Departing Seniors (2023) Movie Script
1
- How's that for you, Freddie?
You fucking pussy!
- Scream, ha.
This is what you get for
costing us the Championship
my senior year.
A winning record, ruined by
Freddie the Fucking Spaz!
What a fucking loser.
Whoa, calm down!
Help!
Help me!
Help!
- Wanna make yourself useful
and help me study?
- Whoa, slow down buddy!
- Sorry, sorry, Mr. Arda!
- Oh my God, does
that mean you're done?
Please, please, God, tell me it
means that you're done.
- Oh my God, chill.
- Shit, I almost
went four years
without ever stepping
foot in this place.
- You've never been
to the computer lab?
- No.
- Seriously?
- It's nothing,
but a fucking library
without the whimsy.
- 'Cause books are
so whimsical.
- Yes, they are.
- Well, I'm sorry to
tarnish your perfect record,
but Dennis refuses to
cover any more sporting events
and Mr. Arda needs me to
proof these pics
from the last baseball game
for the paper.
- Refuses?
There's one dead body
and the pussy can't do his job.
Pathetic.
- Bianca, come on.
- Javier, come on, please.
Or I'm going to
slit my wrist, like--
- Dude, don't joke like that.
- Okay, whatever.
Do you have
what you need or not?
- Uh...
Yeah.
- Then what the fuck
are we still doing here?
It's Friday.
School day is over.
Okay, and as a senior,
it is literally causing me like
physical pain to
still be in this building
after the final bell.
- Oh, well, you
should have said that earlier.
- Yeah.
- Come on, sweetie,
I don't want you to get hurt.
- Finally. You know, I was
getting ready to leave your ass.
- Oh, you love taking me home.
- Okay, home, sure why not.
Picking you up in the morning?
No. It's gotta stop.
Mm-mm.
- Alright, thank you.
- I mean you're welcome,
but don't get used to it.
I love you to bits,
but I refuse to miss out on
the 15 minutes of sleep it takes
to pick your ass up
before school.
- I'd hate for you to
miss out on
15 whole minutes
of beauty sleep.
- Yeah, that's why
you're my best friend.
You fucking get it.
- Besides, walking is good
for heart health anyway.
- Plus, beats being
a senior riding the bus.
Talk about pathetic.
- Hey, look at this twat.
Hey, buy a car, homo!
- You can't even hit me?
You're a fucking pitcher.
- Little fucker,
I could hit him if I wanted.
- Hey! Give that back!
- I'm sure you'd love
for me to give it to you.
Ooh! Ooh, ooh.
- Alright.
- Seriously,
what are we in middle school?
- J-- Come on, dude.
- Hey!
Oh!
Not so handsy, huh?
What are you...
Oh.
Oops.
- Dick.
- Those guys are such assholes.
- Fucking assholes.
God, I wish.
- Wait, what do you wish?
- I don't know.
- Mm-hm, yeah you wish,
that all those fucking assholes
would die horrifically,
gruesome deaths
via telekinetic vengeance?
- You watch too many movies.
- Oh, maybe.
Hey, but at least in Carrie,
all the high-school assholes
get what they deserve, right?
- Yeah, if only life
were more like the movies.
- Hmm. Yeah, yeah. If only.
Oh, man. Coming.
- Come on, guys!
I know it's
the last week of class,
and everyone's really excited,
but this is your final chance to
discuss your year end papers.
Due Thursday.
Worth half your grade.
Anybody?
Does anybody have anything?
Bueller? Bueller?
Yes, Ginny.
- Well, I feel
like I'm in pretty good shape,
but I suppose I--
- Of course, you do.
- Excuse me?
- Oh, sorry,
uh, I was just saying that
I'm really excited for you to
share what's sure to be
a staggeringly brilliant
literary analysis.
- Javier, please.
Ginny, go ahead?
- Well, I'm writing
on how Melville's portrayal
of an isolated,
exclusively male environment
acts as a study on the
problematic nature
of traditional patriarchal
societal structures.
- Basic.
- Okay, what was that?
- Oh, nothing just...
Basic.
Oh, I have like
a frog in my throat.
- No, he's calling you basic.
- Basic?
So what's your paper on?
- I'm analyzing
the homo-erotic undertones
in Melville's portrayal of
inter-male relationships.
- Well, hey,
oh man, what's the old saying?
"Write what you know."
- In that case shouldn't
your paper be on Starbuck?
- What?
- Now he's calling you basic.
- You know, Starbuck.
Like-- like the character.
From the book?
- Thank God.
Alright,
papers are due Thursday.
No extensions.
I don't care what the reason is.
Thursday. Alright?
Uh, Javier, can you stick around
a sec after class?
- Hey.
I'm-- I'm sorry, Mr. Arda,
she just like,
she triggers me.
- Wouldn't let her get to you.
Year's almost over.
I was actually hoping the photos
from Saturday's game were ready.
- Oh, yeah, yeah, totally.
- Okay, great!
Bring them by after class.
I'll be here.
- Cool.
- Oh, and Javier?
- Yeah?
- Anybody's ever bullying you
or anything?
- Oh, I'm fine.
Really.
I'm g-- I'm all good.
- Okay, if you say so.
- Thank you.
- Okay, go off,
go long, go long, go long!
- Guys!
- I am so sorry Mr. Arda.
- Put me out of
my misery if I ever end up as
a high school English teacher.
- You got it, babe.
- Hey.
- Hey.
- Sorry for the lame
Starbucks joke back there.
- Oh, no,
no apologies necessary.
I'll take all the
support I can get.
- Your-- your paper,
it seems really
like interesting.
- Really?
- Yeah.
- Oh, thanks.
- Yeah, I mean,
if you like wanted a second
pair of eyes for--
for feedback or whatever.
- Yeah.
- We could hang sometime.
- Yeah.
- Cool.
- Cool, no,
that sounds-- that sounds cool.
- Sweet.
- Sweet.
- See you.
- Yeah, I'll-- I'll see you.
We can meet at Starbucks.
- Yeah.
- Whoa.
You'll never guess
what happened after class.
- You gave Mr. Arda a hand job.
- No, what?
- Mr. Arda gave you a hand job?
- No, gross.
- Oh, a blowie?
- Will you stop it?
- Oh, Javier,
okay, no, no, no, okay,
what's up, what's up,
what happened?
- I think William asked me out.
- Hey, no way.
William, William?
Like cute little
trumpet William?
- Yes.
- He of the ambiguous sexuality?
- Well,
slightly less ambiguous now.
- Yeah.
- But, yeah.
- Okay.
Okay, this is awesome.
I mean, you had your
eye on the dude
since he transferred here
like last semester.
- That is not true.
Okay, well, maybe just a little.
- Yeah, a little, uh-huh.
Come on, this is awesome.
This is your big chance.
Nothing more pathetic than
an 18-year-old virgin.
- Right.
- God,
Javier is such a tool.
You know, it's like he thinks
that just because
he's this gay Mexican,
he has the monopoly
on all valid perspectives
of theoretical criticism.
- About English again?
- Yes,
it's about
AP-fucking-English, Trevor.
It's like here I am, busting
my ass to be valedictorian,
oh, and up comes Javier,
affirmative action-ing his way
to all my scholarship money.
- Dude does have a 4.0.
- And your mom is loaded,
it's not like
you need the scholarships.
- Not the fucking point,
Trevor.
Hey, you know what?
Give me your phone, Trev.
- Why?
- I've got an idea.
- Yeah, take again,
take another hit.
Ooh, see, it's not working,
'cause you blow it like.
- Well,
I don't know how to do it.
Just I don't know how to vape.
- Big cloud, big cloud.
That was so small, but--
I fucking hit it.
What the fuck does he
mean by peer review?
- I don't know.
What do-- what do I respond?
- Easy, just be like,
"Ooh yeah, baby,
I want to suck that D."
- Why do I ever think
you're actually gonna help?
Okay, what about uh,
"Sure, I have to meet
Mr. Arda after school,
but right after that, library?"
- Mm-hmm, peer review.
I've never heard
these gay words.
- How's that for homo-erotic
undertones?
- Idiot.
- Wow, these are really great.
- Thanks.
- You've got a real eye,
you know that?
Think you're gonna stick with
photography at Northwestern?
- I think so.
Yeah, hopefully, I can
get on staff at the Daily.
- That'd be awesome.
I know you're gonna kill it.
So uh, you must be really glad
to be getting out of here, huh?
- Uh, I guess, yeah.
- Who we kidding?
High school can
really suck sometimes,
especially if you--
you don't quite fit in.
You know, you really remind me
of myself when I was your age.
- I do?
- Yeah.
I mean, you've got great
taste in music, for starters.
- What? You like Los Bunkers?
- You kidding me?
Vida de Perros came out when
I was in high school myself.
- Get out.
- I swear.
- I fucking love Vida de Perros.
I-- oh, man, most English
teachers don't know their
Chilean all-rock groups.
- I'd like to think I'm not
like most English teachers.
I'm actually a cool
English teacher.
I mean, I'm-- I'm cool, right?
- Yeah, you're, yeah.
- The kids think I'm cool?
- The-- yeah.
I don't know, but I wouldn't
trust what they think.
I think you're the
coolest teacher I've had.
- I'm kidding with you.
- Alright.
Oh, I'm gonna go.
- Yeah, no, absolutely.
These were great.
Thank you so much for these.
- Yeah, of course.
- Yeah.
- Thank you.
- Thank you.
Absolutely, Javier.
- See you tomorrow, Mr. Arda.
- Perfect.
- What's that?
- Oh, I swung by the
coffee shop on my free period,
ordered a pumpkin spice latte.
I'll teach you to call me
"basic", dickhead.
- You're not seriously
gonna throw coffee
on the guy, are you?
- Lighten up, man.
It's not even hot anymore.
- Shh, back up. Here he comes.
Okay, go.
- Hey.
- William?
- You wish, asshole.
- What the fuck?
You guys can't leave
me alone for an hour?
- Who's basic now?
- Uh, still you, bitch.
- Watch it, cock breath.
- What exactly
was the point of this mess?
- Oh, I don't know.
Just expounding on your thesis.
If Melville was analyzing
the homo-erotic undertones
of inter-male relationships,
your pathetic excuse for
a life is-- is what?
Um, a study in
the homo-erotic overtones
of the sadly
solitary male singular?
Do you know how pathetic
you look leaping at the
first chance you got to fool
around with that band geek?
- You think
you're so fucking smart?
- Mm. And you think you're
so fucking special.
- Do you have anything to add?
- Why would he?
- Shut up, Javier.
- He didn't tell you?
I thought you guys
were best friends.
- I said shut up, Javier.
- Well, uh, let me clue you in.
While you two, best bud,
teammate, whatever the fucks,
were off having your
no-homo bro time,
Brad here was in fact
analyzing some undertones
himself, so to speak.
With me.
- Brad!
- No fucking way.
- I said shut up!
- Hey, what?
No, come here.
- Get off me!
Oh my God!
Are you guys fucking serious?
Your pathetic
excuse for a life.
- Buy a car, homo!
- Yeah, but at least
in Carrie all the high school
assholes get what they deserve.
- Anybody's ever bullied you?
- If only life were
more like the movies.
- Go, go, go,
let's go, let's go, let's go.
- Where am I?
- Oh shit.
Javier, you're awake.
- Mr. Arda?
- Okay, don't try to--
don't try to move.
The nurse will be
back here in a minute.
- What?
What? What happened?
- We were actually hoping
that you'd be able
to tell us that.
Officer Stevens just left,
but if--
- The police were here?
- Yeah, I-- I called the cops
after I found you.
You were at-- at the bottom
of the stairs unconscious.
I just left my class.
- Yeah, to meet--
- To meet who, Javier?
Okay, no, no, no, just relax.
- I'm fine.
No, no, I'm not.
- Who did this to you, Javier?
- Nobody.
I-- I just fell.
I slipped.
Seriously, I just--
I fell down the stairs
when I was rushing to leave.
Idiot, right?
- Hello, Mr. Campos.
Oh, hello.
- Oh, uh, well,
give you guys some privacy.
- Javier, um,
hope to see you back
in class tomorrow.
I'm just glad you're okay.
- Thanks, Mr. Arda.
- So, Javier,
how are we feeling tonight?
- Oh,
well, I don't know about you.
Personally, I feel--
I feel like shit.
You know?
Turns out, falling down the
stairs is not a great time.
- Mm, yeah, well,
you have to be careful.
Stairs can be tricky.
- Telling me.
- Now, you are
a very lucky young man.
- Lucky?
What, are you kidding me?
- Well, you did fall down
a flight of stairs
and you barely have
a scratch on you, so yeah.
I'd say you're pretty lucky.
You know,
if you'd have landed in even
a slightly different angle...
- What the fuck?
- I'm sorry.
- The hell was that?
- Did I hurt you?
- Uh, no, I'm fine.
Uh, sorry.
- Are-- are you sure?
- Yeah, I just--
I really want to get
the fuck out of here.
- Okay, well, your father's
filling out your paperwork,
so that he can take you home.
- Okay.
- Overall,
everything is looking fine.
You're just going to need to
keep that neck brace on
for the next day or two.
- What? For real?
- Yeah.
Look, in the meantime,
how about I make you
a little bit more comfortable?
Yeah?
Okay.
I'm not gonna bite.
- Okay.
That's pretty.
- This? Thanks.
It was a gift from
my grandfather.
He passed away not too long ago,
but I like to wear it,
'cause it keeps him close.
- Sorry for your loss.
Shit.
I'm losing it.
- Hey, mijo. How you doing?
- I'm fine. Totally fine.
Why?
- I just wanted to make sure
you weren't in too much pain.
- Oh. Yeah.
No, I'm good.
- If you're sure.
I should head to work.
And you should get going, too.
You don't want to miss the bus.
- Fuck the bu--
Pa, come on. Not again.
- Sorry, mijo.
Doctor said walking to
school, too much exertion.
Plus, look at the time.
- You can't send me on the bus.
Pa, I-- I almost died.
- You said you were fine
two seconds ago.
- Well, it's too late
for me to call Bianca.
I mean, we barely make it to
first period on time
when she knows she's
picking me up in advance.
- Hence, bus.
- Wait.
- I'm sorry, Javi.
I'd love to drive you to school.
I would.
But unlike high school students,
college professors need to
be on time to their classes.
- No, it's not that.
It's just, um...
We don't have like, um--
- Any day now, mijo.
- Do we have a history of
mental illness in the family?
- Uh, no.
Not that I can think of.
But not unless you count Ta
Lupe, she was always a little--
She used to claim
she had psychic powers.
- Psychic powers?
- Yeah, but you know
how it is with la gente?
Nobody talks about
those kinds of things.
Mental health.
It's always.
Well, have a good day, mijo.
- Oh shit,
what the fuck happened to you?
- Dude, something seriously
fucked up is going on.
- Wait, I get it.
You got a little
over excited last night just--
- I got pushed down
the fucking stairs.
- What?
- That text wasn't from William.
- Hey.
Nice neck brace.
Ow.
- I'm gonna fucking kill them.
- No.
- No?
What the fuck do you mean no?
Aren't you furious?
- Of course, I am.
But I'm also just
freaking the fuck out.
- Javier?
Can we talk for a minute?
- Ow. What the fuck?
- What the fuck?
What the fuck?
You already know what
the fuck is, you asshole.
- Bianca.
- You know what, come here.
Come here, so I can punch you
in the fucking face again.
Don't walk away from me,
you fucking cock jock bitch.
- Bianca, B,
just--
just give us a sec, okay?
No, I-- I'll be,
just-- just a sec, okay?
- Alright.
You know what, Brad?
I'ma be right over there.
Give me an excuse, any reason.
Please, I'd love to
come back over here
and have you eat some more
of my rings, you bitch.
Got you, Javi.
- What do you want, Brad?
- I wanted to say I'm sorry.
- You're sorry?
- Yeah.
I-- I tried to,
I came to your room--
- I know. I saw you.
- I went to the bathroom,
by the time I came back,
the nurse said you were gone.
- Yeah.
Just wanted to go home.
- Listen, Javier.
I know things between us
have been complicated.
- Brad--
- It's not that I don't,
I just-- I just can't.
Javier, I'm not like you.
- You're not like me?
What? Mexican?
Yeah. Uh, I think I knew.
Gay?
Brad, I know you better than
anyone else at this school
and I'm pretty damn sure--
- I'm not brave like you.
I don't know if I'm...
what I am.
I'm still figuring things out.
- Yeah. Yeah.
No, I get that.
- And about what
happened yesterday.
Obviously, I'm so sorry--
- Are you fucking kidding me?
- I never meant to--
- Oh, to push me down
a stairwell?
Oh, well, if he
didn't mean it, guys.
Right?
Glad to hear it, man.
- I was gonna
give this to you last night.
I am sorry, you know?
- Yo, what the fuck, Javier?
What the fuck?
Javier, what the fuck?
- Shit.
- Yo, what the fuck, Javier?
- Hey, nice neck brace, asshole.
- Eat my ass, Peter!
- Ow, dick.
- Mental health day.
Mental health day.
Like, are you sure?
Like, for sure? For sure?
- No, I don't-- I don't know.
I mean, like--
Listen, I know things that I--
I couldn't possibly know.
- Ooh. Like what?
- Well,
you paint in the nude for one.
- Oh, yeah. I do.
What, I never told
you that before?
- No!
- Hmm.
- I saw it.
- Okay, but like,
it first happened
when the nurse touched you.
- Yeah, and then when
I touched your painting.
- Ooh, which one?
- The one of us.
- Oh, I like that one.
- Focus, Basquiat.
And then when
I touched Brad's teddy bear.
- Okay, but like
is there a rhyme or a reason
to these visions?
Like is this gonna--
- Stop that.
Oh, cut that shit out right now.
No, not that I can tell.
I mean--
I can't control them.
That I know for sure.
- But they're
triggered by touch.
Of either like a person
or a thing.
- Yeah, they have been so far.
They're practically
random otherwise.
- I'ma get my vision.
- I will fucking--
- You know,
I just can't believe--
- I know, it's just crazy.
- That you didn't
tell me about Brad.
- That's what you're hung up on?
- Yeah, yeah, like visions,
questioning your sanity,
whatever.
Like blah, blah, blah.
You have been fucking Brad--
- That's not the point, B!
I mean, when I-- when I
touched the-- I saw-- I th--
I think Brad had killed himself.
- Maybe.
- That's all you have to say?
- Okay,
what do you want me to say?
- I don't know.
This conversation isn't exactly
going how I expected it to go.
- Hm. No?
- No! B, I'm freaking out!
Like yesterday, I practically
bashed my brains in
fallen down the fucking stairs.
And then I started
having hallucinations
or visions or some shit,
and you're just
like, you know, "whatevs."
Like, you're hung up on the fact
that Brad and I
are sleeping together.
I'm telling you,
he might kill himself.
- What? I don't not care
that Brad might kill himself.
- Meanwhile, I'm terrified
that I'm just gonna end up
like my crazy Ta Lupe.
- What happened to Ta Lupe?
- Nothing. She died
of old age in like 1999,
but everyone thought
she was nuts.
- Okay, well,
first of all, you are not nuts.
Okay, this kind of shit
happens like all the time.
- All the time?
- Okay, maybe not all the time,
but it happens.
Haven't you ever
seen The Dead Zone?
- No.
- Okay, it's fine.
Book's better.
What about The Witching Hour?
- No.
- Charmed?
- No.
- Rose Red?
- No! B, focus!
- It's called "psychometry".
It's not an unheard of ability.
You touch people or things
and then have visions
about the past or future
of that person or--
- Wait, psychometry? What?
How do you know--
How do you know about this?
- Doesn't matter.
The point is,
the weirdest thing that's
happening with all of this
is that all this time,
you've been schtupping Brad
and didn't have the decency
to tell me, your best friend,
you fucking dick.
I mean, I told you about
when I lost my V-card
to Sean Freeman at summer camp.
And then when I made out with
Katherine Ryder at that--
I don't know what--
- I know, I know. Okay.
Hey, you're--
I'm sorry, alright.
I've-- I've--
I've been tweaking.
- I get it.
I do.
Don't let that shit
happen again, okay?
- I won't. I promise.
- What?
- Nothing.
So will you help me?
- Right, okay.
Uh, for starters, these uh--
these visions.
If we're gonna move forward
under the assumption that
these visions are real,
which you know,
I'm inclined to do,
we've got to figure out what
exactly you're dealing with.
- So far, the Internet's
only marginally helpful.
- Well, are the visions
of the past or the future?
- Both.
The one with the nurse,
I mean, definitely
seemed to be the past, but--
The one about Brad--
- Oh, I've got nothing.
- What?!
- What, what?
Oh, did you-- did you want me
to write you a prescription?
I'm not a doctor.
Barely passed in AP Chem.
- You sure as hell
act like an expert.
- I have a natural confidence.
Don't hate on
my air of authority.
- I just feel like everything's
spiraling out of control.
- Mm. Well, the idea that there
was any control to begin with is
a fucking illusion.
There's only one
thing in the universe
we have even the
tiniest bit of control over.
- What's that?
- Ourselves.
Our choices.
- Comforting.
- I kind of think so.
It's okay. It means
we've got a decision to make.
- What decision?
- Well, do you want to let
your down-low boy-toy pull
a dingle-dangle
in the locker room,
or are you gonna do
something about it?
- Bianca.
- What?
Like just yesterday you were
wishing gruesome deaths
on those assholes,
Brad included.
And that was before they
pushed you down the stairs.
- Nice, nice, nice, nice, nice.
- Thanks, man.
- It's good.
Dude.
- Dude.
- You're still
my best bro and all.
But is it cool if you like
just hold off for a sec?
- What--
what do you mean?
- The shower.
- You're not serious.
- I'm sorry, dude,
but now that you're a homo,
I can't just let you peep
at our collective junk.
- You kidding me?
- Dude, I'm captain.
I have to watch
out for the team.
- Fuck you, man!
- It doesn't matter, okay?
We have to do something.
- Agreed.
Time to make a move.
- Like?
- Oh, I don't know,
Mr. Not-So-Valedictorian.
Maybe go talk Brad out of
fucking killing himself.
You're such an idiot sometimes,
you know that?
That's way harsh, B.
- All yours, man.
- Thanks for the consideration.
- Hello?
Trevor, is that you?
- Let's go.
- Coming. Shit.
- Trevor?
- Trevor? Where's Brad?
- Why the fuck do you care?
- Listen, fuck-face,
it's an emergency.
- What are you doing?
- It's locked.
- What do you mean it's locked?
- Did everyone leave?
- When did this ever locked?
Brad! Open the door!
- Brad!
- Brad!
- Brad!
- Brad, open the door!
- Brad!
- Brad!
You don't have to do this!
Come on, let's call the police.
- No.
- I was too late.
- It's not your fault.
- I couldn't stop him.
- Javier.
- If only I'd talked to him.
If only I just
really talked to him.
If only I hadn't outed him
in front of Ginny and Trevor.
Fuck!
- I was giving him shit.
I shouldn't have,
'cause he was my friend.
But I was giving him shit for,
you know, for being gay.
I didn't mean for him...
He's my best friend.
- I gotta get out of here.
- Yeah, yeah,
I'll drop you home.
- You know, um,
as your teacher, I'm--
I'm expected to stand up here
and have all of the
answers to everything.
But-- but you're
old enough now to know
that there are certain things
for which there
really aren't any answers.
Teen suicide.
Death.
The loss of life.
It's always tragic.
And even more so when that--
that life was
so certain to be full of--
And the thing that we all have
to come to terms with here
is that Brad was
struggling with something that--
that-- that we had
no awareness of.
Yet I know that Brad and Phil,
who left us
earlier this year as well,
would have
wanted us to carry on.
Graduation Day is this Friday
and we have to
remember to celebrate
the legacies of guys
like Brad Warren, Phil Casey,
the impact they've left us with.
It will never be forgotten,
but their spirit
lives on with us.
As Melville writes,
"It is only when caught in the
swift, sudden turn of death,
that mortals realize
the silent, subtle,
ever-present perils of life."
- What?
- Attention, departing seniors.
After much consideration,
the faculty has decided
to proceed as planned
with this Thursday night's
Farewell Lock-In.
- Yes.
- Also, the counseling staff is
available throughout the day
for all of your emotional needs.
Thank you.
That is all.
- Well, then.
- It's bullshit.
Isn't it fucked up?
I mean, Brad literally
just killed himself.
Like at least
when Phil killed himself,
we canceled
last week's pep rally.
- I mean, it is fucked up.
It's also not your fault.
You know that, right?
- I do.
- Do you?
I mean, it's okay to be sad.
Your boyfriend just died.
- Okay,
well, he wasn't my boyfriend.
- I know,
but saying you're a fuck buddy
just sounds
really disrespectful.
- Yeah, it does.
- Look, I'm just saying
you can feel your feelings,
but you got other things to
worry about right now.
- Batter's out! Strike three!
- Did you hear me?
Shit.
- He's trying to apologize.
- I said I was sorry.
- Right.
- Brad was my best friend.
- I-- I know.
I know how close you guys were.
- You guys were like--
partners or whatever?
- Well, wait. Partners?
- Maybe if I had known.
Or if I had more time.
I was such a dick!
- And asshole, even.
- You're not helping.
- Things that I said to him.
- Hey.
Whoa, whoa, hey!
Come on, man.
You were just trying to
watch out for the team.
- What did you just say?
- What?
- About the team.
- I--
I don't-- I don't know.
- You couldn't. But you did.
You couldn't know, but you did.
- Let's go, Javier.
- You knew Brad
was gonna do something!
That's why you were
there after practice!
How did you know?
- Yo, weren't you just
apologizing for being a dick?
- Come on, Trev.
- Another one?
- Yeah.
- What'd you see?
- Brad.
I think Trevor really loved him.
- I saw a porno like that once.
- What the fuck, B?
- I'm sorry,
I'm just really bad at this like
emotional sensitivity shit.
- No shit.
Fuck!
Fuck.
- Hey.
Look, I know you're like
really sad and angry right now,
but don't let your anger
get the best of you, okay.
Here comes Billy Boy.
- Hey.
- Hey.
- Hey.
Oh.
Uh, girl, what was that?
Yeah, I'll walk with you.
Over there.
Sorry, y'all, I gotta go.
I just-- I'll be over
here walking with her.
Somewhere.
You know what?
I'll just be over here.
- So, um, I--
I wanted to say sorry.
About Brad, I mean.
- You did?
- Yeah.
My condolences.
- Thanks.
I mean, we weren't--
We're--
I don't know what we were.
It was complicated.
I didn't exactly know
that our complications
were common knowledge, though.
- Right.
No, I-- I mean,
I didn't want to
assume anything,
but you definitely seem sad.
Like particularly sad about it.
- Yeah. Uh...
I guess I am.
- I mean, people seem to have
really liked him and all,
but, hell,
you look around,
people seem more
concerned with graduation
and the lock-in and the fact
that two guys died this year.
- Yes! It's fucked up!
With Phil,
the whole school shut down!
Like we had a four-day weekend.
- They canceled
the pep rally and everything.
- Exactly! And Brad
doesn't even get a half-day?
What the fuck?
It's like we used up
all our grief points.
What?
- Sorry.
I-- I didn't mean to laugh.
- No, it's-- it's cool.
- I know you're probably
going through a lot.
- You have no idea.
- Huh?
- Nothing.
- I was just gonna say,
I'd like to be there for you.
If like you needed to
talk or whatever.
- Yeah?
- Yeah,
I've been watching you.
- What?
- I mean, just that like,
I've seen you around.
You seem like a really cool guy.
I'd really like to
get to know you better.
- Oh, uh.
- Idiot!
- I'm so sorry.
- Oh, of course.
Sorry.
You must still be hurting.
- My neck, the neck brace.
My neck.
- Yeah.
- Yeah, yeah, I am.
I'm still hurting.
It's just,
it's all tender up in here.
Right there.
- Anyway, I'm officially
super late for physics.
I spent all night
studying simple machines.
Talk soon?
- Definitely.
What a weird fucking day.
- Wait.
- What?
- I can't.
- Can't what? Go to Trig?
- Yeah.
- Seriously?
- I just have to
get out of here.
I'm gonna cut the
rest of the day.
- Are you sure?
What about your attendance?
- We're seniors.
It's our last week of classes
and my best friend just died.
I'm sure they'll understand.
- Where are you going?
- Come on, Ginny.
It's the farthest
thing from my mind.
- Here.
Take my car.
See you after.
- Thanks, babe.
Yeah, I just need to
not be here right now.
- I get it.
- What about Ginny?
- What about who?
- Oh.
- How much class do you think
we've actually attended
these past four years?
- Enough.
- You think?
- You're practically
valedictorian whether
Ginny Macher likes it or not
and I am doing more than fine.
Thank you very much.
Who gives a fuck
if we miss a few classes?
- Reduce, reuse,
recycle, asshole.
- Another one?
What is it?
- Trevor.
- Murder?
- What I said.
- Fuck, dude!
- Yeah.
- I mean, if anyone's gonna die,
though like--
- Bianca!
- What? Trevor is such
an asshole.
- Yeah.
- No, he made your life
in high school a living hell.
- We can't just let him die.
- Actually, we could.
- Bianca!
- I'm sorry,
I'm driving, aren't I?
I'm just saying.
- Come on, come on.
Where is this guy?
- Wait, I remember something.
- Well?
- I--
I've seen the place before.
- Details, bitch.
- In-- in--
in my vision,
Trevor, Brad, and Ginny were
parked overlooking the sunset.
It's the same place.
It's gotta be.
- You've reached
Brad Warren,
but I can't answer
the phone right now.
Uh, please leave a message
and I'll get back to you
whenever I can.
- Hey, man.
I know you'll never get this.
But I guess I just wanted
to hear your voice.
And I wanted to tell you,
I'm sorry.
I'm really sorry.
And I can't believe you're gone.
And I'm really gonna
miss you, Brad.
I'm really gonna miss you.
- Where you going?
- If there's only
one place in town
high up enough to
see everything,
one place where
all the dipshits go
after their pep rallies
and shit.
- The parking structure
by the old library!
Let's go!
Floor it! Floor it!
- Shit!
- Keep driving.
- Roger that.
You okay, buddy?
That's gross.
- Someone's doing this, Bianca.
Someone's killing our friends.
- Do we really
call those guys our friends?
- Bianca!
- Shit, sorry.
- I mean,
we're talking about murder.
Like, we're actually really
talking about murder.
- The news outlets are
already reporting it as--
- A suicide? As if!
Who the hell just walks off the
edge of a parking structure?
- People who want to
commit suicide.
Hey, are you sure you saw
what you think you did?
- Positive.
- Shit.
- What the hell
are we gonna do?
- Okay, well,
we can't go to the cops.
- Obviously.
- At least, not without
any like hard evidence.
- Which would consist of what?
- I have no fucking clue!
- Great.
- Hey, but we do have
a shit ton of soft evidence.
- What the hell
is soft evidence?
- Dude, okay,
thanks to the universe or God
or the statistics
of brain damage.
Fuck it, thanks to
your crazy Ta Lupe,
you're having these visions,
right?
We can use them to
figure out who's fucking
playing Billy Loomis here.
We can--
we can backtrack from there,
gather any actual
evidence we need,
and then, wham-o, stick the cops
on this sick fucker!
Shit, that hurt, bro.
- So, who can get to him
before it's too late?
- Him.
Or her.
- What about Ginny?
- What about who?
- Dude!
- I'm busy, man.
- Dude!
Ginny's out of her
student council meeting.
Tish said they finished early.
- Shit. You gotta go.
- What?
- Get out of here!
- Asshole.
- Thanks for the heads up.
- Hey, sweetheart.
How are you holding up?
- About as well
as can be expected.
- Listen,
I've been thinking about it
and I think
you should stay home.
For the rest of the week.
I can write you a note.
- I can't, Mom.
- Sure, you can.
- No, I can't.
I have responsibilities.
- I'm sure your
classmates will understand.
- It doesn't matter
if they understand or not.
I'm class president.
I'm valedictorian.
I'm in charge of
the Senior Lock-In.
- Ginny, calm down.
- You calm down, Deborah.
- Excuse me?
- Sorry, Mom.
I'm sorry.
- Listen, I know
this must be hard for you.
- I'd prefer
not to talk about it.
- Death is--
- I said, I don't want to
talk about it.
- Fine.
You can talk about
it on your own time.
With Dr. Rosenberg.
- Add it to the list.
- What?
- Nothing.
- I wish you would reconsider.
- I can't.
Nothing is turning out
like it was supposed to.
You know, this is the
end of our senior year.
It was supposed to be perfect.
- I know, baby.
- Happy Thursday,
Springhurst Barons!
- Happy Thursday?
- Over the past few days,
our school has faced
a series of tragic suicides.
The impact of which no one
feels more acutely than I do.
- Oh, acutely?
Putting that SAT vocab
to practice, I hear.
- But more than anything,
I know that Trevor Strode,
and Brad Warren
would want us to strive on.
To celebrate our achievements.
So, as is tradition here
at Springhurst High,
the night before graduation
is our Senior Lock-In!
And as your class president
and valedictorian,
it is my honor to
officially invite
all departing seniors to
join me this evening
to spend the night
in these hallowed halls
and bid farewell to what is
soon-to-be our alma mater.
- Wow.
- Seriously,
can you say heartless?
- She's not entirely heartless.
- Her boyfriend was just
murdered
and she's out here wishing
everybody a happy Thursday.
- I feel like it'd be weirder
if she was a weep-fest.
This is exactly how I'd expect
Miss Perfection to handle
anything more emotionally
trying than a statistics exam.
- I guess, totally in character,
but like too much in character.
Like she's trying way
too hard to be morbid.
Business as usual, carrying on.
Like she's covering
something up.
Her murderous sociopathy,
for instance.
- Ginny's a lot of things,
but do you really think that--
Do you really think
she's a murderer?
- I just--
I really don't see why not.
Everybody knows
Trevor was a dog.
Dude had half the cheerleading
team on a tight rotation
and who helped him keep it
under wraps for so long? Hmm?
Oh yes, that would be
his closeted bestie.
- Brad, I know,
I just--
I don't know,
I just really don't think--
- Don't think what?
- I don't--
I don't think that, um--
- That we're gonna go
to the Lock-In.
You know,
out of respect for the dead,
the dead who we've respected
so-- so much in this life.
- No?
It's a bummer.
It's gonna be fun.
- You're going?
- Yeah.
I was actually
hoping you were, too.
- Yeah.
- Yeah?
- Yeah.
- Okay, that's enough of that.
- Well, I mean
that I guess there's no reason
that we can't respect the dead
and go to the Senior Lock-In.
- Multitasking.
- Yeah.
- Sure, I like it.
- Cool.
I mean, I guess I'll
see you tonight then.
- Tonight?
Tonight.
- You guys are so gross.
- At least, I have options.
Oh, wait,
William, you dropped your--
- All departing seniors,
please remember to bring
your permission slip
to the gymnasium
- Shit.
to report to
this year's Lock-In.
- Yo, Javi, are you okay?
I had somehow convinced
Nurse Hernandez
not to contact your dad.
- Where are you?
- In the gym,
herding all the seniors in here
for like pizza and shit.
- It's William.
- What is?
- The killer. I saw it.
Bianca.
I thought he liked me.
- No, I'm sorry, Javi.
- He's after Ginny
and she's next.
- Are you sure?
- Yes, yes,
I saw it when I picked up
his copy of Moby Dick.
Okay, we have to find him
before he gets to her.
- I'm on it.
Meet me in the band room.
- The band room?
- The band room.
- Okay, I'm on my way.
And Bianca.
Just be careful.
- Where the fuck is he?
- Are you sure Javier
will actually be into
a trumpet serenade?
- Uh, yeah, no, he loves it.
He's like--
always like, you know,
if music be the fruit of love,
play on.
- Yeah? A regular Orsino, huh?
- Yeah.
Yeah, sure.
- I really like him, Bianca.
- Oh?
- And when I see the way people
at this school treat him,
it just makes me so angry.
- Angry, you say?
- Yes, very angry.
- Cool, yeah, cool.
How angry are we talking?
You know, on a scale of 1 to 10?
- Let's just say
I've let my anger
get the better of me before.
Like in my old school.
- Interesting.
- Maybe that's why
I was so eager
to have a fresh start here.
To meet new people who
didn't know that side of me.
- Mm-hmm.
- But to see
the way people like Trevor
and Ginny treat
a great guy like Javier,
just reminds me
that new school or not,
people are all the same.
Shitty.
But maybe a trumpet serenade
will take his mind off that.
- Ginny? Is that you?
- Who's that?
- It's me.
- Javier?
- A murderous
trumpet-playing Casanova.
People are so weird.
- Hey, listen, I know this
is gonna sound really weird,
but you're in danger
and we have to get out of here,
like right now.
- What the fuck
are you talking about?
- I'll explain it all later,
but right now we have to go.
For real.
- You're nuts.
- Bianca?
What the fuck?
Shit, my head.
- Sorry not sorry, Billy Loomis.
That's what happens
when you murder people.
- Please,
you just have to trust me.
- Okay, why should I?
- Murder people?
What the fuck are you--
Is this an extension cord?
- Yeah,
like where the fuck am I
supposed to find rope
in this place?
- Listen, just let me go.
We can talk this out.
- Oh, as if, Norman Bates.
Once Javier gets here,
we'll figure out how to prove
that you're the one behind
this mysterious rash
of tragic teenage suicides
and then
we'll let you go, alright?
Into the custody of
the police, murder boy.
- Because I'm trying
to help you.
- Okay, that's exactly
what doesn't make any sense.
- What?
- What reason have I ever
given you to want to help me?
- I don't know
what you're talking about.
- I'm talking about Brad
and Trevor.
I'm talking about Ginny.
- Ginny's dead?
- Not yet. She--
um, I mean just--
Shut up!
We are on to you.
Javier has your
copy of Moby Dick.
- What does that
have to do with this?
- I said shut up!
- No, what does
my copy of Moby Dick
have to do with anything?
I lost it halfway
through the semester.
- What?
- Yeah, I finished
reading it early, then lost it.
I had to borrow a copy
to finish my final paper.
- Borrow?
From who?
- Ginny, we can discuss
the magnitude
of your cuntiness later.
Right now we have to go.
- Okay,
get the fuck off me!
- He's here.
- Who is?
- We need to go. Right now.
- What the fuck is going on?
- Brad and Trevor
didn't kill themselves.
- You're fucking insane!
- No, they were murdered.
And if you don't listen to
me, you're gonna be next.
- Are you threatening me?
- For someone
who's supposedly so smart,
you really are a dumb bitch.
- No.
- Okay, Mr. Arda,
what's going on?
- A balancing of the scales.
- What?
- What are you talking about?
- No, no, no, no, no.
Mr. Arda, you're
supposed to be William.
- Excuse me?
- I-- I saw the book.
I saw it.
You-- It can't be you.
You were the only teacher
who-- You're so kind to me.
- Javier, it's okay.
You're confused. I get it.
Just try to relax. Breathe.
I'm gonna take
care of everything.
- Mr. Arda,
I don't understand.
- Of course, you don't.
Understanding, compassion,
human decency,
all outside of your depth.
You fucking bitch.
- Okay, sir,
that's the second time
you've called me a "bitch"
in the past two minutes.
I really don't appreciate
being spoken to like this.
- Oh, you really
don't appreciate
being spoken to like this?
That's a little rich
coming from you.
Do you think that I-- Do you
think that Javier appreciates
all of the abuse that you
and your little hormone-filled
boy-toys have heaped on
him this entire time?
- Mr. Arda, stop this.
I'm fine.
- You are not fine!
You aren't!
I see it.
I-- I-- I see everything.
I see the bullying,
the abuse, the harassment.
And it is not acceptable!
- What's going on?
- There's a murderer!
- What?
- I'm sorry.
We thought it was you.
- Are you serious?
- We have to go find Javier.
Come on!
- Bianca!
- You'll be disciplined
for your behavior.
I know what
you're going through, Javi.
'Cause I went through it, too.
It got so bad, I didn't
think I had any other choice.
- Mr. Arda, please.
- So I tried to end it myself,
but I couldn't even
do that right.
I was such a fuck-up.
But what have I always
tried to teach you, Javi?
In the moments
of your greatest failure,
you'll find
your greatest discovery.
And in that moment,
I'd realize something important.
It's not us that should be
driven to the depths of despair
by their cruelty.
So if I want to end it,
I have to end them.
- No. No. Look at me.
Look at me.
You have to calm down.
Why does everybody keep on
telling me to calm down?
You, Phil.
- Phil Casey?
- All these student athletes
think they're God's gift.
They really think they're
gonna make it to the majors?
They have no idea what it's like
out there in the real world.
Entitled little shits.
What they really are is animals.
- You killed Phil.
- And Trevor.
And Brad.
- No.
- Yes.
God, am I glad.
Finally, you little fuckheads
are getting what you deserve.
It doesn't matter who you are.
There's no privilege here.
Or bureaucracy to hide behind.
Valedictorian,
star athlete, rich parent.
It doesn't matter
who the fuck you are.
If you behave like an animal,
you get put down like an animal.
- Mr. Arda,
you don't have to do this.
- Yes, Javier. I do.
My entire high school career,
fuckheads like Ginny, and Brad,
and Trevor made my
life a living hell.
And all the years since,
nothing has changed.
I see the same thing over,
and over, and over again.
But now, we don't have to
put up with their shit, Javi.
Now we can
stand up for ourselves.
- Hey, Moby Dick!
- Javier!
Fucking theater geeks.
- Damn it!
Hey! Motherfucker! God!
- Oh, oh shit, God, fuck.
Fuck.
William, William.
Look, hey, hey, okay?
Sorry, I think you need
to apply pressure, okay.
- Javier.
- I know, I know.
- And Ginny.
- I know.
- You have to help them.
- Here. Here.
Here, call for help, okay?
Okay, I'll be right back.
Fuck, I shouldn't
have said that.
Fuck, fuck.
God, if I die, trying
to save Ginny-fucking-Macher.
I'll kill her.
- 911, what's your emergency?
- Help, help! Help!
Oh my God! Help!
Oh my God
Let go of me!
Oh my God!
- You think you're so much
better than anyone else
with your money
and your grades.
You think you can treat
everyone else like trash.
Well, not anymore, Ginny.
- Mr. Arda.
Please.
If you've ever
cared about me--
- Javier!
- Stop this now.
- Javier,
I'm doing this for you.
- Javier! Javi, Javier!
- Will you shut up!
I mean, they-- they put you
in the hospital, Javier.
And they gotta pay for that.
And once they finally get what
they deserve and they're gone,
that'll clear the way for
you to be valedictorian.
- I don't want--
I don't want that.
- This is our chance, Javier.
Please, help me.
Come on, man.
I've helped so many kids.
Just somebody help me once?
- Do you hear yourself?
- It's all for you, Javier.
All of it.
- No. No!
You're not doing this for me.
You're doing this for yourself.
Maybe you and I
weren't so different once.
But these aren't the
same people who hurt you.
- Come on.
Yeah.
They're all the same.
- William, are you still there?
- Ginny, now!
- I'll show you a bitch,
asshole!
- Hold on.
Help is on the way.
- Better safe than sorry.
- Wait!
Don't kill him. Just--
Just wait.
- Oh, today's
your lucky day, asshole.
- Hey, can-- can you hold on
just one sec, please?
Thank you.
Hi.
Um, listen, I just--
I just want to say
that I'm sorry.
I thought you were a murderer.
Yeah.
What's the matter?
- Check it out.
Officially graduation.
Congrats.
We made it.
- You too.
- Who would-a thunk?
- I'm gonna need
so much therapy.
- Yeah.
That's high school for you.
- I was talking about
the whole murder thing.
He was just like me, you know?
- Yeah.
- And all of this he did it,
because of me.
- No, no, Javier,
he was a fucking bat-shit--
- What if I end up like him,
Bianca?
Just-- just totally
twisted and-- and crazy.
- That's not gonna happen.
- How do you know?
- Because, stupid,
you've got me.
- Yeah, I do.
- What?
- Man, fuck this place.
- Thank God, that's over.
For real, dude, oh my God.
- How's that for you, Freddie?
You fucking pussy!
- Scream, ha.
This is what you get for
costing us the Championship
my senior year.
A winning record, ruined by
Freddie the Fucking Spaz!
What a fucking loser.
Whoa, calm down!
Help!
Help me!
Help!
- Wanna make yourself useful
and help me study?
- Whoa, slow down buddy!
- Sorry, sorry, Mr. Arda!
- Oh my God, does
that mean you're done?
Please, please, God, tell me it
means that you're done.
- Oh my God, chill.
- Shit, I almost
went four years
without ever stepping
foot in this place.
- You've never been
to the computer lab?
- No.
- Seriously?
- It's nothing,
but a fucking library
without the whimsy.
- 'Cause books are
so whimsical.
- Yes, they are.
- Well, I'm sorry to
tarnish your perfect record,
but Dennis refuses to
cover any more sporting events
and Mr. Arda needs me to
proof these pics
from the last baseball game
for the paper.
- Refuses?
There's one dead body
and the pussy can't do his job.
Pathetic.
- Bianca, come on.
- Javier, come on, please.
Or I'm going to
slit my wrist, like--
- Dude, don't joke like that.
- Okay, whatever.
Do you have
what you need or not?
- Uh...
Yeah.
- Then what the fuck
are we still doing here?
It's Friday.
School day is over.
Okay, and as a senior,
it is literally causing me like
physical pain to
still be in this building
after the final bell.
- Oh, well, you
should have said that earlier.
- Yeah.
- Come on, sweetie,
I don't want you to get hurt.
- Finally. You know, I was
getting ready to leave your ass.
- Oh, you love taking me home.
- Okay, home, sure why not.
Picking you up in the morning?
No. It's gotta stop.
Mm-mm.
- Alright, thank you.
- I mean you're welcome,
but don't get used to it.
I love you to bits,
but I refuse to miss out on
the 15 minutes of sleep it takes
to pick your ass up
before school.
- I'd hate for you to
miss out on
15 whole minutes
of beauty sleep.
- Yeah, that's why
you're my best friend.
You fucking get it.
- Besides, walking is good
for heart health anyway.
- Plus, beats being
a senior riding the bus.
Talk about pathetic.
- Hey, look at this twat.
Hey, buy a car, homo!
- You can't even hit me?
You're a fucking pitcher.
- Little fucker,
I could hit him if I wanted.
- Hey! Give that back!
- I'm sure you'd love
for me to give it to you.
Ooh! Ooh, ooh.
- Alright.
- Seriously,
what are we in middle school?
- J-- Come on, dude.
- Hey!
Oh!
Not so handsy, huh?
What are you...
Oh.
Oops.
- Dick.
- Those guys are such assholes.
- Fucking assholes.
God, I wish.
- Wait, what do you wish?
- I don't know.
- Mm-hm, yeah you wish,
that all those fucking assholes
would die horrifically,
gruesome deaths
via telekinetic vengeance?
- You watch too many movies.
- Oh, maybe.
Hey, but at least in Carrie,
all the high-school assholes
get what they deserve, right?
- Yeah, if only life
were more like the movies.
- Hmm. Yeah, yeah. If only.
Oh, man. Coming.
- Come on, guys!
I know it's
the last week of class,
and everyone's really excited,
but this is your final chance to
discuss your year end papers.
Due Thursday.
Worth half your grade.
Anybody?
Does anybody have anything?
Bueller? Bueller?
Yes, Ginny.
- Well, I feel
like I'm in pretty good shape,
but I suppose I--
- Of course, you do.
- Excuse me?
- Oh, sorry,
uh, I was just saying that
I'm really excited for you to
share what's sure to be
a staggeringly brilliant
literary analysis.
- Javier, please.
Ginny, go ahead?
- Well, I'm writing
on how Melville's portrayal
of an isolated,
exclusively male environment
acts as a study on the
problematic nature
of traditional patriarchal
societal structures.
- Basic.
- Okay, what was that?
- Oh, nothing just...
Basic.
Oh, I have like
a frog in my throat.
- No, he's calling you basic.
- Basic?
So what's your paper on?
- I'm analyzing
the homo-erotic undertones
in Melville's portrayal of
inter-male relationships.
- Well, hey,
oh man, what's the old saying?
"Write what you know."
- In that case shouldn't
your paper be on Starbuck?
- What?
- Now he's calling you basic.
- You know, Starbuck.
Like-- like the character.
From the book?
- Thank God.
Alright,
papers are due Thursday.
No extensions.
I don't care what the reason is.
Thursday. Alright?
Uh, Javier, can you stick around
a sec after class?
- Hey.
I'm-- I'm sorry, Mr. Arda,
she just like,
she triggers me.
- Wouldn't let her get to you.
Year's almost over.
I was actually hoping the photos
from Saturday's game were ready.
- Oh, yeah, yeah, totally.
- Okay, great!
Bring them by after class.
I'll be here.
- Cool.
- Oh, and Javier?
- Yeah?
- Anybody's ever bullying you
or anything?
- Oh, I'm fine.
Really.
I'm g-- I'm all good.
- Okay, if you say so.
- Thank you.
- Okay, go off,
go long, go long, go long!
- Guys!
- I am so sorry Mr. Arda.
- Put me out of
my misery if I ever end up as
a high school English teacher.
- You got it, babe.
- Hey.
- Hey.
- Sorry for the lame
Starbucks joke back there.
- Oh, no,
no apologies necessary.
I'll take all the
support I can get.
- Your-- your paper,
it seems really
like interesting.
- Really?
- Yeah.
- Oh, thanks.
- Yeah, I mean,
if you like wanted a second
pair of eyes for--
for feedback or whatever.
- Yeah.
- We could hang sometime.
- Yeah.
- Cool.
- Cool, no,
that sounds-- that sounds cool.
- Sweet.
- Sweet.
- See you.
- Yeah, I'll-- I'll see you.
We can meet at Starbucks.
- Yeah.
- Whoa.
You'll never guess
what happened after class.
- You gave Mr. Arda a hand job.
- No, what?
- Mr. Arda gave you a hand job?
- No, gross.
- Oh, a blowie?
- Will you stop it?
- Oh, Javier,
okay, no, no, no, okay,
what's up, what's up,
what happened?
- I think William asked me out.
- Hey, no way.
William, William?
Like cute little
trumpet William?
- Yes.
- He of the ambiguous sexuality?
- Well,
slightly less ambiguous now.
- Yeah.
- But, yeah.
- Okay.
Okay, this is awesome.
I mean, you had your
eye on the dude
since he transferred here
like last semester.
- That is not true.
Okay, well, maybe just a little.
- Yeah, a little, uh-huh.
Come on, this is awesome.
This is your big chance.
Nothing more pathetic than
an 18-year-old virgin.
- Right.
- God,
Javier is such a tool.
You know, it's like he thinks
that just because
he's this gay Mexican,
he has the monopoly
on all valid perspectives
of theoretical criticism.
- About English again?
- Yes,
it's about
AP-fucking-English, Trevor.
It's like here I am, busting
my ass to be valedictorian,
oh, and up comes Javier,
affirmative action-ing his way
to all my scholarship money.
- Dude does have a 4.0.
- And your mom is loaded,
it's not like
you need the scholarships.
- Not the fucking point,
Trevor.
Hey, you know what?
Give me your phone, Trev.
- Why?
- I've got an idea.
- Yeah, take again,
take another hit.
Ooh, see, it's not working,
'cause you blow it like.
- Well,
I don't know how to do it.
Just I don't know how to vape.
- Big cloud, big cloud.
That was so small, but--
I fucking hit it.
What the fuck does he
mean by peer review?
- I don't know.
What do-- what do I respond?
- Easy, just be like,
"Ooh yeah, baby,
I want to suck that D."
- Why do I ever think
you're actually gonna help?
Okay, what about uh,
"Sure, I have to meet
Mr. Arda after school,
but right after that, library?"
- Mm-hmm, peer review.
I've never heard
these gay words.
- How's that for homo-erotic
undertones?
- Idiot.
- Wow, these are really great.
- Thanks.
- You've got a real eye,
you know that?
Think you're gonna stick with
photography at Northwestern?
- I think so.
Yeah, hopefully, I can
get on staff at the Daily.
- That'd be awesome.
I know you're gonna kill it.
So uh, you must be really glad
to be getting out of here, huh?
- Uh, I guess, yeah.
- Who we kidding?
High school can
really suck sometimes,
especially if you--
you don't quite fit in.
You know, you really remind me
of myself when I was your age.
- I do?
- Yeah.
I mean, you've got great
taste in music, for starters.
- What? You like Los Bunkers?
- You kidding me?
Vida de Perros came out when
I was in high school myself.
- Get out.
- I swear.
- I fucking love Vida de Perros.
I-- oh, man, most English
teachers don't know their
Chilean all-rock groups.
- I'd like to think I'm not
like most English teachers.
I'm actually a cool
English teacher.
I mean, I'm-- I'm cool, right?
- Yeah, you're, yeah.
- The kids think I'm cool?
- The-- yeah.
I don't know, but I wouldn't
trust what they think.
I think you're the
coolest teacher I've had.
- I'm kidding with you.
- Alright.
Oh, I'm gonna go.
- Yeah, no, absolutely.
These were great.
Thank you so much for these.
- Yeah, of course.
- Yeah.
- Thank you.
- Thank you.
Absolutely, Javier.
- See you tomorrow, Mr. Arda.
- Perfect.
- What's that?
- Oh, I swung by the
coffee shop on my free period,
ordered a pumpkin spice latte.
I'll teach you to call me
"basic", dickhead.
- You're not seriously
gonna throw coffee
on the guy, are you?
- Lighten up, man.
It's not even hot anymore.
- Shh, back up. Here he comes.
Okay, go.
- Hey.
- William?
- You wish, asshole.
- What the fuck?
You guys can't leave
me alone for an hour?
- Who's basic now?
- Uh, still you, bitch.
- Watch it, cock breath.
- What exactly
was the point of this mess?
- Oh, I don't know.
Just expounding on your thesis.
If Melville was analyzing
the homo-erotic undertones
of inter-male relationships,
your pathetic excuse for
a life is-- is what?
Um, a study in
the homo-erotic overtones
of the sadly
solitary male singular?
Do you know how pathetic
you look leaping at the
first chance you got to fool
around with that band geek?
- You think
you're so fucking smart?
- Mm. And you think you're
so fucking special.
- Do you have anything to add?
- Why would he?
- Shut up, Javier.
- He didn't tell you?
I thought you guys
were best friends.
- I said shut up, Javier.
- Well, uh, let me clue you in.
While you two, best bud,
teammate, whatever the fucks,
were off having your
no-homo bro time,
Brad here was in fact
analyzing some undertones
himself, so to speak.
With me.
- Brad!
- No fucking way.
- I said shut up!
- Hey, what?
No, come here.
- Get off me!
Oh my God!
Are you guys fucking serious?
Your pathetic
excuse for a life.
- Buy a car, homo!
- Yeah, but at least
in Carrie all the high school
assholes get what they deserve.
- Anybody's ever bullied you?
- If only life were
more like the movies.
- Go, go, go,
let's go, let's go, let's go.
- Where am I?
- Oh shit.
Javier, you're awake.
- Mr. Arda?
- Okay, don't try to--
don't try to move.
The nurse will be
back here in a minute.
- What?
What? What happened?
- We were actually hoping
that you'd be able
to tell us that.
Officer Stevens just left,
but if--
- The police were here?
- Yeah, I-- I called the cops
after I found you.
You were at-- at the bottom
of the stairs unconscious.
I just left my class.
- Yeah, to meet--
- To meet who, Javier?
Okay, no, no, no, just relax.
- I'm fine.
No, no, I'm not.
- Who did this to you, Javier?
- Nobody.
I-- I just fell.
I slipped.
Seriously, I just--
I fell down the stairs
when I was rushing to leave.
Idiot, right?
- Hello, Mr. Campos.
Oh, hello.
- Oh, uh, well,
give you guys some privacy.
- Javier, um,
hope to see you back
in class tomorrow.
I'm just glad you're okay.
- Thanks, Mr. Arda.
- So, Javier,
how are we feeling tonight?
- Oh,
well, I don't know about you.
Personally, I feel--
I feel like shit.
You know?
Turns out, falling down the
stairs is not a great time.
- Mm, yeah, well,
you have to be careful.
Stairs can be tricky.
- Telling me.
- Now, you are
a very lucky young man.
- Lucky?
What, are you kidding me?
- Well, you did fall down
a flight of stairs
and you barely have
a scratch on you, so yeah.
I'd say you're pretty lucky.
You know,
if you'd have landed in even
a slightly different angle...
- What the fuck?
- I'm sorry.
- The hell was that?
- Did I hurt you?
- Uh, no, I'm fine.
Uh, sorry.
- Are-- are you sure?
- Yeah, I just--
I really want to get
the fuck out of here.
- Okay, well, your father's
filling out your paperwork,
so that he can take you home.
- Okay.
- Overall,
everything is looking fine.
You're just going to need to
keep that neck brace on
for the next day or two.
- What? For real?
- Yeah.
Look, in the meantime,
how about I make you
a little bit more comfortable?
Yeah?
Okay.
I'm not gonna bite.
- Okay.
That's pretty.
- This? Thanks.
It was a gift from
my grandfather.
He passed away not too long ago,
but I like to wear it,
'cause it keeps him close.
- Sorry for your loss.
Shit.
I'm losing it.
- Hey, mijo. How you doing?
- I'm fine. Totally fine.
Why?
- I just wanted to make sure
you weren't in too much pain.
- Oh. Yeah.
No, I'm good.
- If you're sure.
I should head to work.
And you should get going, too.
You don't want to miss the bus.
- Fuck the bu--
Pa, come on. Not again.
- Sorry, mijo.
Doctor said walking to
school, too much exertion.
Plus, look at the time.
- You can't send me on the bus.
Pa, I-- I almost died.
- You said you were fine
two seconds ago.
- Well, it's too late
for me to call Bianca.
I mean, we barely make it to
first period on time
when she knows she's
picking me up in advance.
- Hence, bus.
- Wait.
- I'm sorry, Javi.
I'd love to drive you to school.
I would.
But unlike high school students,
college professors need to
be on time to their classes.
- No, it's not that.
It's just, um...
We don't have like, um--
- Any day now, mijo.
- Do we have a history of
mental illness in the family?
- Uh, no.
Not that I can think of.
But not unless you count Ta
Lupe, she was always a little--
She used to claim
she had psychic powers.
- Psychic powers?
- Yeah, but you know
how it is with la gente?
Nobody talks about
those kinds of things.
Mental health.
It's always.
Well, have a good day, mijo.
- Oh shit,
what the fuck happened to you?
- Dude, something seriously
fucked up is going on.
- Wait, I get it.
You got a little
over excited last night just--
- I got pushed down
the fucking stairs.
- What?
- That text wasn't from William.
- Hey.
Nice neck brace.
Ow.
- I'm gonna fucking kill them.
- No.
- No?
What the fuck do you mean no?
Aren't you furious?
- Of course, I am.
But I'm also just
freaking the fuck out.
- Javier?
Can we talk for a minute?
- Ow. What the fuck?
- What the fuck?
What the fuck?
You already know what
the fuck is, you asshole.
- Bianca.
- You know what, come here.
Come here, so I can punch you
in the fucking face again.
Don't walk away from me,
you fucking cock jock bitch.
- Bianca, B,
just--
just give us a sec, okay?
No, I-- I'll be,
just-- just a sec, okay?
- Alright.
You know what, Brad?
I'ma be right over there.
Give me an excuse, any reason.
Please, I'd love to
come back over here
and have you eat some more
of my rings, you bitch.
Got you, Javi.
- What do you want, Brad?
- I wanted to say I'm sorry.
- You're sorry?
- Yeah.
I-- I tried to,
I came to your room--
- I know. I saw you.
- I went to the bathroom,
by the time I came back,
the nurse said you were gone.
- Yeah.
Just wanted to go home.
- Listen, Javier.
I know things between us
have been complicated.
- Brad--
- It's not that I don't,
I just-- I just can't.
Javier, I'm not like you.
- You're not like me?
What? Mexican?
Yeah. Uh, I think I knew.
Gay?
Brad, I know you better than
anyone else at this school
and I'm pretty damn sure--
- I'm not brave like you.
I don't know if I'm...
what I am.
I'm still figuring things out.
- Yeah. Yeah.
No, I get that.
- And about what
happened yesterday.
Obviously, I'm so sorry--
- Are you fucking kidding me?
- I never meant to--
- Oh, to push me down
a stairwell?
Oh, well, if he
didn't mean it, guys.
Right?
Glad to hear it, man.
- I was gonna
give this to you last night.
I am sorry, you know?
- Yo, what the fuck, Javier?
What the fuck?
Javier, what the fuck?
- Shit.
- Yo, what the fuck, Javier?
- Hey, nice neck brace, asshole.
- Eat my ass, Peter!
- Ow, dick.
- Mental health day.
Mental health day.
Like, are you sure?
Like, for sure? For sure?
- No, I don't-- I don't know.
I mean, like--
Listen, I know things that I--
I couldn't possibly know.
- Ooh. Like what?
- Well,
you paint in the nude for one.
- Oh, yeah. I do.
What, I never told
you that before?
- No!
- Hmm.
- I saw it.
- Okay, but like,
it first happened
when the nurse touched you.
- Yeah, and then when
I touched your painting.
- Ooh, which one?
- The one of us.
- Oh, I like that one.
- Focus, Basquiat.
And then when
I touched Brad's teddy bear.
- Okay, but like
is there a rhyme or a reason
to these visions?
Like is this gonna--
- Stop that.
Oh, cut that shit out right now.
No, not that I can tell.
I mean--
I can't control them.
That I know for sure.
- But they're
triggered by touch.
Of either like a person
or a thing.
- Yeah, they have been so far.
They're practically
random otherwise.
- I'ma get my vision.
- I will fucking--
- You know,
I just can't believe--
- I know, it's just crazy.
- That you didn't
tell me about Brad.
- That's what you're hung up on?
- Yeah, yeah, like visions,
questioning your sanity,
whatever.
Like blah, blah, blah.
You have been fucking Brad--
- That's not the point, B!
I mean, when I-- when I
touched the-- I saw-- I th--
I think Brad had killed himself.
- Maybe.
- That's all you have to say?
- Okay,
what do you want me to say?
- I don't know.
This conversation isn't exactly
going how I expected it to go.
- Hm. No?
- No! B, I'm freaking out!
Like yesterday, I practically
bashed my brains in
fallen down the fucking stairs.
And then I started
having hallucinations
or visions or some shit,
and you're just
like, you know, "whatevs."
Like, you're hung up on the fact
that Brad and I
are sleeping together.
I'm telling you,
he might kill himself.
- What? I don't not care
that Brad might kill himself.
- Meanwhile, I'm terrified
that I'm just gonna end up
like my crazy Ta Lupe.
- What happened to Ta Lupe?
- Nothing. She died
of old age in like 1999,
but everyone thought
she was nuts.
- Okay, well,
first of all, you are not nuts.
Okay, this kind of shit
happens like all the time.
- All the time?
- Okay, maybe not all the time,
but it happens.
Haven't you ever
seen The Dead Zone?
- No.
- Okay, it's fine.
Book's better.
What about The Witching Hour?
- No.
- Charmed?
- No.
- Rose Red?
- No! B, focus!
- It's called "psychometry".
It's not an unheard of ability.
You touch people or things
and then have visions
about the past or future
of that person or--
- Wait, psychometry? What?
How do you know--
How do you know about this?
- Doesn't matter.
The point is,
the weirdest thing that's
happening with all of this
is that all this time,
you've been schtupping Brad
and didn't have the decency
to tell me, your best friend,
you fucking dick.
I mean, I told you about
when I lost my V-card
to Sean Freeman at summer camp.
And then when I made out with
Katherine Ryder at that--
I don't know what--
- I know, I know. Okay.
Hey, you're--
I'm sorry, alright.
I've-- I've--
I've been tweaking.
- I get it.
I do.
Don't let that shit
happen again, okay?
- I won't. I promise.
- What?
- Nothing.
So will you help me?
- Right, okay.
Uh, for starters, these uh--
these visions.
If we're gonna move forward
under the assumption that
these visions are real,
which you know,
I'm inclined to do,
we've got to figure out what
exactly you're dealing with.
- So far, the Internet's
only marginally helpful.
- Well, are the visions
of the past or the future?
- Both.
The one with the nurse,
I mean, definitely
seemed to be the past, but--
The one about Brad--
- Oh, I've got nothing.
- What?!
- What, what?
Oh, did you-- did you want me
to write you a prescription?
I'm not a doctor.
Barely passed in AP Chem.
- You sure as hell
act like an expert.
- I have a natural confidence.
Don't hate on
my air of authority.
- I just feel like everything's
spiraling out of control.
- Mm. Well, the idea that there
was any control to begin with is
a fucking illusion.
There's only one
thing in the universe
we have even the
tiniest bit of control over.
- What's that?
- Ourselves.
Our choices.
- Comforting.
- I kind of think so.
It's okay. It means
we've got a decision to make.
- What decision?
- Well, do you want to let
your down-low boy-toy pull
a dingle-dangle
in the locker room,
or are you gonna do
something about it?
- Bianca.
- What?
Like just yesterday you were
wishing gruesome deaths
on those assholes,
Brad included.
And that was before they
pushed you down the stairs.
- Nice, nice, nice, nice, nice.
- Thanks, man.
- It's good.
Dude.
- Dude.
- You're still
my best bro and all.
But is it cool if you like
just hold off for a sec?
- What--
what do you mean?
- The shower.
- You're not serious.
- I'm sorry, dude,
but now that you're a homo,
I can't just let you peep
at our collective junk.
- You kidding me?
- Dude, I'm captain.
I have to watch
out for the team.
- Fuck you, man!
- It doesn't matter, okay?
We have to do something.
- Agreed.
Time to make a move.
- Like?
- Oh, I don't know,
Mr. Not-So-Valedictorian.
Maybe go talk Brad out of
fucking killing himself.
You're such an idiot sometimes,
you know that?
That's way harsh, B.
- All yours, man.
- Thanks for the consideration.
- Hello?
Trevor, is that you?
- Let's go.
- Coming. Shit.
- Trevor?
- Trevor? Where's Brad?
- Why the fuck do you care?
- Listen, fuck-face,
it's an emergency.
- What are you doing?
- It's locked.
- What do you mean it's locked?
- Did everyone leave?
- When did this ever locked?
Brad! Open the door!
- Brad!
- Brad!
- Brad!
- Brad, open the door!
- Brad!
- Brad!
You don't have to do this!
Come on, let's call the police.
- No.
- I was too late.
- It's not your fault.
- I couldn't stop him.
- Javier.
- If only I'd talked to him.
If only I just
really talked to him.
If only I hadn't outed him
in front of Ginny and Trevor.
Fuck!
- I was giving him shit.
I shouldn't have,
'cause he was my friend.
But I was giving him shit for,
you know, for being gay.
I didn't mean for him...
He's my best friend.
- I gotta get out of here.
- Yeah, yeah,
I'll drop you home.
- You know, um,
as your teacher, I'm--
I'm expected to stand up here
and have all of the
answers to everything.
But-- but you're
old enough now to know
that there are certain things
for which there
really aren't any answers.
Teen suicide.
Death.
The loss of life.
It's always tragic.
And even more so when that--
that life was
so certain to be full of--
And the thing that we all have
to come to terms with here
is that Brad was
struggling with something that--
that-- that we had
no awareness of.
Yet I know that Brad and Phil,
who left us
earlier this year as well,
would have
wanted us to carry on.
Graduation Day is this Friday
and we have to
remember to celebrate
the legacies of guys
like Brad Warren, Phil Casey,
the impact they've left us with.
It will never be forgotten,
but their spirit
lives on with us.
As Melville writes,
"It is only when caught in the
swift, sudden turn of death,
that mortals realize
the silent, subtle,
ever-present perils of life."
- What?
- Attention, departing seniors.
After much consideration,
the faculty has decided
to proceed as planned
with this Thursday night's
Farewell Lock-In.
- Yes.
- Also, the counseling staff is
available throughout the day
for all of your emotional needs.
Thank you.
That is all.
- Well, then.
- It's bullshit.
Isn't it fucked up?
I mean, Brad literally
just killed himself.
Like at least
when Phil killed himself,
we canceled
last week's pep rally.
- I mean, it is fucked up.
It's also not your fault.
You know that, right?
- I do.
- Do you?
I mean, it's okay to be sad.
Your boyfriend just died.
- Okay,
well, he wasn't my boyfriend.
- I know,
but saying you're a fuck buddy
just sounds
really disrespectful.
- Yeah, it does.
- Look, I'm just saying
you can feel your feelings,
but you got other things to
worry about right now.
- Batter's out! Strike three!
- Did you hear me?
Shit.
- He's trying to apologize.
- I said I was sorry.
- Right.
- Brad was my best friend.
- I-- I know.
I know how close you guys were.
- You guys were like--
partners or whatever?
- Well, wait. Partners?
- Maybe if I had known.
Or if I had more time.
I was such a dick!
- And asshole, even.
- You're not helping.
- Things that I said to him.
- Hey.
Whoa, whoa, hey!
Come on, man.
You were just trying to
watch out for the team.
- What did you just say?
- What?
- About the team.
- I--
I don't-- I don't know.
- You couldn't. But you did.
You couldn't know, but you did.
- Let's go, Javier.
- You knew Brad
was gonna do something!
That's why you were
there after practice!
How did you know?
- Yo, weren't you just
apologizing for being a dick?
- Come on, Trev.
- Another one?
- Yeah.
- What'd you see?
- Brad.
I think Trevor really loved him.
- I saw a porno like that once.
- What the fuck, B?
- I'm sorry,
I'm just really bad at this like
emotional sensitivity shit.
- No shit.
Fuck!
Fuck.
- Hey.
Look, I know you're like
really sad and angry right now,
but don't let your anger
get the best of you, okay.
Here comes Billy Boy.
- Hey.
- Hey.
- Hey.
Oh.
Uh, girl, what was that?
Yeah, I'll walk with you.
Over there.
Sorry, y'all, I gotta go.
I just-- I'll be over
here walking with her.
Somewhere.
You know what?
I'll just be over here.
- So, um, I--
I wanted to say sorry.
About Brad, I mean.
- You did?
- Yeah.
My condolences.
- Thanks.
I mean, we weren't--
We're--
I don't know what we were.
It was complicated.
I didn't exactly know
that our complications
were common knowledge, though.
- Right.
No, I-- I mean,
I didn't want to
assume anything,
but you definitely seem sad.
Like particularly sad about it.
- Yeah. Uh...
I guess I am.
- I mean, people seem to have
really liked him and all,
but, hell,
you look around,
people seem more
concerned with graduation
and the lock-in and the fact
that two guys died this year.
- Yes! It's fucked up!
With Phil,
the whole school shut down!
Like we had a four-day weekend.
- They canceled
the pep rally and everything.
- Exactly! And Brad
doesn't even get a half-day?
What the fuck?
It's like we used up
all our grief points.
What?
- Sorry.
I-- I didn't mean to laugh.
- No, it's-- it's cool.
- I know you're probably
going through a lot.
- You have no idea.
- Huh?
- Nothing.
- I was just gonna say,
I'd like to be there for you.
If like you needed to
talk or whatever.
- Yeah?
- Yeah,
I've been watching you.
- What?
- I mean, just that like,
I've seen you around.
You seem like a really cool guy.
I'd really like to
get to know you better.
- Oh, uh.
- Idiot!
- I'm so sorry.
- Oh, of course.
Sorry.
You must still be hurting.
- My neck, the neck brace.
My neck.
- Yeah.
- Yeah, yeah, I am.
I'm still hurting.
It's just,
it's all tender up in here.
Right there.
- Anyway, I'm officially
super late for physics.
I spent all night
studying simple machines.
Talk soon?
- Definitely.
What a weird fucking day.
- Wait.
- What?
- I can't.
- Can't what? Go to Trig?
- Yeah.
- Seriously?
- I just have to
get out of here.
I'm gonna cut the
rest of the day.
- Are you sure?
What about your attendance?
- We're seniors.
It's our last week of classes
and my best friend just died.
I'm sure they'll understand.
- Where are you going?
- Come on, Ginny.
It's the farthest
thing from my mind.
- Here.
Take my car.
See you after.
- Thanks, babe.
Yeah, I just need to
not be here right now.
- I get it.
- What about Ginny?
- What about who?
- Oh.
- How much class do you think
we've actually attended
these past four years?
- Enough.
- You think?
- You're practically
valedictorian whether
Ginny Macher likes it or not
and I am doing more than fine.
Thank you very much.
Who gives a fuck
if we miss a few classes?
- Reduce, reuse,
recycle, asshole.
- Another one?
What is it?
- Trevor.
- Murder?
- What I said.
- Fuck, dude!
- Yeah.
- I mean, if anyone's gonna die,
though like--
- Bianca!
- What? Trevor is such
an asshole.
- Yeah.
- No, he made your life
in high school a living hell.
- We can't just let him die.
- Actually, we could.
- Bianca!
- I'm sorry,
I'm driving, aren't I?
I'm just saying.
- Come on, come on.
Where is this guy?
- Wait, I remember something.
- Well?
- I--
I've seen the place before.
- Details, bitch.
- In-- in--
in my vision,
Trevor, Brad, and Ginny were
parked overlooking the sunset.
It's the same place.
It's gotta be.
- You've reached
Brad Warren,
but I can't answer
the phone right now.
Uh, please leave a message
and I'll get back to you
whenever I can.
- Hey, man.
I know you'll never get this.
But I guess I just wanted
to hear your voice.
And I wanted to tell you,
I'm sorry.
I'm really sorry.
And I can't believe you're gone.
And I'm really gonna
miss you, Brad.
I'm really gonna miss you.
- Where you going?
- If there's only
one place in town
high up enough to
see everything,
one place where
all the dipshits go
after their pep rallies
and shit.
- The parking structure
by the old library!
Let's go!
Floor it! Floor it!
- Shit!
- Keep driving.
- Roger that.
You okay, buddy?
That's gross.
- Someone's doing this, Bianca.
Someone's killing our friends.
- Do we really
call those guys our friends?
- Bianca!
- Shit, sorry.
- I mean,
we're talking about murder.
Like, we're actually really
talking about murder.
- The news outlets are
already reporting it as--
- A suicide? As if!
Who the hell just walks off the
edge of a parking structure?
- People who want to
commit suicide.
Hey, are you sure you saw
what you think you did?
- Positive.
- Shit.
- What the hell
are we gonna do?
- Okay, well,
we can't go to the cops.
- Obviously.
- At least, not without
any like hard evidence.
- Which would consist of what?
- I have no fucking clue!
- Great.
- Hey, but we do have
a shit ton of soft evidence.
- What the hell
is soft evidence?
- Dude, okay,
thanks to the universe or God
or the statistics
of brain damage.
Fuck it, thanks to
your crazy Ta Lupe,
you're having these visions,
right?
We can use them to
figure out who's fucking
playing Billy Loomis here.
We can--
we can backtrack from there,
gather any actual
evidence we need,
and then, wham-o, stick the cops
on this sick fucker!
Shit, that hurt, bro.
- So, who can get to him
before it's too late?
- Him.
Or her.
- What about Ginny?
- What about who?
- Dude!
- I'm busy, man.
- Dude!
Ginny's out of her
student council meeting.
Tish said they finished early.
- Shit. You gotta go.
- What?
- Get out of here!
- Asshole.
- Thanks for the heads up.
- Hey, sweetheart.
How are you holding up?
- About as well
as can be expected.
- Listen,
I've been thinking about it
and I think
you should stay home.
For the rest of the week.
I can write you a note.
- I can't, Mom.
- Sure, you can.
- No, I can't.
I have responsibilities.
- I'm sure your
classmates will understand.
- It doesn't matter
if they understand or not.
I'm class president.
I'm valedictorian.
I'm in charge of
the Senior Lock-In.
- Ginny, calm down.
- You calm down, Deborah.
- Excuse me?
- Sorry, Mom.
I'm sorry.
- Listen, I know
this must be hard for you.
- I'd prefer
not to talk about it.
- Death is--
- I said, I don't want to
talk about it.
- Fine.
You can talk about
it on your own time.
With Dr. Rosenberg.
- Add it to the list.
- What?
- Nothing.
- I wish you would reconsider.
- I can't.
Nothing is turning out
like it was supposed to.
You know, this is the
end of our senior year.
It was supposed to be perfect.
- I know, baby.
- Happy Thursday,
Springhurst Barons!
- Happy Thursday?
- Over the past few days,
our school has faced
a series of tragic suicides.
The impact of which no one
feels more acutely than I do.
- Oh, acutely?
Putting that SAT vocab
to practice, I hear.
- But more than anything,
I know that Trevor Strode,
and Brad Warren
would want us to strive on.
To celebrate our achievements.
So, as is tradition here
at Springhurst High,
the night before graduation
is our Senior Lock-In!
And as your class president
and valedictorian,
it is my honor to
officially invite
all departing seniors to
join me this evening
to spend the night
in these hallowed halls
and bid farewell to what is
soon-to-be our alma mater.
- Wow.
- Seriously,
can you say heartless?
- She's not entirely heartless.
- Her boyfriend was just
murdered
and she's out here wishing
everybody a happy Thursday.
- I feel like it'd be weirder
if she was a weep-fest.
This is exactly how I'd expect
Miss Perfection to handle
anything more emotionally
trying than a statistics exam.
- I guess, totally in character,
but like too much in character.
Like she's trying way
too hard to be morbid.
Business as usual, carrying on.
Like she's covering
something up.
Her murderous sociopathy,
for instance.
- Ginny's a lot of things,
but do you really think that--
Do you really think
she's a murderer?
- I just--
I really don't see why not.
Everybody knows
Trevor was a dog.
Dude had half the cheerleading
team on a tight rotation
and who helped him keep it
under wraps for so long? Hmm?
Oh yes, that would be
his closeted bestie.
- Brad, I know,
I just--
I don't know,
I just really don't think--
- Don't think what?
- I don't--
I don't think that, um--
- That we're gonna go
to the Lock-In.
You know,
out of respect for the dead,
the dead who we've respected
so-- so much in this life.
- No?
It's a bummer.
It's gonna be fun.
- You're going?
- Yeah.
I was actually
hoping you were, too.
- Yeah.
- Yeah?
- Yeah.
- Okay, that's enough of that.
- Well, I mean
that I guess there's no reason
that we can't respect the dead
and go to the Senior Lock-In.
- Multitasking.
- Yeah.
- Sure, I like it.
- Cool.
I mean, I guess I'll
see you tonight then.
- Tonight?
Tonight.
- You guys are so gross.
- At least, I have options.
Oh, wait,
William, you dropped your--
- All departing seniors,
please remember to bring
your permission slip
to the gymnasium
- Shit.
to report to
this year's Lock-In.
- Yo, Javi, are you okay?
I had somehow convinced
Nurse Hernandez
not to contact your dad.
- Where are you?
- In the gym,
herding all the seniors in here
for like pizza and shit.
- It's William.
- What is?
- The killer. I saw it.
Bianca.
I thought he liked me.
- No, I'm sorry, Javi.
- He's after Ginny
and she's next.
- Are you sure?
- Yes, yes,
I saw it when I picked up
his copy of Moby Dick.
Okay, we have to find him
before he gets to her.
- I'm on it.
Meet me in the band room.
- The band room?
- The band room.
- Okay, I'm on my way.
And Bianca.
Just be careful.
- Where the fuck is he?
- Are you sure Javier
will actually be into
a trumpet serenade?
- Uh, yeah, no, he loves it.
He's like--
always like, you know,
if music be the fruit of love,
play on.
- Yeah? A regular Orsino, huh?
- Yeah.
Yeah, sure.
- I really like him, Bianca.
- Oh?
- And when I see the way people
at this school treat him,
it just makes me so angry.
- Angry, you say?
- Yes, very angry.
- Cool, yeah, cool.
How angry are we talking?
You know, on a scale of 1 to 10?
- Let's just say
I've let my anger
get the better of me before.
Like in my old school.
- Interesting.
- Maybe that's why
I was so eager
to have a fresh start here.
To meet new people who
didn't know that side of me.
- Mm-hmm.
- But to see
the way people like Trevor
and Ginny treat
a great guy like Javier,
just reminds me
that new school or not,
people are all the same.
Shitty.
But maybe a trumpet serenade
will take his mind off that.
- Ginny? Is that you?
- Who's that?
- It's me.
- Javier?
- A murderous
trumpet-playing Casanova.
People are so weird.
- Hey, listen, I know this
is gonna sound really weird,
but you're in danger
and we have to get out of here,
like right now.
- What the fuck
are you talking about?
- I'll explain it all later,
but right now we have to go.
For real.
- You're nuts.
- Bianca?
What the fuck?
Shit, my head.
- Sorry not sorry, Billy Loomis.
That's what happens
when you murder people.
- Please,
you just have to trust me.
- Okay, why should I?
- Murder people?
What the fuck are you--
Is this an extension cord?
- Yeah,
like where the fuck am I
supposed to find rope
in this place?
- Listen, just let me go.
We can talk this out.
- Oh, as if, Norman Bates.
Once Javier gets here,
we'll figure out how to prove
that you're the one behind
this mysterious rash
of tragic teenage suicides
and then
we'll let you go, alright?
Into the custody of
the police, murder boy.
- Because I'm trying
to help you.
- Okay, that's exactly
what doesn't make any sense.
- What?
- What reason have I ever
given you to want to help me?
- I don't know
what you're talking about.
- I'm talking about Brad
and Trevor.
I'm talking about Ginny.
- Ginny's dead?
- Not yet. She--
um, I mean just--
Shut up!
We are on to you.
Javier has your
copy of Moby Dick.
- What does that
have to do with this?
- I said shut up!
- No, what does
my copy of Moby Dick
have to do with anything?
I lost it halfway
through the semester.
- What?
- Yeah, I finished
reading it early, then lost it.
I had to borrow a copy
to finish my final paper.
- Borrow?
From who?
- Ginny, we can discuss
the magnitude
of your cuntiness later.
Right now we have to go.
- Okay,
get the fuck off me!
- He's here.
- Who is?
- We need to go. Right now.
- What the fuck is going on?
- Brad and Trevor
didn't kill themselves.
- You're fucking insane!
- No, they were murdered.
And if you don't listen to
me, you're gonna be next.
- Are you threatening me?
- For someone
who's supposedly so smart,
you really are a dumb bitch.
- No.
- Okay, Mr. Arda,
what's going on?
- A balancing of the scales.
- What?
- What are you talking about?
- No, no, no, no, no.
Mr. Arda, you're
supposed to be William.
- Excuse me?
- I-- I saw the book.
I saw it.
You-- It can't be you.
You were the only teacher
who-- You're so kind to me.
- Javier, it's okay.
You're confused. I get it.
Just try to relax. Breathe.
I'm gonna take
care of everything.
- Mr. Arda,
I don't understand.
- Of course, you don't.
Understanding, compassion,
human decency,
all outside of your depth.
You fucking bitch.
- Okay, sir,
that's the second time
you've called me a "bitch"
in the past two minutes.
I really don't appreciate
being spoken to like this.
- Oh, you really
don't appreciate
being spoken to like this?
That's a little rich
coming from you.
Do you think that I-- Do you
think that Javier appreciates
all of the abuse that you
and your little hormone-filled
boy-toys have heaped on
him this entire time?
- Mr. Arda, stop this.
I'm fine.
- You are not fine!
You aren't!
I see it.
I-- I-- I see everything.
I see the bullying,
the abuse, the harassment.
And it is not acceptable!
- What's going on?
- There's a murderer!
- What?
- I'm sorry.
We thought it was you.
- Are you serious?
- We have to go find Javier.
Come on!
- Bianca!
- You'll be disciplined
for your behavior.
I know what
you're going through, Javi.
'Cause I went through it, too.
It got so bad, I didn't
think I had any other choice.
- Mr. Arda, please.
- So I tried to end it myself,
but I couldn't even
do that right.
I was such a fuck-up.
But what have I always
tried to teach you, Javi?
In the moments
of your greatest failure,
you'll find
your greatest discovery.
And in that moment,
I'd realize something important.
It's not us that should be
driven to the depths of despair
by their cruelty.
So if I want to end it,
I have to end them.
- No. No. Look at me.
Look at me.
You have to calm down.
Why does everybody keep on
telling me to calm down?
You, Phil.
- Phil Casey?
- All these student athletes
think they're God's gift.
They really think they're
gonna make it to the majors?
They have no idea what it's like
out there in the real world.
Entitled little shits.
What they really are is animals.
- You killed Phil.
- And Trevor.
And Brad.
- No.
- Yes.
God, am I glad.
Finally, you little fuckheads
are getting what you deserve.
It doesn't matter who you are.
There's no privilege here.
Or bureaucracy to hide behind.
Valedictorian,
star athlete, rich parent.
It doesn't matter
who the fuck you are.
If you behave like an animal,
you get put down like an animal.
- Mr. Arda,
you don't have to do this.
- Yes, Javier. I do.
My entire high school career,
fuckheads like Ginny, and Brad,
and Trevor made my
life a living hell.
And all the years since,
nothing has changed.
I see the same thing over,
and over, and over again.
But now, we don't have to
put up with their shit, Javi.
Now we can
stand up for ourselves.
- Hey, Moby Dick!
- Javier!
Fucking theater geeks.
- Damn it!
Hey! Motherfucker! God!
- Oh, oh shit, God, fuck.
Fuck.
William, William.
Look, hey, hey, okay?
Sorry, I think you need
to apply pressure, okay.
- Javier.
- I know, I know.
- And Ginny.
- I know.
- You have to help them.
- Here. Here.
Here, call for help, okay?
Okay, I'll be right back.
Fuck, I shouldn't
have said that.
Fuck, fuck.
God, if I die, trying
to save Ginny-fucking-Macher.
I'll kill her.
- 911, what's your emergency?
- Help, help! Help!
Oh my God! Help!
Oh my God
Let go of me!
Oh my God!
- You think you're so much
better than anyone else
with your money
and your grades.
You think you can treat
everyone else like trash.
Well, not anymore, Ginny.
- Mr. Arda.
Please.
If you've ever
cared about me--
- Javier!
- Stop this now.
- Javier,
I'm doing this for you.
- Javier! Javi, Javier!
- Will you shut up!
I mean, they-- they put you
in the hospital, Javier.
And they gotta pay for that.
And once they finally get what
they deserve and they're gone,
that'll clear the way for
you to be valedictorian.
- I don't want--
I don't want that.
- This is our chance, Javier.
Please, help me.
Come on, man.
I've helped so many kids.
Just somebody help me once?
- Do you hear yourself?
- It's all for you, Javier.
All of it.
- No. No!
You're not doing this for me.
You're doing this for yourself.
Maybe you and I
weren't so different once.
But these aren't the
same people who hurt you.
- Come on.
Yeah.
They're all the same.
- William, are you still there?
- Ginny, now!
- I'll show you a bitch,
asshole!
- Hold on.
Help is on the way.
- Better safe than sorry.
- Wait!
Don't kill him. Just--
Just wait.
- Oh, today's
your lucky day, asshole.
- Hey, can-- can you hold on
just one sec, please?
Thank you.
Hi.
Um, listen, I just--
I just want to say
that I'm sorry.
I thought you were a murderer.
Yeah.
What's the matter?
- Check it out.
Officially graduation.
Congrats.
We made it.
- You too.
- Who would-a thunk?
- I'm gonna need
so much therapy.
- Yeah.
That's high school for you.
- I was talking about
the whole murder thing.
He was just like me, you know?
- Yeah.
- And all of this he did it,
because of me.
- No, no, Javier,
he was a fucking bat-shit--
- What if I end up like him,
Bianca?
Just-- just totally
twisted and-- and crazy.
- That's not gonna happen.
- How do you know?
- Because, stupid,
you've got me.
- Yeah, I do.
- What?
- Man, fuck this place.
- Thank God, that's over.
For real, dude, oh my God.