Fast Times at Ridgemont High Page #18

SPICOLI (CONT'D)

Mr... Mr. Hand.

MR. HAND

That's right, Jeff. Mind if I come

in?

Spicoli can only nod.

MR. HAND (CONT'D)

(calling downstairs)

Thank you, Mr. and Mrs. Spicoli.

Hand walks into Spicoli's room, takes off his suit

jacket and lays it on the chair back. He stops a

moment and catches the stare of Miss January

Penthouse on the wall, then turns to Spicoli.

MR. HAND (CONT'D)

Were you going somewhere tonight,

Jeff?

SPICOLI:

Yeah. The Graduation Dance Mr.

Hand. It's the last school event of

the year.

MR. HAND

I'm afraid we've got some things to

discuss here, Jeff.

SPICOLI:

Did I do something wrong, Mr. Hand?

Hand removes several copies of Oui Magazine from

another chair and sits down. He sets his briefcase

on Spicoli's dresser, next to a bag of pot, and

opens it up for easy access.

MR. HAND

Do you want to sit there, Jeff?

SPICOLI:

I don't know. I guess so.

MR. HAND

Fine. You sit right here on your

bed. I'll use the chair here.

(pause)

As I explained to your parents just

a moment ago, and to you many times

since the very beginning of the

school year -- I don't like to

spend my time waiting for late

students, or detention cases. I'd

rather be preparing the lesson.

Mr. Hand takes a sheet from his briefcase and looks

at it.

MR. HAND (CONT'D)

According to my calculations, Mr.

Spicoli, you wasted a total of

eight hours of my time this year.

And rest assured that is a kind

estimate.

He returns the sheet to his case and looks into

Spicoli's weed-ravaged eyes.

MR. HAND (CONT'D)

Now, Mr. Spicoli, comes a rare

moment for me. Now I have the

unique pleasure of squaring our

account. Tonight, you and I are

going to talk in great detail about

the Davis Agreement, all the

associated treaties, and the

American Revolution in particular.

Now if you can just turn to Chapter

47 of Lord of Truth And Liberty.

SPICOLI:

Hey, it's in my locker, Mr. Hand.

MR. HAND

Well, then, I'm glad I remembered

to bring an extra copy just for

you.

Hand reaches in his case and produces the book. He

hands it to Spicoli.

DISSOLVE:

TO:

INT. SPICOLI'S ROOM - HOURS LATER

Wearily, Spicoli is trying to grasp the material.

SPICOLI:

... so, like, when Jefferson went

before the people what he was

saying was 'Hey, we left this place

in England because it was bogus,

and if we don't come up with some

cool rules ourself, we'll be bogus,

too!' Right?

ANGLE ON MR. HAND

who nods his head.

MR. HAND

Very close, Jeff.

Hand reaches over and gets his case.

MR. HAND (CONT'D)

I think I've made my point with you

tonight.

SPICOLI:

Hey, Mr. Hand, can I ask you a

question?

MR. HAND

What's that?

SPICOLI:

Do you have a guy like me every

year? A guy to... I don't know,

make a show of. Teach other kids

lessons and stuff?

MR. HAND

Well, you'll find out next year.

SPICOLI:

(smiling)

No way, mon. When I graduate U.S.

history I ain't even coming over to

your side of the building.

MR. HAND

If you graduate.

SPICOLI:

(panicked)

You're gonna flunk me?!

Mr. Hand pauses a moment, then breaks into the

nearest approximation of a grin we have seen all

year. It isn't much, but it's noticeable. His lips

crinkle at the ends.

MR. HAND

Don't worry, Spicoli. You'll

probably squeak by.

SPICOLI:

All right! Oh, yeah!

Mr. Hand has now gathered all his material, and he

stands to approach Spicoli's door. Jeff jumps up,

extends his hand.

SPICOLI (CONT'D)

Aloha, Mr. Hand!

MR. HAND

Aloha, Spicoli.

Mr. Hand exits the room, and descends the staircase

of the Spicoli household. Spicoli kicks the door

shut, grins, and continues struggling with his tie.

INT. RIDGEMONT GYMNASIUM - NIGHT

Tight angle on the emotion-filled face of the lead

singer in a cheesy high school band called the T

Birds. He is bathed in a blue light, singing the

last verse of The Eagles' 'Take It To The Limit'.

We pull back to reveal a large, clumsy banner

reading:
LAST DANCE. Students are pouring into the

gym for this event. Many have brought their annual

yearbooks. On stage, the lead singer snaps his

fingers and the band goes into Nick Lowe's 'Heart

of the City'. Some students start to dance.

Every one of our characters is either here, or

about to arrive. From Charles Jefferson to Spicoli

to Mr. Hand. For once, all classes are partying

together. But, just as in the beginning of the year

on lunch court, the kids are still cordoned off

into their distinctive cliques.

ANGLE ON MORE STUDENTS ARRIVING

at the Last Dance. They see Mr. Hand signing

annuals by the door. They all say the same thing as

they pass, "Aloha, Mr. Hand". He nods in return.

ANGLE ON STACY:

surveying the growing mob of annual-crazed

students. From behind her comes Linda Barrett in a

low-cut black dress.

STACY:

Where's Doug?

LINDA:

He's not coming.

STACY:

Not coming? What happened?

LINDA:

He says he's got to stay in

Chicago.

(sighs)

He says I should visit him

sometimes.

STACY:

Sometime?

LINDA:

Yeah, like maybe never.

STACY:

But what are you going to do?

LINDA:

Well I might go to Dartmouth.

STACY:

Dartmouth?!

LINDA:

I didn't tell anyone I applied

cause I never thought I'd make it.

STACY:

I can't believe it! But what about

Doug?

LINDA (STOIC)

There's a world of guys out there.

I just wish I didn't have to date

any of them.

STACY:

Hey -- Doug Stallworth? It's his

loss.

ANGLE ON MIKE DAMONE

in another part of the dance, by the Junior class

sponsored food counter. Damone is standing, talking

to several girls, gesturing and being Damone, Mr.

Attitude.

DAMONE:

Sign my annual, honey.

The girls look at each other, laugh. They walk

away.

ANGLE ON THE RAT

standing nearby.

THE RAT:

You're losing it, Damone.

DAMONE:

You're crazy. Those girls love me.

ANGLE ON JEFF SPICOLI

sprawled out in the bleachers with his surfer

stoner buddies. He turns to one admiring stoner

(Todd).

SPICOLI:

Hey, mon. Sign my annual.

Spicoli slips the annual into the kid's crotch. The

stoner winces in pain, but still opens the book and

lingers on all the signings in Spicoli's annual.

They are all drug-related messages from fellow

stoners. After a moment, Spicoli's friend signs:

"Thanks for the reds. Todd."

TODD:

Hey, mon, good thing we're going to

Mexico this summer. 'Cause you're

gonna get kicked out of your house

when your parents read your annual.

INT. GYMNASIUM - ANGLE ON DOOR

Brad Hamilton pushes both doors open, and makes his

entrance into the Last Dance. There is a lot of

activity going on, but all nearby eyes turn to Brad

as he walks into the dance. Fifteen kids

immediately gravitate towards him. They all want

Brad to sign their annuals, to talk about the 7-11

incident. Onstage, the T-Birds play the Beatles'

"It Won't Be Long".

We see Brad's old girlfriend Lisa push up to him.

Her new jock boyfriend holds a protective arm

around her.

LISA:

I saw your picture in the paper.

You had the greatest look on your

face!

ANOTHER STUDENT:

Front of the Metro Section. I'm

telling my parents, 'I know this

guy, I know this guy.'

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