Wild Child

Sh*t.

Sh*t.

Molly? Molly.

- Molly.

Hey, I was listening to that.

Earth calling sisterling.

Have you forgotten...

today's the day

Rosemary moves in?

Like you'd let me

forget? Please tell me...

you're not going to

do anything crazy.

Look, you know I

love you, Mollster,

but there are some things...

you're just way too

young to understand.

I know what I'm

doing, though, okay?

- Trust me.

- Poppy.

All right, guys.

Let's give my dad's...

girlfriend the perfect

Malibu welcome.

Everyone, help yourselves.

You can keep it, or

you can throw it away.

Let's go, you guys.

You can keep that.

- I want the bouncy ball.

You get those. We

don't need them.

- All right, let's

get rid of it.

That dress is so hot.

Oh, Poppy, you've really

done it this time.

Ugh.

Hey, girls. Watch this.

- Where did she go?

- Is she okay?

- Is she still down there?

- She's still under.

- There might be sharks.

- Someone do something.

Welcome to Malibu, biatch.

Excuse me, excuse me.

Get up here, right

now. Get up here.

Please, go home. Home, home.

- So uncool.

- Easy, pops.

- Go on. Out, out.

- Yo, Dad.

- Loser.

Out, out, out. Let's

go. Come on. Out, out.

That is the final

straw, Poppy.

You are going to England.

- Let's go.

Yawn. The boarding

school threat again.

I don't even recognize

you any more.

All this is going

to stop right now.

So what? Big deal.

You can just replace

me with a newer,

trashier version, like

you did with Mom.

You are going to

boarding school...

in England, and that's final.

What? You think

just because Mom...

went to boarding

school in England,

it's going to magically

straighten me out?

Do you even remember Mom?

Hi, Molly.

I think you might've

pushed him too far this time.

I know.

But England's so far away.

Well, at least...

they speak American

there, right?

But who's going to cut

the crusts off my sandwiches?

You're going to be

fine, Moll. I promise.

In England, it rains 200

days out of the year.

- You will definitely get SAD.

- She is sad.

Seasonal affected disorder.

Depression due to

lack of sunlight,

resulting in acne

and weight gain.

- What?

- What? I saw it on Dr. 90210.

Not those shoes.

They don't do rain.

Just take them.

Hey, you promise

we'll talk every day?

Swear on your life?

Dude, who loves ya?

Everything's going

to suck without you.

Ruby, you're my best friend.

I'm going to miss you so much.

I know, let's check

out their website.

- Oh, my God.

- Oh, my God.

'Abbey Mount School is...

an independent

boarding school...

- 'for girls aged 11 to 17.'

- Oh, my God.

'Founded in 1797,

'the school is one

of England's...

top institutions

for young ladies.'

It's all brick.

Please tell me that's

not in the countryside.

Ugh.

Excuse me.

Hello. How are you?

- All right, Kate?

- Yes, thanks.

Very good.

Mr. Moore? I'm Mrs. Kingsley.

Oh, please, call me

Gerry. Thank you.

I am so grateful.

- I'm happy we could help out.

She's going through

rather a difficult stage.

Just leave it to

me, Mr. Moore.

I have a double

first in difficult.

- Hello, how are you?

- Hi.

- Good holiday?

- Yeah.

Good.

Hello, Poppy. Welcome

to Abbey Mount.

I'm Mrs. Kingsley,

your headmistress.

Look, I understand

you're just...

Uh-uh, uh-uh.

Lesson number one, Poppy.

To me negotiation is

like a nightclub.

Not something I

tend to enter into.

Now come along.

- Hello.

- Hi.

How are you?

Wow.

- Who's she?

- Wow.

Is she new?

- Wow.

- Look at those shoes.

Look at her.

Poppy, this is Kate.

She'll be your big

sister at Abbey Mount.

You'll soon settle in.

- Hi, how do you do?

- I already have a sister.

It's just school lingo.

I'll be your friend,

a helping hand, that's all.

Okay, but I choose my friends,

and FYI, you don't

make the cut.

I'm sure that comment

would sting...

a lot more if I knew

what FYI meant.

But, for the moment,

let's just pretend...

it's had the desired

effect, shall we?

Saddle up, girls.

We've got ourselves a bronco.

Mrs. Kingsley, a gift.

One for you and

one for Freddie.

Oh.

- Thank you.

- I shot them myself.

Oh, I don't doubt

that you did.

Well, perhaps you'd

like to keep a hold...

of them while I welcome

back the first years.

Nice thought, though.

Harriet. Head Girl.

You shake the hand

of the Head Girl...

out of respect.

When the Head Girl

has earned my respect,

then I'll shake

her hand, biatch.

- I'm sorry?

- Apology accepted.

Stunningly horridious ego...

desperately seeks

a good bashing.

Can we oblige? Methinks so.

We think so, too.

I'll call you

tomorrow morning,

as soon as I'm back in LA.

I hope your flight gets

seriously delayed.

And I hope your bags

end up in Kazakhstan.

I'll come back for you...

at the end of the

semester, all right?

Sweetheart, you

know I love you.

Bye.

I have to find this CD to play

for you guys. There it is.

You can borrow them,

but only indoors.

Yeah, my mum won't let me

wear high heels.

I've got to be reserve...

because I'm not

there all the time.

I heard this on the radio.

- Thank you.

- Nice catch.

Excuse me.

Hi. I've been

assigned this room.

You need to leave.

Oh, wow, communal.

Well, it's bed number

five or the corridor.

Your choice, mate.

Move your stinking

socks, Drippy.

Gross.

You lock away your chocolate?

Key information, if it's...

the Wagon Wheel

versus the Rolex,

the Wagon Wheel is going to

trounce it every time.

- What's a Wagon Wheel?

Jesu Christi, you

have not lived.

Ew.

- That's carbs and sugar.

What a revelation.

I had no idea.

- What the bleep is that?

None of your

bleeping business.

It's an iPhone.

Good luck getting a

signal. We only have...

two hot spots that

work round here.

Maybe you should try entering

the 21st century, Buck Rogers.

This place is medieval.

It's imperative that

I make my phone calls.

It's pointless anyway.

We're only allowed

mobiles on weekends.

How am I supposed to

call my therapist?

She's joking, right?

Oh, sweetheart,

this is not Beverly

Hills, 90210.

Just put it away before

Matron catches you.

- Where's your trunk?

- Hasn't been delivered yet.

No.

No, no, no. Not the

new season Gucci. No.

The Choos. No.

This is all only

hand-washable.

This is ridiculous.

- Why...

- What? I might get thirsty.

You know, in the

UK we have this...

amazing thing.

It's called a tap.

Welcome back, girls.

Oh, good, staff. How quickly...

can you get all

this stuff cleaned?

- Is she...

- American.

Oh, yes, we had one

of those in 1997.

Not good.

Accustom her to my

rules, and she should...

be in the correct

uniform for a start.

Mobile phones, please, girls.

Thank you, Kiki.

Thank you, Josie.

Thank you, Kate.

Whoa. Hands off, mama.

I said, hands off.

I am Scottish, not remedial.

Good, then you understand.

Line dry, press, no

starch, and no creases.

How dare you? No

mufti for a week.

Fine. Mufti may be

your thing, lady,

but it sure ain't mine.

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