INTRO: THE BROKEN PROMISE
EXT. NEIGHBORHOOD STREET - DAY
The afternoon sun glints off JUNE'S polished SUV. She stands on the sidewalk, cradling a
shivering CHIHUAHUA she has just scooped up from a manicured lawn. Her friend, DIANE,
stands nearby, looking concerned.
DIANE Oh, June, thank goodness you found him! That's the Miller's dog—there are "Lost"
posters on every telephone pole from here to the high school. They must be devastated.
JUNE (Wearing a mask of pure, helpful concern) Oh, I know, Diane! It's just heartbreaking. Poor
little thing was wandering right near the curb. I can't imagine the anxiety they're feeling.
DIANE Are you going to drop him off at the local precinct? I think the police are already
coordinating the search.
JUNE (With a warm, reassuring smile) Absolutely. I'm heading that way right now to drop off
some dry cleaning anyway. I'll walk him right into the station myself and make sure he's
scanned for a chip. You can count on me, Diane. I'll make sure he gets home to the right family.
DIANE (Relieved) You're such a saint, June. Seriously, what would this neighborhood do
without you?
Diane waves and walks toward her own car. June maintains the bright, saintly smile, waving
back until Diane's car rounds the corner.
The moment the brake lights vanish, June's smile drops. She looks down at the dog, then up at
a "LOST DOG: CHICO" poster taped to a nearby lamp post. With a sharp, practiced motion, she
rips the poster down, crushes it into a ball, and tosses it into a nearby sewer grate.
JUNE (To the dog, her voice cold) You're far too chic for a house with a gravel driveway.
She marches toward the SUV where YOUNG REGINA is waiting.
ACT 1: THE STOLEN ACCESSORY (FLASHBACK)
EXT. NEIGHBORHOOD STREET - DAY
A young Regina stands by the car. June is holding a shivering CHIHUAHUA she just scooped
up from a "Lost Dog" poster area.
REGINA Mom, that's not our dog. There's a sign right there—his name is Chico.
JUNE (Snapping) His name is whatever I say it is, Regina. He matches my vintage Chanel bag
perfectly. Now, get in the car and stop being "difficult."
ACT 2: THE PRICE OF SILENCE
INT. THE GEORGES' SUV - MOMENTS LATER
The car door SLAMS shut. The interior is suffocatingly quiet, except for the frantic scratching of
the Chihuahua's claws against June's leather Chanel bag. June pulls into traffic, her grip on the
steering wheel elegant and lethal.
REGINA (Small, voice trembling) Mom, please... we have to go back. Stealing is a crime. If the
police find out, we'll get in trouble. You'll get in trouble!
June doesn't look at her. She adjusts the rearview mirror, but she isn't looking at the road—she's
checking her own eyeliner.
JUNE (Voice like ice) I didn't "steal" anything, Regina. I rescued an accessory from a life of
mediocrity. Do you think a dog like this belongs in a house with... chain-link fences?
REGINA But his family... they're looking for him. They put up posters. It's wrong!
June suddenly hits the power locks. CLICK. The sound echoes in the small space. She leans
over, her face inches from Regina's, her perfume smelling like expensive, wilted flowers.
JUNE Listen to me very carefully. If I hear one more word about "right" or "wrong," or if you ever
mention that poster again, you won't just be "difficult." You'll be invisible. I'll take away your
dolls, I'll take away your friends, and I'll make sure you spend the next month staring at the
walls of your room until you remember who gives you your life.
Regina shrinks into her seat, her eyes filling with tears. She looks at the dog, who is
whimpering.
JUNE (CONT'D) Do we have an understanding? Or do I need to start taking things away from
you right now?
REGINA (A broken whisper) We have an understanding.
JUNE Good girl. Now, hold the bag. Make sure he doesn't shed on the leather.
ACT 3: THE LIVING ROOM DECEIT
INT. GEORGE MANSION - LIVING ROOM - DAY
The room is filled with elite families of North Shore as well as several elegant admiring
NEIGHBORHOOD WOMEN sipping tea from bone china. There were crystal glasses and a
strong smell of expensive catering. JUNE stands in the center of the room, holding, and
cradling the now miniature diamond-studded collar wearing CHIHUAHUA against her silk
blouse. She is radiant, her smile wide and seemingly genuine.
JUNE (To the group, beaming, voice sugary sweet) Isn't he just the most precious thing? I
discovered him at a high-end boutique through that tiny boutique window on 5th in the city! It
was practically a rescue mission. It symbolizes destiny. He was just too "George" to leave
behind as he screamed for us. Isn't his coat just luminous?
The women lean in, cooing and offering high-pitched praises. All of the women reached to pet
the dog. YOUNG REGINA stands at the edge of the circle by the velvet curtains clutching her
dress, her eyes wide as she watches her mother lie with such effortless grace. She remembers
the "Lost" posters. She remembers the car ride. She looks at the dog, then at the "Lost" poster
she has hidden in her pocket—the one she tore off a telephone pole earlier.
REGINA (Voice small but clear) But Mommy... that's not our dog. You said we were just going to
take him from the—
The circle of women in the room goes quiet. One of the women pauses with a teacup halfway
to her lips. June's smile doesn't flicker or drop, but her eyes go flat and predatory as if they're
turning into shards of glass. She lets out a light, tinkling melodic laugh that sounds like a
warning bell from a scene in a movie people are watching in the theaters with heavy volume
breaking crystal.
JUNE (To the women, amused) Oh, children! They have the most vivid imaginations, don't they?
Just listen to her! Such an imagination! She's still upset because I told her she couldn't name
him 'Sparkle-Puff.' She's still in that phase where she thinks every animal belongs to a magical
kingdom.
June sweeps across the room reaching and pulling Regina back closely into a tight,
performative hug tucking Regina's head against her side. To the crowd of guests, it looks like a
moment of warm maternal embrace. But June leans down, her lips brushing Regina's ear, her
voice dropping into a razor-sharp thin lethal whisper.
JUNE (CONT'D) (Hissing whisper) Quiet. Go to your room right now. Do not embarrass me in
front of these people again, or you will regret having a tongue especially when it is wide open.
June pulls back, her face instantly snapping back into a bright, glossy cheerful "Cool Mom"
mask as she gently nudges Regina toward the hallway.
JUNE (CONT'D) (Cheerfully, for the audience) Go on Regina, why don't you go upstairs and
finish your piano practice and your french verbs sweetie. We wouldn't want to fall behind, would
we honey? We want to stay sharp for the private academy entrance exams! Shoo!
Regina looks at the ground in the living room containing the perfectly well vacuumed carpet
near the hallway containing the porcelain floor, the "Lost" poster crinkling her small hands
shaking. She turns and walks toward the stairs of the house, feeling the weight of the lie setting
into her chest. Behind her, she hears the sound of June's fake, bubbly laughter resume following
her like a threat.
ACT 4: THE INFRACTION
INT. GEORGE MANSION - LIVING ROOM - LATER
The guests are gone. The scent of expensive catering lingers, but the warmth is replaced by a
chilling stillness. JUNE stands alone by the velvet curtains. Her eyes catch a flash of white—a
crumpled piece of paper Regina dropped on the perfectly vacuumed carpet.
She picks it up. She unfurls the "LOST DOG" poster. Her face doesn't move, but the vein in her
neck pulses. She doesn't scream; she simply folds the paper into a neat, sharp square.
INT. REGINA'S BEDROOM - MOMENTS LATER
YOUNG REGINA is sitting at her white vanity, her hands still shaking as she tries to focus on
her French workbook. The door doesn't just open—it hits the stopper with a crack that sounds
like a gunshot.
June marches in. She doesn't say a word until she is standing directly behind Regina, peering at
her through the mirror. She drops the folded poster onto the open workbook.
JUNE (Voice low, vibrating) I told you to be quiet. I told you to go to your room. And yet, you left
a piece of "trash" in my living room for my guests to find.
REGINA (Whimpering) I'm sorry... it fell out of my pocket. I just... I wanted to see if they were
still looking for him.
JUNE (Grabbing Regina's chin, forcing her to look at the poster) Look at it. This is what you
value? A piece of cheap paper from a telephone pole? You would risk our reputation, my hard
work, and your own comfort for this?
June suddenly rips the poster in half, then into quarters, then into tiny shreds, letting the pieces
fall over Regina's lap like gray snow.
JUNE (CONT'D) Since you're so fond of "trash," you can spend the night without your dolls. All
of them. And since you didn't want to use your tongue to speak the truth I gave you, you won't
be using it for dinner, either.
REGINA Mom, please! I'm hungry... and I'm scared of the dark without my bear—
JUNE (Walking to the door, her hand on the light switch) You aren't a victim, Regina. You are a
George who failed an inspection. You will sit here in the dark and think about why "right and
wrong" are words that don't belong to you. They belong to me.
CLICK.
The lights go out. June exits, and the heavy sound of the DEADBOLT sliding into place echoes
through the room. Regina is left in total darkness, sitting in a pile of shredded paper, realizing
that her bedroom is just a cell with better wallpaper.
ACT 5: THE COST OF COMPANY
INT. GEORGE MANSION - FOYER - DAY
The heavy front door clicks shut, silencing the fading laughter of CADY, GRETCHEN, and
KAREN. REGINA turns back toward the stairs, a lingering, rare trace of a genuine smile on her
face from the afternoon's gossip.
JUNE is standing at the top of the landing, her shadow stretching long across the marble floor.
She doesn't move. She simply watches Regina with a look of clinical disappointment.
REGINA (Startled) Mom! I didn't see you there. Cady is actually really smart, she's from Africa,
and she—
JUNE (Cutting her off, voice like a blade) She's a scavenger, Regina. They all are. Do you think
they're here for your "personality"?
June descends the stairs slowly, her eyes scanning the foyer as if looking for dirt left behind by
the guests. She stops on the bottom step, looming over Regina.
JUNE (CONT'D) You brought three parasites into this house on a Wednesday. You allowed
them to breathe the air of this family's success. Gretchen is a sycophant, Karen is a vacuum,
and that new girl... she was looking at your things, wasn't she? Mapping out what she can take
from you?
REGINA (Voice small) We were just having fun, Mom. It's Pink Wednesday. We were just—
JUNE (Grabbing Regina's shoulder, her grip iron-tight) "Fun" is how they distract you while they
exploit the George name. Every second you spend trying to be "one of them" is a second you
spend devaluing the masterpiece I built. You've been weak today. You've been accessible. And
accessibility is the death of power.
June points toward the second floor, her face a mask of lethal authority.
JUNE (CONT'D) Go to your room. Since you're so desperate for company, you can spend the
evening reflecting on why I am the only person you can actually trust. You aren't having dinner.
You're having a lesson in boundaries.
REGINA (Tears stinging her eyes) But I didn't do anything wrong!
JUNE (Coldly) You let them in. That's enough. Move.
Regina retreats up the stairs, her head bowed. As she enters her room, the sound of the
DEADBOLT sliding home echoes through the hallway, leaving her in the silence of her gilded
cage.
ACT 6: THE HALLOWEEN ULTIMATUM
INT. GEORGE MANSION - OCTOBER - NIGHT
Regina (16) stands stiffly in front of a high-powered ring light. She is wearing the silver glittery
tank top and the white bunny ears. The ears are pinned so tightly to her hair that her scalp
stings. It was emotionally tight and uncomfortable. June is aggressively adjusting the alignment
of the ears with her tugs.
JUNE If one hair is out of place, or if you don't smile exactly like we practiced, there is no
trick-or-treating. No candy. No fun. You will stay in your room and study Vogue until your eyes
bleed.
June snaps the shutter indicating June was able to take the photo without any distractions.
FLASH.
JUNE (CONT'D) (Looking at the digital display) It's perfect. You look like a professional.
REGINA (Relieved, her shoulders dropping) Can I go now?
Suddenly, the fine silver glitter from the tank top wafts up, tickling her nose. Regina felt like it
was dust that came up inside her nose. Regina's eyes widen; she tries to pinch her nose to fight
it, but she can't stop the biological reflex.
REGINA (Muffled) A-achoo!
The force of the sneeze knocks her bunny ears lopsided. June's face turns a terrifying shade of
purple. She hurls the camera onto the velvet sofa.
JUNE You ruined the moment! You look like a common sick person! You're supposed to be a
George, not a patient in a ward!
Regina doesn't wait for the scream or the inevitable "locking of the door." She bolts out the front
door into the dark, her white bunny ears dangling off the side of her head indicating that the ears
are lopsiding, running in pure terror from her own mother.
ACT 7: THE JINGLE BELL STAGEMOM (FEAT. CADY)
INT. MANSION - BALLROOM - DAY
JUNE sits at the grand piano, her back straight as a spear. She plays the opening chords of
"Jingle Bell Rock" with aggressive precision.
REGINA (16), GRETCHEN, KAREN, and a very confused CADY stand in a line, wearing the
iconic red Santa outfits. They are practicing the thigh-slap choreography. June stops playing
abruptly with a discordant CLANG of the keys.
JUNE
Gretchen, you're dragging. Karen, stop looking at your feet. Cady, dear, try to look less like
you're hunting a gazelle and more like you're selling a fantasy. And Regina...
June stands up and walks over to Regina, circling her like a predator. She adjusts Regina's belt
so tightly it makes her gasp. Cady's eyes go wide, watching the "Cool Mom" from the movie
transform into a military war general!
JUNE (CONT'D)
You are the centerpiece. If you falter, the whole set collapses. This isn't a school talent show.
This is a demonstration of excellence. Again!
They perform the entire routine. It is flawless. The girls are panting, forced smiles plastered on
their faces. Cady is sweating, glancing sideways at Regina, who looks like she's holding her
breath for dear life.
As the final note rings out, the room is silent. Regina feels a familiar, terrifying tickle in her
sinuses—the smell of the floor wax or the white fur trim on the costume.
REGINA
(Eyes watering, whispering)
No... please...
REGINA (CONT'D)
A-achoo!
ACT 8: THE DEPARTURE
June's face goes stony. She doesn't yell this time; her voice is a low, vibrating hum of fury. Cady
takes a small step back, looking between the mother and daughter.
Suddenly, June's expression SNAPS back into a bright, glossy pageant smile. She turns to
Cady, Karen, and Gretchen, her eyes twinkling with a fake, manic energy.
JUNE (Cheerfully) Oh, girls! You were all just sparkling! But I think we've done enough for today.
Why don't you three head home and rest those pretty legs? You need to stay fresh for the big
night! Go on, shoo! I just need a "mommy-daughter" moment with our centerpiece to polish up
that final beat.
KAREN (Oblivious) Yay, I'm gonna go take a nap in my closet!
GRETCHEN (Checking her phone) Good, because my hair is starting to frizz from the humidity
in here anyway.
Karen and Gretchen quickly exit and head for the front door, dragging a hesitant Cady with
them. Cady looks back once as they step out onto the driveway, seeing June's smile slowly melt
away the moment the heavy front door begins to close, leaving only the cold, hard mask
underneath.
The door clicked shut as the heavy deadbolt THUDDED into place. The girls are gone. The
"Mommy-daughter moment" begins.
JUNE (Voice dropping to a dangerous whisper) The performance ends when the audience
leaves, Regina. Not when you decide to let your nostrils take over.
REGINA Mom, it was just a sneeze, I couldn't help—
JUNE (Pointing to the stairs) To your room. Now. I'll be up shortly to lock the door. We clearly
haven't spent enough time on breath control.
ACT 9: THE SHANE OMAN "THREAT"
EXT. GEORGE MANSION - DRIVEWAY - NIGHT
The headlights of SHANE OMAN'S beat-up car cut through the darkness as he pulls away.
REGINA stands on the gravel, a genuine, soft smile on her face looking actually happy—the
kind she never wears in the school hallways. She waves slightly.
She turns toward the house, her heart sinking as she sees a silhouette standing in the unlit
window of the master bedroom.
INT. MANSION - SECOND FLOOR LANDING - MOMENTS LATER
Regina reaches the top of the stairs, trying to move silently toward her room. She stops dead.
JUNE is standing in the dim light of the hallway, positioned right between Regina's bedroom
door and Kylie's. She is bathed in the cold, blue moonlight hitting the landing. Her arms are
crossed, her posture as rigid as a statue.
JUNE He's a distraction, Regina. He's "human." And humans are messy, unpredictable things
that don't fit into a curated life.
REGINA (Trying to sound defiant) He's just a guy, Mom. We were just talking. He makes me
laugh.
June moves with terrifying speed, closing the distance between them. She reaches out and
grabs Regina's jaw, her manicured nails digging slightly into Regina's skin. She forces Regina to
look at the sprawling, cold perfection of the mansion around them including the dark hallway
where their "perfect" rooms lined up like museum exhibits.
JUNE (A low, lethal hiss) If you bring "trouble" into this house again, or if you tarnish the George
name with some pathetic high school romance that makes you look weak, you won't just be
locked in your room.
June leans in, her breath cold against Regina's ear.
JUNE (CONT'D) You won't like what I do next. I spent sixteen years building you into a
masterpiece. If you start to crack, I will break you back into a block of stone and start over with
Kylie. Do we have an understanding?
Regina's eyes brim with tears, but she doesn't let them fall. She can't. Perfection doesn't cry.
REGINA (A whisper) Yes, Mother.
JUNE Good. Go wash your face. You look... puffy.
ACT 10: THE WEIGHT OF PERFECTION
INT. REGINA'S BEDROOM - MORNING
The morning light is harsh, reflecting off the mirrored surfaces of Regina's vanity. REGINA
stands in the center of the room, her chest heaving. On the desk lies the wrapper of a
KALTEEN BAR, shredded like a confession. The realization—the sabotage, the weight gain,
the betrayal by Cady—is vibrating through her entire body.
JUNE stands by the door, tapping her designer watch. She doesn't look at Regina's face; she
looks at the fit of Regina's clothes.
JUNE Clock is ticking, Regina. The world doesn't wait for "moods." You have three minutes to
be downstairs and ready for the car, or I'm letting the neighbors see you looking like a laundry
pile. Move!
Regina stood in the center of the room with her blonde hair still falling loose and unkept over her
shoulders, her reflection looking fractured in the vanity mirror. Scattered across the unmade bed
and the velvet armchair were the components of her daily "armor" she had yet to fully assemble:
a white bikini (underwear) serving as her base layer, the turquoise blue tank top, her black
sweater, the pink belt, and a pair of blue jeans. Nearby, her white socks and white shoes sat
ready on the floor like equipment for a soldier. It was only after staring at the pile of fabric that
she began the mechanical process of dressing, finally pulling her hair into that tight, defensive
blonde braided side ponytail.
INT. MANSION - FOYER - MOMENTS LATER
Regina emerges from the stairs. She has dressed with frantic, military precision: a turquoise
blue tank top under a black sweater, cinched by a pink belt over blue jeans. She wears
white socks and white shoes, and her blonde hair has been pulled into a tight, braided side
ponytail that looks more like a weapon than a hairstyle.
She clutches the BURN BOOK against her chest like a shield. Her stomach lets out a loud,
hollow growl.
REGINA (Voice cracking) Mom, I'm starving. I didn't have breakfast. I need to eat something
before I go to school or I'm going to faint.
JUNE (Turning slowly, her expression flat and lethal) Breakfast? You want to talk about "eating"
after what you've done to your silhouette this month? Look at that belt, Regina. It's struggling.
REGINA (Tears of rage and hunger welling up) It's not my fault! I was lied to! I'm hungry, Mom,
please—
JUNE (Stepping into Regina's space, her voice a sharp hiss) Hunger is a suggestion, not a
requirement. A George does not "faint." We maintain. If I see you putting a single carb in your
mouth today, I will consider it a personal insult to this family's image. You look... soft. And "soft"
is how people like Cady Heron win.
June reaches out and shoves the front door open, the bright outdoor light spilling into the foyer.
JUNE (CONT'D) Now, get out. Go to that school and fix the mess you've made. If you're going
to cry, do it in the car where the public can't see the streaks on your foundation. Go!
Regina lets out a jagged, sobbing breath. She turns and runs toward the driveway, the Burn
Book tucked under her arm, her white shoes hitting the pavement with a desperate rhythm as
she heads toward North Shore High to start her scorched-earth revenge.
ACT 11: THE PUBLIC EMBARRASSMENT
EXT. STREET OUTSIDE NORTH SHORE HIGH - DAY
The screech of tires and the sickening THUD of the bus hitting Regina still hangs in the air. A
crowd of students is screaming. REGINA lies crumpled on the asphalt, motionless.
June's Sleek RED BMW SUV is already parked at the curb. The driver's side door is flung open.
JUNE is already on the scene, but she isn't running toward her daughter or screaming Regina's
name. She is standing by the hood of her car, looking at the school and glaring at the crowd of
students holding up their phones to record the scene.
JUNE
(To the crowd, shrieking)
Put those phones away! Stop filming! This is a professional & private family matter!
She marches through the students, pushing them away, and stops several feet away from
Regina. She looks down at her daughter's twisted form. Her body broke into pieces. There is no
blood—just the cold, grey asphalt and the massive, ugly dent in the yellow school bus. Her face
contorts into a mask of pure, frantic fury.
JUNE (CONT'D)
(To the sky)
A bus?! A yellow, public school bus?! Are you kidding me?!
She whips out her phone, her fingers trembling as she dials.
JUNE (CONT'D)
(Into phone)
Yes, I need the highest-tier private ambulance immediately! Intersection of North Shore! My
daughter has been... she's been vandalized by a piece of public machinery!
She looks at the principal, who is trying to help. She points a manicured finger at him like a
loaded weapon.
JUNE (CONT'D)
Do not touch her! You've already let her get dust all over that skirt! If there is one permanent
scuff or any type damage including scratches on her, I will own this entire school district by
Monday morning!
The sirens wail in the distance. June doesn't look at Regina's face to see if she's breathing; she
looks at the way Regina's hair is matted against the road.
JUNE (CONT'D)
(Hissing to herself)
Look at her. She looks like a disaster. This is going to be all over the news. My life is over.
As the paramedics rush in, June is already turning her back, walking back to the Red BMW to
bark orders into her phone to her PR team and lawyers, leaving Regina alone on the pavement.
ACT 12: THE BUS ACCIDENT (THE IMAGE OVER THE INDIVIDUAL)
INT. LUXURY HOSPITAL SUITE - DAY
REGINA is lying in a high-tech hospital bed, encased in a HALO BRACE and a NECK
STABILIZER. Her face is pale, her movements restricted to tiny, pained twitches. The room is
filled with expensive flowers, but they aren't from friends—they are "get well" arrangements
June ordered for herself to display.
The door swings open. JUNE strides in, dressed in a sharp, black designer suit. She isn't
carrying a card or a gift. She isn't crying either. She is carrying a LEGAL PAD and a laptop.
She doesn't go to Regina's side to hold her hand. She stops at the foot of the bed and stares at
the metal halo bolted into Regina's head with a look of pure disgust.
JUNE (Pacing) Do you have any idea what this does to our Christmas card, Regina? You're in a
bracket. You look like a half-finished construction project.
REGINA (Voice weak, rasping) Mom... it hurts. They had to... they had to bolt it into my skull...
JUNE (Ignoring her, pacing) I've already called the lawyers. I am suing North Shore High, the
city transit authority, and that bus driver's entire bloodline. Not because you're hurt or in
pain—honestly, Regina, a little pain builds character—but because they tried to kill my
masterpiece.
June stops and slams her hand down on the foot of the bed, causing Regina to flinch in agony.
JUNE (CONT'D) They have ruined the image I spent sixteen years building! You are a George!
Georges do not get hit by public transportation! It's low-class! It makes us look... vulnerable.
REGINA (Tears finally leaking out) I almost died...
JUNE (Looking at her reflection in the hospital window) Well, you didn't. So stop being dramatic.
If the school thinks they can tarnish my family's reputation with a "bus accident," they're wrong.
I'm going to make them pay for every pixel of perfection they took from me today.
June turns her back on her broken daughter to start typing on her laptop. Regina stares up at
the ceiling, realized that to her mother, she isn't a daughter—she's just a damaged piece of
property.
ACT 13: THE DAMAGED GOODS
INT. GEORGE MANSION - LIVING ROOM - DAY
The grand living room has been rearranged. A sterile, adjustable hospital bed has been placed
in the center of the Persian rug, looking completely out of place among the gold-leafed furniture.
REGINA is strapped into the bed, her halo brace glinting under the chandelier. The paramedics
have just left. The silence is heavy, broken only by the click of JUNE'S heels as she paces a
circle around the bed, inspecting Regina like a landlord checking a vandalized apartment.
JUNE (Gesturing wildly) Look at this. My foyer looks like a trauma ward. I've had to cancel three
brunch meetings because I can't have people seeing... this.
REGINA (Wincing as she tries to speak) Mom... please, the medication... I'm dizzy...
JUNE (Stopping abruptly, pointing a finger) You're dizzy? I'm the one who has to deal with the
insurance adjusters! This is all your fault, Regina. If you hadn't been so "emotional," chasing
after that Heron girl like a common person, you would have seen the bus. You let your guard
down. You let yourself look stupid in front of the entire school.
REGINA (Tears blurring her vision) I was... I was hurt... Cady ruined everything...
JUNE (Leaning over her, eyes cold) No. You let her ruin it. You allowed a "glitch" in the system,
and now the system is broken. Do you have any idea how much it costs to keep the press away
from the fact that my daughter is bolted together like a Frankenstein project?
June grabs a nearby throw pillow and punches it into shape, placing it aggressively under
Regina's head, causing the halo brace to jar Regina's neck.
JUNE (CONT'D) You are going to stay in this room. You are going to heal perfectly, or you are
going to stay hidden until I can find a surgeon who can fix the mess you've made of my
reputation. You aren't a victim, Regina. You're a liability.
June walks toward the bar to pour a drink, leaving Regina paralyzed in the middle of the room,
surrounded by luxury but more alone than she was on the asphalt.
ACT 14: THE SPRING FLING PREPARATION
INT. REGINA'S BEDROOM - EVENING
The room smells of industrial-strength hairspray and painkillers. REGINA sits stiffly on the edge
of her bed. She is wearing a light pink sleeveless dress, but the fabric bunches uncomfortably
around the base of her neck brace.
JUNE, dressed in a sharp blue sleeveless dress, is behind her, aggressively pinning Regina's
hair. Every movement jars Regina's spine.
REGINA (Wincing, eyes watering) Mom... please, stop. It's pulling on the bolts. It hurts so
much...
JUNE (Not stopping, her voice sharp) Stop complaining about the pain, Regina. It's repetitive
and it's unattractive. You are lucky I'm even taking you to this dance after the embarrassment
you caused this family. Most mothers would have kept you locked in the basement until that
metal comes off.
June grabs a handful of glittery body powder and puffs it onto Regina's shoulders, the cloud of
dust making Regina cough.
JUNE (CONT'D) I want everything flawless tonight. If you so much as limp or grimace in front of
those cameras, I will tell the driver to turn the car around and you will spend the rest of the year
in the dark. You are a George. We don't "hurt." We endure.
June leans over, looking at their shared reflection in the vanity mirror—the blue dress next to the
pink. She smiles, but her eyes stay cold.
JUNE (CONT'D) There. Now you look like a masterpiece again. A slightly... reinforced one.
ACT 15: THE ARRIVAL
EXT. NORTH SHORE HIGH - NIGHT
The Red BMW screeches to a halt at the front entrance. The music from the gym thumps in the
background.
JUNE steps out first, her blue dress catching the light. She doesn't go to the passenger side to
help Regina out; she waits for the valet. When the door finally opens, REGINA emerges slowly,
her movements robotic and pained, her neck brace glinting under the school's fluorescent
entryway lights.
JUNE (Hissing under her breath) Shoulders back. Chin up. Smile like I taught you, or so help
me, Regina...
June hooks her arm through Regina's, but it isn't an act of support—it's a grip of iron, physically
propping Regina up so she doesn't collapse.
JUNE (CONT'D) (To the crowd, loudly and cheerfully) Make way! The Queen has returned!
Doesn't she look just miraculous?
As they walk into the gym, June is waving at parents and teachers, soaking up the attention,
while Regina stares straight ahead, her face a frozen mask of agony and survival. She has
finally realized that the only way to satisfy the "General" is to stop being a person entirely.