What Goes Up Page #2

So what we do right now is different

because of what he did then.

Because whatever he did,

we're not the same because of it,

and that's never gonna

change thanks to him.

Excuse me.

Aren't you a reporter?

Yes.

You aren't reporting

about this, are you?

No. Sam and I were

at college together.

No. Sam wasn't English.

Yes, I know. Thank you.

No, I was at college

in the US with Sam.

I was kicked

out of Cambridge.

It's a long story.

I was covering the Christa

McAuliffe shuttle thing,

and I thought

I'd stop by.

I'm sorry.

Penelope Little.

Please forgive me.

You understand

I didn't want the press

getting involved

in all of this.

I'm assuming you

knew the circumstances.

Did Sam...

I mean, I notice

that it's not exactly

overflowing

with well-wishers.

Kill the lights.

He hated bad lighting.

Hey, Peg.

- What...

Oh, my God, you guys.

PENELOPE:
I live in the rooming house

where you're staying.

If you see me there,

please don't ask me to say anything.

I'm sure others will be more

than eager to talk and talk,

but if you're really his friend,

please don't ask them.

It was nice to meet you.

I like your shoes.

(DOOR OPENS)

(DOOR CLOSES)

# Hold on to the sack robes

of Jesus

# With the light of my eyes...

(DIALING)

Hey, Donna, it's me.

You guys are

f***ing nuts.

What...

F***!

I think I might actually

have something here.

# Asleep at the wheel of Jesus

I can't.

# ...that fell from the cross

# I woke up on

the last train to Jordan

# Whatever it was

I'm letting you know #

Everyone put something in?

Tess?

(MUSIC STOPS)

Can we help you?

CAMPBELL:
Sorry. Sorry,

I didn't mean to intrude.

It's Mr. C's

best friend.

Sorry,

I didn't mean to barge in.

BLYTHE:
What's your name?

Campbell Babbitt.

What's your last name?

Babbitt.

BLYTHE:
Where are you from?

ANN:
He's from Ireland.

England. I'm English.

You must miss him

so much.

Of course he does,

you dink.

Do you want to talk about it?

I mean, like,

you know, your feelings,

the hurt, the loss...

Well...

I mean, we knew him well, but not,

you know, best friends.

Well, I don't know.

I mean, you know,

maybe you guys

were his best friends.

(MURMURING)

Did he say that to you?

SYLVIA:
Did he?

SUE:
Mr. B? Are you a teacher, like Mr. C?

- Yeah? No.

Why? You think you're gonna

get him to take his place?

Forget it.

The Shed is dead.

We all get new

homerooms tomorrow.

They're reassigning us.

What?

Someone ought to say it.

Excuse me, Tess.

You don't know.

She doesn't know.

And when you don't know,

don't open your mouth,

because the rest

of us have ears

that get filled with your bullshit.

- Okay, come on. Come, come.

Freak.

So you came

to visit him?

Well, I was assigned to

cover the teacher in space.

Wait. So you're

a reporter?

But I thought

he was a teacher.

No, I'm with...

I say, I am a reporter.

That's why I'm here.

I want to talk to you guys.

EZRA:
I thought he was a teacher.

Guys, come here.

SUE:
No, I won't.

What do you want?

I thought perhaps

I could help out some way.

Help how?

You know, tell his story, tell

the world about him and you all.

What are you

talking about?

I spoke to my editor,

and she thinks

it could be

a very big story, so...

You don't know us

and we don't know you.

And you think

you're just going

to waltz in here and

do some big spread?

It could be his legacy.

We are his legacy.

Mr. Babbitt.

Yes.

You have to understand that

none of us trusted anything.

Mr. C, he made us give

a piece of ourselves,

I mean, something

that touches your soul

so, so deep that you're never,

ever the same.

And after that,

we trusted each other.

JIM:
Yeah. We trusted.

Right. Couldn't we just cut our

thumbs and rub them together?

This is weird.

It's very... It's very...

This is very

difficult for me.

Obviously,

I want you to trust me.

Then tell us.

GIRL:
Please.

He's got nothing to say.

I knew a single mother

who lost her only child.

He was shot,

a random killing.

He was holding her

hand at the time.

And the thing about Angela was,

even in mourning,

people felt better

being near her, stronger.

I thought if I

wrote about her,

I could recognize

that strength.

She didn't know

what she was.

A lot of people don't know

what they are.

Good people.

The point of

the story is

that people were moved

by the words I wrote

and they were

inspired by her.

And what, she lived

happily ever after?

No. She died.

She died, right?

And you loved her.

(STUTTERING) Well, no.

A journalist isn't supposed

to fall in love

with his subject, so...

But you did.

LUTE:
What did he say?

Who? What?

Mr. C, when you

told him about it.

He said,

"Keep telling stories

"and through the stories

we will find redemption."

TESS:

Thanks for giving me a ride.

That's why I have

a passenger seat.

So, what's

your thing, Tess?

What's your field?

Art.

Art. Cool.

So you knew him

really well?

Sam? Yeah.

Did he ever mention me?

Yeah. He spoke

very highly of you.

He said your work

was very strong.

Strong? He said that?

I guess he probably

mentioned that big

arts-and-crafts fair

we had last year, right?

Are you kidding?

He was so proud of the way you

guys put the whole thing together.

He talked about

the crafts and the arts...

God, f***.

Did you even know him?

- What?

There is no

arts-and-crafts fair.

Okay.

- I think I'm gonna be sick.

Okay.

- What else did you lie about?

Hey. Hey. It was

a long time ago, okay?

I did go to college

with him.

You said best friends.

I know. That was those twins.

They said it.

They're not twins.

- Well, whatever they are.

The girls with the...

The twinsey-type girls said that

and I didn't feel it was

my place to correct...

Oh, so you just lied.

Look, it seemed like

they needed to hear that,

you know, that he

really loved you guys.

And I may not have been

around to hear it firsthand,

but I knew Sam and,

you know, I...

He was a dedicated man,

and I'm sure whatever I said

was entirely true.

I'm going to tell you

something, all right?

He didn't fall off that roof.

He jumped.

He wasn't a hero or a martyr.

He just...

He gave a little too much love,

and he couldn't take it back.

To whom? To you?

Why don't you ask Lucy?

Lucy knows why he's dead.

Second house on the right.

Is that your...

Your dad's waiting for you...

That's not my dad.

(CAR DOOR CLOSES)

(SIGHS)

(KNOCKING ON DOOR)

Tess? It's Uncle Rick.

(LOCKING DOOR)

It's okay.

Your dad's asleep.

Come on, honey. Open up.

(DOORKNOB RATTLING)

18, 17, 16...

You remember?

I remember.

So take teenagers as

this subpopulation,

these desperate

thrill-seeking beasts.

Sexuality practically

oozes out of them.

They're potent.

Then take the rejects,

the disturbed,

the misunderstood,

the unteachable,

and you set them apart, isolate

them from their peer group.

Are you with me?

Isolated, potent rejects.

Gotcha.

Okay. Then along comes a teacher,

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