Coraline Page #2

CORALINE (CONT'D)

(freaked out)

AHHHHH!

He REVS his motor, pops a wheelie, then SWOOPS DOWN the

bluff towards her. She HOLLERS IN FEAR, then tries to

WHACK HIM with her forked stick.

CORALINE (CONT'D)

GET AWAY FROM ME-

He SNATCHES it from her as he passes, KNOCKING HER to the

ground. He SIDE-SKIDS his bike, hops off and JUMPS UP

onto the stump. Looking TEN FEET TALL from the ground,

THUNDER AND LIGHTNING at a peak, the Spy turns his THREEEYED

TURRET LENS and studies her like a predatory alien.

And then, the thunder and lightning just FADE OUT and

this psycho-killer, three-eyed spy pulls off his mask and

Coraline GASPS -- he’s just a short kid in a costume.

Shoulders hunched, neck bent, the Spy - real name WYBIE

LOVAT - aged 12 - examines Coraline's forked stick, aims

it around.

WYBIE:

(oblivious)

Hoo! Let me guess, you’re from Texas or

Utah; someplace dried out and barren,

right? I heard about water-witching

before but it doesn’t make sense; I mean,

it’s just an ordinary branch.

Coraline, SNATCHES it from his GLOVED HANDS.

CORALINE:

(enraged)

IT’S A DOWSING ROD!

Coraline smacks Wybie.

WYBIE:

Ow!

CORALINE:

And I DON’T LIKE BEING STALKED, not by

PSYCHO-NERDS OR THEIR CATS!

He crouches, nervous, to scratch the cat behind his ears.

WYBIE:

He’s not really my cat; he’s kinda feral

– you know, wild? Of course, I do feed

him every night and sometimes he’ll come

in my window ‘n bring me little dead

things.

The cat PURRS like a diesel.

CORALINE:

(tough)

Look, I’m from Pontiac.

WYBIE:

Huh?

CORALINE:

MICHIGAN? And if I’m a “water witch”,

then--

(points stick, stomps foot)

--where’s the secret WELL?

WYBIE:

You stomp too hard and you’ll fall in it!

Coraline reacts, hops out of the springy circle. The boy

scrapes at the ground, revealing a CIRCULAR COVERING

made of WOODEN PLANKS. He wedges a fallen branch under

one side, and, using a rock for the fulcrum, pries up the

covering.

WYBIE (CONT'D)

See? Supposed to be so deep if you fell

to the bottom and looked up, you’d see a

sky full of stars in the middle of the

day.

CORALINE:

(softens)

Huh.

Her frown RELAXES and the black cat tilts his head,

noticing her change in tone. He steps off the branch, and

the well cover thumps in place.

WYBIE:

Surprised she let you move in...

Jerks his head toward the pink house in distance.

WYBIE (CONT'D)

... my Gramma. She owns the “Pink Palace”

(indicates house in distance)

Won’t rent to people with kids.

CORALINE:

What do you mean?

WYBIE:

(suddenly worried)

Uh... I’m not supposed to talk about it.

Changing the subject, he lifts a gloved hand to shake.

WYBIE (CONT'D)

I’m Wybie, Wybie Lovat.

CORALINE:

(skeptical)

Wybie?

WYBIE:

Short for Wyborne. Not my idea, of

course. What’d you get saddled with?

CORALINE:

I wasn’t saddled with anything. It’s

Coraline.

WYBIE:

Caroline what?

CORALINE:

Coraline. Coraline Jones.

WYBIE:

(confused, not hearing it)

Hmmm... It’s not real scientific, but I

heard an ordinary name, like Caroline --

Her face goes as DARK as the rain clouds above.

WYBIE (CONT'D)

-- can lead people to have ordinary

expectations about a person-

WYBIE'S GRANDMOTHER (O.C.)

(calling from afar)

Wyborne!

CORALINE:

I think I heard someone calling you,

Wyborne.

WYBIE:

What? I didn’t hear anything-

CORALINE:

Oh, I definitely heard someone, Why-wereyou-

born.

A distant dinner bell clangs.

WYBIE'S GRANDMOTHER (O.C.)

Wyborne!

WYBIE:

(under his breath, nervous)

Grandma!

He holds up his hands in surrender, nodding with eyes

closed, forcing some laughs.

WYBIE (CONT’D)

Heh. Well, great to meet a Michigan

water witch.

He picks up his bike, wheels it around, then holds up his

gloved hands.

WYBIE (CONT'D)

But I’d wear gloves next time.

CORALINE:

(skeptical)

Why?

He points to her dowsing rod, nods.

WYBIE (CONT'D)

‘Cause that dowsing rod of yours? Uh,

it’s poison oak.

CORALINE:

Ehh!!

Coraline drops the stick as he zooms away and wipes her

hands on her clothes.

The cat merows at her, shaking his head with a pitying

look, then trots away after Wybie. She STICKS OUT HER

TONGUE at him.

She looks down at the COVERING to the well. Coraline

finds a PEBBLE and drops it through A SMALL KNOT-HOLE.

Ear at the knot-hole, she counts until there’s a watery

“plop” far below. FAT RAINDROPS start to fall around her.

ROTATE DISSOLVE TO:

INT. KITCHEN - NEXT MORNING

It’s POURING out. Coraline looks out a window at the DEADLOOKING

GARDEN, and places PACKETS OF SEEDS - pumpkins,

squash, snap dragons, bleeding hearts - on the sill.

She's developed a REDDISH RASH -poison oak - on one

hand.

The main floor kitchen, like most things in the Pink

Palace, is barely maintained, and looks worn and faded.

Coraline's MOTHER, MEL JONES, 40, bangs away at her

laptop on the table, MOVING BOXES stacked nearby. She's

plain-looking and tired and wears a NECK-BRACE.

CORALINE:

I almost fell down a well yesterday, Mom.

MEL:

(not listening)

Uh huh.

CORALINE:

I would have died.

MEL:

(continues typing)

That’s nice.

Coraline scratches the rash on her hand, changes subject.

CORALINE:

Hmmm. So can I go out? I think it’s

perfect weather for gardening.

MEL:

No, Coraline. Rain makes mud. Mud makes a

mess.

Coraline turns to her.

CORALINE:

But Mom, I want stuff growing when my

friends come to visit. Isn’t that why we

moved here?

MEL:

Something like that. But then we had the

accident.

CORALINE:

Wasn’t my fault you hit that truck.

MEL:

I never said it was.

CORALINE:

(mutters)

I can’t believe it -- you and Dad get

paid to write about plants and you hate

dirt.

Mel stops typing, loses her patience.

MEL:

Coraline, I don’t have time for you right

now. And you still have unpacking to do.

Lots of unpacking.

CORALINE:

That sounds exciting.

Mel remembers something.

Mel (CONT'D)

Oh - some kid left this on the front

porch.

Coraline walks over and is handed a NEWSPAPER-WRAPPED

PACKAGE. Attached note reads:

WYBIE (V.O.)

Hey Jonesy, look what I found in Gramma’s

trunk. Look familiar? Wybie.

She rips open the package and finds the BUTTON-EYED, BLUEHAIRED,

YELLOW RAINCOAT-WEARING DOLL from the head

credits -it’s a litte Coraline!

CORALINE:

(to herself)

Huh... a little me? That’s weird.

She crumples the note, both annoyed and charmed.

MEL:

What’s his name, anyway?

CORALINE:

Wybie. And I’m way too old for dolls.

But Coraline takes it with her and leaves the room.

INT. STUDY - SAME

CHARLIE Jones, 40, goose-necked and gangly with thinning

dark hair, HUNT-AND-PECKS at his ancient computer,

surrounded by boxes of GARDENING MAGAZINES and empty

coffee cups. Coraline, with doll, opens the SQUEAKY DOOR.

He doesn’t turn.

Rate this script:3.6 / 9 votes