| Polly Page: | Well, how did it look from where you were? |
| Vicky chews on her lunch thoughtfully. | |
| Vicky Hagen: | Oh it was great, really great. Seeing you down there as they cut you out of the car. I'm surprised you weren't hurt the way they lugged the top off that thing. |
| Polly Page: | Nah, it was all specially worked out. It was really cool. |
| Vicky Hagen: | Yeah, it's not everyone who gets to star in a big thing like that. You'll have to give your Uncle Charlie a big kiss next time you see him. Whoops, I forgot, that was the plan already. |
| Polly rolls her eyes. | |
| Polly Page: | Oh, shut up Vicky. |
| Vicky Hagen: | Yeah, I guess I just don't like the idea of you two snogging. I find it a little bit icky. |
| Vicky is very jealous of Polly's involvement in the reconstruction and it shows. Polly shrugs. | |
| Polly Page: | It's not that bad. He's really nice about it and all. |
| Vicky Hagen: | Yeah, just like your stepdad was the first time he came into your room at night? I've had you crying your eyes out with me before, now you almost seem to enjoy it! A bit of handy exercise, is that what it is? |
| Polly Page: | It's not like that! Charlie's better than Greg. Plus he buys me presents! |
| Vicky sneers. | |
| Vicky Hagen: | So he's like Santa Claus then? Shame he doesn't only creep into your house once a year like Santa does, |
| Polly Page: | Oh, what would you know! |
| Polly throws her apple core into the nearby bin. Vicky hesitates. | |
| Vicky Hagen: | I know. Maybe not about all the sexual stuff... But I know, believe me. |
| Vicky looks down at the ground and is silent. Polly drops her voice to a whisper. | |
| Polly Page: | What'd he do this time? |
| Vicky sighs. | |
| Vicky Hagen: | Nothing much, by his standards. |
| Polly Page: | What then? |
| Vicky rolls up her shirt sleeve and hold out her bruised arm. | |
| Vicky Hagen: | Just a close encounter with a belt buckle. |
| Vicky returns her gaze to the floor. | |
| Polly Page: | Did you tell your Mum? |
| Vicky shakes her head. | |
| Vicky Hagen: | She'd never believe me. And even if she did I doubt whether she'd understand, the amount that she drinks. |
| Polly Page: | But surely she wouldn't want him beating on you. And if he's getting worse... |
| Vicky Hagen: | Look, forget I said anything, it's not your problem. I don't know why I'm bothering you with this. |
| Polly Page: | It's all right, I've whinged to you about stuff. |
| Vicky takes a deep breath, | |
| Vicky Hagen: | Yeah, but the stuff that happens to me isn't anywhere near as bad as the stuff that you have to put up with. I'm strong, I don't need people listening to my problems. |
| Polly Page: | Course it is. It's worse. And I only wanna help. |
| Vicky Hagen: | I know that Poll, but really I'm okay. I don't need your sympathy. |
| Vicky tries to smile but fails. | |
| Polly Page: | Oh, will you stop being such a cow about it! Forget it then! |
| Vicky Hagen: | Fine. You shouldn't have asked me if you didn't want to know. |
| Polly looks slyly at Vicky. | |
| Polly Page: | You're just jealous! |
| Vicky Hagen: | Jealous? Of you? Give me a break! |
| Vicky is getting angry. | |
| Polly Page: | Jealous because I got to be in the reconstruction! |
| Vicky Hagen: | I'm not jealous of you, Polly Page! I don't give a damn about your stupid reconstruction and I certainly wouldn't want to be involved with it if I have to drop my pants for some sick weirdo to do so! |
| Vicky hesitates, realising that she's gone too far. Polly looks away, hurt. | |
| Vicky Hagen: | Polly, I'm sorry, I didn't mean... |
| Vicky stops, unsure of what to say. Polly rests her chin in her hands. | |
| Polly Page: | Doesn't matter. |
| Vicky sighs. | |
| Vicky Hagen: | I'm really sorry, Poll. I didn't mean it to come out like that. Can we forget about it and talk about something else? Like what we're planning to do on the sleepover? |
| Polly shrugs, nodding slowly. | |
| Polly Page: | Whatever. |
| Vicky smiles with relief. | |
| Vicky Hagen: | So what are we going to do on our girly night of fun and frolics? |
| Polly chuckles. | |
| Polly Page: | I dunno! I still can't believe Greg's actually letting me go! |
| Vicky Hagen: | Same. My Dad doesn't care enough to stop me but it will be great fun. We can watch videos that Arnie stars in! He's such a hunk. |
| Polly cringes. | |
| Polly Page: | If you say so. |
| Vicky Hagen: | And we can eat popcorn and stay up all night and play dress-ups and imagine what it'd be like if we were grown up and married! |
| Vicky sighs happily. Polly looks bored. | |
| Polly Page: | Sometimes you are such a girl! |
| Vicky smiles. | |
| Vicky Hagen: | Well as far as I'm concerned that's a compliment. Especially from a tomboy like you! |
| Polly looks slightly exasperated. | |
| Polly Page: | Well then I choose to take that as a compliment too! |
| Vicky sticks her tongue out at Polly and Polly does likewise. The two girls burst into laughter and hug each other, still friends. | |
|
*** MATTHEWS RESIDENCE - 2:20 PM *** |
|
| Greg is lounging back in his chair sipping a cup of coffee. | |
| Greg Matthews: | So what have you got planned for the next couple of weeks my sweet little sugarcane? Is that Australian trip a certainty? |
| Anne sips her peppermint tea. | |
| Anne Matthews: | I'm not sure yet. It all depends when Justina finishes her maternity leave. I'll probably get to go though, the money'd be fantastic. |
| Greg finishes his coffee and stares at his wife. Anne shakes her head and stands, as the phone rings. | |
| Anne Matthews: | I'll get it. |
| Greg has half-risen to his feet. | |
| Greg Matthews: | You sure? |
| Anne paces into the kitchen and picks up the phone. She speaks quickly, her voice rising in pitch. Hanging up she storms back into the living room glaring at her husband. | |
| Anne Matthews: | Right. I think you'd better start talking! Just what has been going on? |
| Greg looks slightly afraid by the tone in his wife's voice. | |
| Greg Matthews: | How do you mean sweetheart? |
| Anne Matthews: | I mean that phone call! Just because I'm not home all the time doesn't mean you get to keep me out of the picture! |
| Anne reaches for her jacket, slipping it on. | |
| Greg Matthews: | What was the phone call? What did they say? |
| Greg is getting worried. Anne opens the front door and heads for the car. | |
| Anne Matthews: | It was the principal. Ian's gone and attacked some girl. |
| Greg is visibly relieved. | |
| Greg Matthews: | Oh I see. Just give me a minute and I'll come with you. |
| Anne Matthews: | You bloody bet you will! This apparently isn't the first time that he's been a problem. |
| Greg sighs. | |
| Greg Matthews: | He's a kid, Anne. Kids get into sticky situations sometimes. |
| Anne Matthews: | So why didn't you tell me! Mr Watts said that he'd yelled at a teacher a few months back. What was all that about? |
| Greg Matthews: | He was just talking back to a teacher. I'm used to it, it's part of life. The teacher was a bit too sensitive if you ask me. |
| Greg takes his coat and struggles into it. | |
| Anne Matthews: | He's still overstepped his mark and this takes the cake. Wait 'til I get my hands on him! |
| Greg Matthews: | Just be gentle, darling. He's only a kid. |
| Anne Matthews: | He'll wish he wasn't even born! |
| Greg sighs and leaves the house. They drive to school. | |
|
*** CHEETHAM ROAD PRIMARY - HEADMASTER'S OFFICE - 3:00 PM *** |
|
| Greg and Anne are sitting opposite the headmaster at his desk. They have serious expressions on their faces and he is talking to them in a low voice. | |
| Greg Matthews: | So what exactly happened, Mr Watts? |
| Mr Watts: | Well, as I explained to your wife, this isn't the first incident we've had. Ian's behaviour has become decidedly worse over the past few months and I felt that given the seriousness of today's outburst I should have a chat with you both. I was informed near the end of the lunch hour that Ian had punched another student. A younger student. It was only after talking with your son and observing his total lack of remorse that I thought it necessary to take this further. |
| Greg Matthews: | What exactly did he say? |
| The Principal shakes his head in disgust. | |
| Mr Watts: | He stated that 'the silly girl took my game and I weren't having that'. |
| Greg Matthews: | Well had she taken it? |
| Mr Watts: | She's seven years old. And she's just a very inquisitive child. Deborah probably just wanted to see it. I would have expected better from Ian. |
| Greg isn't letting up. | |
| Greg Matthews: | But if she took the game then surely it's her fault? You can't expect Ian to stand around while other children steal his belongings! |
| The Principal raises an eyebrow. | |
| Mr Watts: | Whether she was in the wrong or not, it is no excuse. |
| Greg Matthews: | Well how is the little girl? Is she all right? |
| Mr Watts: | She was quite shaken up, understandably. She has a nasty bruise on her cheek and the school nurse was a little concerned about possible eye damage but that has been eliminated. |
| Greg Matthews: | Well if she's okay then what's the big deal? |
| Greg folds his arms. Anne turns to her husband, her arms still folded tightly. | |
| Anne Matthews: | Greg! Ian's hit some girl and you don't seem to care a toss! |
| Greg Matthews: | Well it doesn't sound too bad. I mean, if she took his game then she probably deserved it. |
| Anne Matthews: | I don't believe I'm hearing this! I don't care what she did or didn't do, I didn't raise my son to be a schoolyard bully! |
| Greg lapses into silence as Anne fixes the headmaster with a steely glare. | |
| Mr Watts: | Well, I thought, given as the girl's parents don't wish to take this further, a simple apology from your son would be in order. |
| The Principal uses the intercom on his desk to call for the two children to be brought into the room. Ian walks into the room looking slightly shamefaced. | |
| Ian Page: | Hello Mummy. |
| Anne Matthews: | Don't 'Hello Mummy' me you little terror. |
| Ian Page: | What's the matter? Why am I in here? Why is she in here? |
| Debbie paces into the room behind Ian, the ice-pack still on her cheek. She looks at the strange faces. | |
| Ian Page: | She's a stupid girl, why does she have to be in here? |
| Anne Matthews: | Because you have to apologise for hitting her! Why would you do a thing like that anyway? It's not like you, Ian. |
| Ian shrugs. | |
| Ian Page: | She's a stupid girl and she took my game. I hate her so I hit her. What's the big deal? |
| Anne shakes her head with a sigh. | |
| Anne Matthews: | Ian, you know better than to hit anyone! |
| Ian Page: | You hit me sometimes! |
| Ian looks murderously at his mother. | |
| Anne Matthews: | Don't be silly, that's not the same thing! Now I want you to apologise to Debbie. |
| Ian shakes his head adamantly. | |
| Ian Page: | No way! She deserved it! |
| Ian sticks his tongue out at the little girl. Debbie puts her hand on her hip and turns to Ian. | |
| Debbie Keane: | See! You're just a big bully Ian Page! |
| Ian looks daggers at Debbie and walks towards her. Before anyone can stop him, he yanks down hard on one of her pigtails. | |
| Ian Page: | Stupid ugly girl! You're as ugly as mud! |
| Debbie squeals, looking helplessly up at the principal. | |
| Debbie Keane: | See! See what he did! |
| Anne Matthews: | Ian William Page! Get yourself over here young man! |
| Ian lets go of Debbie's pigtail and walks over to his mother with his head bowed. Anne catches her breath long enough to smack him around the legs. | |
| Anne Matthews: | That's what you meant by me hitting you, I take it? |
| Ian cries out. | |
| Ian Page: | That hurt Mummy! That stung, that hurt, that was mean! |
| Anne Matthews: | Now apologise. |
| Ian turns to face Debbie with a look of pain on his face. | |
| Ian Page: | I'm sorry that you're such a stupid cow. |
| Debbie frowns, her hand still on her hip. | |
| Debbie Keane: | You take that back! |
| Ian Page: | No, I'm really sorry that you're such an ugly stupid thieving cow! I really am! |
| Anne Matthews: | Ian! Apologise nicely. |
| Ian grumpily mutters under his breath. | |
| Ian Page: | I'm sorry for hitting you. |
| Debbie shrugs. | |
| Debbie Keane: | That's okay. I'm sorry for taking you game without asking. |
| Ian Page: | You can borrow it some time maybe. If you ask me first. |
| Ian grudgingly turns away from Debbie. | |
| Anne Matthews: | That's better. But you'll get extra chores this week. And I certainly haven't forgotten about this. |
| Ian Page: | Yes Mummy. Can we go now? I'm tired. |
| Anne Matthews: | I'll bet you are. We'll take you home but you're spending the rest of the evening and every night this week after school in your room. Understand? |
| Ian Page: | What about her? Will she get punished for taking my game? |
| Ian nods in Debbie's direction. | |
| Anne Matthews: | This isn't about Debbie, Ian. |
| Anne looks back up at the principal as Debbie secretively smirks at Ian. | |
| Anne Matthews: | Is that all? |
| The Principal clears his throat, getting to his feet. | |
| Mr Watts: | I think so. Thank you for handling that, Mrs Matthews. |
| Anne Matthews: | Not a problem. We'll see ourselves out. Come along Ian. |
| Anne stands and drags the little boy to the door. Greg and Anne leave the office, escorting a sullen looking Ian back home. | |