THE BOX SOCIAL By Scott Summerhayes Based on the original short story by James Reaney Copyright Scott Summerhayes 2011 Top Finalist in 2010/2011 Canadian Short Screenplay Competition Scott Summerhayes Hamilton, ON him@scottsummerhayes.me
FADE IN: INT. KITCHEN - EVENING... teenage girl, pale, thin, short, frail--almost like a china doll; very pretty... is dressed in pajamas and stands next to the table, cutting up decorative paper and pasting pieces to a shoebox. She reaches for a brush and paint. (Shouting) Auntie, do you know where I put my gold paint? No response in this SILENT, DARK home. The only light on is that in the kitchen. Sylvia grabs purple instead, and begins coating her box. Folding green linen in her hands, Sylvia cuts holes along the edges to create a pattern, then wraps the box in it with the purple seen through. A black ribbon tied around the lid finishes the box. (CONT D) It would look so much more beautiful with the sandwiches and a little bottle of olives inside. Noticing the paint and glue that cover her delicate fingers, she grabs the box and leaves. INT. BATHROOM - MOMENTS LATER Resting the box by the sink, washes her hands with plenty of soap. She analyses her complexion in the mirror, glancing over at the bath. She dries her hands, goes to the door and closes it to BLACKOUT. FADE TO:
2. INT. KITCHEN - LATER In an elegant, red dress, walks into the kitchen. She places the box on the table where she has left a MESS. She takes a glass from beside the sink, rinses it once and refills it with tepid water. Nervously, she SIPS then SPLASHES the remains back in the sink. Sylvia wraps her box in a sheet of brown paper, twisting the open ends closed, like an oversized hard candy. She tosses on her winter coat, grabs her box, and proceeds to the... FRONT DOOR (Up the stairs) Okay Auntie, I m leaving now. Cradling her box like a baby, walks out the front door, closing it gently behind her. Two lights are left on in the messy kitchen. Paint, glue, and decorative material are left scattered on the table, and a DROP OF RED rests on a shard of white paper. EXT./INT. SCHOOL FRONT - LATER The RAIN falls in soft applause, and CHURCH BELLS RING in the distance. A half-dozen cars are parked in front. passes them as she carries her box up the steps where MRS. TWITE stands just indoors, greeting the arriving students. Sylvia, you re better. Yes, I am. Well that s nice to see. It s just upstairs. We ll talk later if you like. Thank you.
3. INT. CLASSROOM - MOMENTS LATER wearily walks up the stairs. She peeks through the small window in the door. A breath. She cracks the door open, and quietly slips through. As Sylvia steps in everyone takes notice to her and her PALE SKIN, and THIN physique--fragile. Sylv! You re here! Yeah. They hug. How are you? I m... Over her friend s shoulder she catches sight of a BOY. Her mind interrupted, Sylvia stares a moment. (CONT D) I m better. Well, come and sit with us. You can put your box on Mrs. Twite s desk. Sylvia does, unwrapping it and CRUMBLING the brown paper in the bin beside. The boy watches Sylvia from across the room, noticing her box. LATER (CONT D) Come with me. stands in front of a chalkboard; SILENT as her FRIENDS chat about gossip. Okay everyone, we re going to begin. (CONTINUED)
CONTINUED: 4. She drags a desk from the corner to the middle of the room, making an AWFUL SCRATCHY SOUND. (CONT D) Does everyone know how a box social works? The room holds a silent pause. (CONT D) Alright. A box social is a community event that they used to do years ago... s VOICE FADES OUT as Sylvia loses focus, staring off into the room, at her box, at the BOY; viciously, she BITES her nails. Dazed, she falls back on the blackboard, smudging the chalk. (Whispering) Oh Sylvia, your dress! Oh, darn. The bends behind Sylvia, and brushes the dust off her back. Ha. It blends right in with your skin. The boy watches from across the room. The room nods....so inside each box a girl has packed a meal, and the boys will bid on the boxes for the meal and the company of the anonymous young lady who decorated and packed it. Yes? (CONT D) Brilliant! Sylvia stands, staring, BITING her nails some more, heart BEATING, nervous, watching as each box is placed and taken; waiting for hers to be selected. Then it is. (CONTINUED)
CONTINUED: 5. Mrs. Twite weighs the box in her hands before gently placing it on the desk. The room, half empty looks on. (CONT D) This lovely box wrapped in green. What young gentlemen wants to eat with the pretty young lady who has wrapped her box in green? BOY (Beat) Five dollars! The men CROWD, staring at him and the box. We hear whispers of gossip from in the crowd. No other bids. He picks up the box and goes straight to Sylvia. Sylvia, is that your box? Yes, Mrs. Twite. Mrs. Twite continues to the next. BOY I knew it was yours. It looks so nice... and you look very pretty. Sylvia looks up at him with a SINFUL SMIRK. INT. CAFETERIA - MOMENTS LATER picks a table and sits. The BOY remains standing. BOY You aren t mad at me anymore? No answer. Sylvia points her nose at the floor, with GLASSY EYES, avoiding eye contact. She CLENCHES HER CLAMMY HANDS in her lap. The boy sits down quite comfortably, and begins untying the black ribbon as the clock TICKS loudly above them. He lifts the lid and sits staring at what lay inside... The crabbed corpse of a still-born child wreathed in bloody newspaper. (CONTINUED)
CONTINUED: 6. FADE OUT. (Softly) I hated you so much. THE END