(Kevin has returned a hat to a girl on the beach.)
TERI: Hey! I'm Teri, with an "RI".
KEVIN: That's pretty.
TERI: How old are you? "How old am I?" Well, uh, gee. Lemme see here.
KEVIN: Uh, fourteen. Forgive me!
KEVIN: How old are you?
TERI: Guess. Uh-oh. I'd heard about these feminine traps before. There was no right way to answer this one.
KEVIN: Well, you're...too pretty to be fourteen.
(Teri smiles.) Then again...
TERI: I'm fifteen.
KEVIN: I was gonna guess fifteen.
(She brushes Kevin's leg with the back of her hand.)
TERI: Sure you were. My god, she touched my leg! Was that an accident?
*
When you're thirteen, it's a long way to Albuquerque.
(Wayne swerves to avoid a car stopped in the road, and goes into a cornfield.) At that moment, all I could think of was that great big house with the great big yard I'd never see again.
KEVIN: Wayne! You're crazy, you know that!? You could have got us killed!
WAYNE: Are you OK? It was the first time he had asked me that question in thirteen years.
KEVIN: Yeah, I think so.
*
That night, the gap between thirteen and sixteen got a little smaller. As for Wayne and me, we didn't have to be friends or anything - but we'd always be brothers.
(Norma doesn't want Kevin to play tackle football.) I was left with only one option - call in the heavy artillery.
(Jack enters the kitchen.)
KEVIN: Dad, we gotta talk!
JACK: Huh? No one had actually ever spoken to my father before he put down his briefcase. But I was going for broke.
KEVIN: Can you think of one good reason why I shouldn't be able to play football with the other guys? I mean, I bet you played football without any equipment when you were a little kid and I've been playing for a very long time now, and nothing's ever really happened, and the guys are really counting me to play tonight.
JACK: So...
KEVIN: So, can we play or not?!
JACK: Sure, go ahead. Touchdown!
NORMA: I don't think it's a good idea, Jack.
JACK: You heard your mother. OK. That did it!
NORMA: So...I'll pick you up from school tomorrow, and we'll go for those shoes. The lines were drawn. The course was unalterable.
NORMA: OK, honey? This was war.
*
(Kevin got mad at Norma for "babying" him, then injured his hand during a game. Now, Kevin takes care of his hand as Norma washes dishes.) Every war has its casualties, and every victory its price. But life goes on. Nothing really changed that night - nothing big, anyway. Just a very little piece of something that was never gonna be the same - not ever. The thing is, it's hard to tie a bandage with just one hand. Sooner or later, though, you learn.
HOBSON: Say, Arnold, wasn't that your car I saw stallin' out in front of school today?
KEVIN: Why?
HOBSON: It's just it sounded like a Sherman tank.
PAUL: Hey, his dad keeps it running!
HOBSON: His dad keeps it runnin', right into the ground. Hey, when's you dad gonna pop for something made in this century?
*
(Jack has not been able to sell the car.)
JACK: Don't worry. (Gestures) We'll find a buyer. Maybe. But suddenly, I was starting to get a bad feeling. A very bad feeling. Suddenly it was crystal-clear. I was gonna inherit that car. My children were gonna inherit it. The Arnold family heirloom.
(Karen steps next to Kevin and looks out.)
KAREN: He's never gonna sell it. And the worst thing was...I didn't understand why.
*
(At dinner.) But now this awful feeling was growing in me. Maybe Craig Hobson had been right. Maybe the problem really was -
KAREN: I swear, Dad...Why are you so cheap? (Frowns.)
NORMA: Karen! (Frowns.)
KAREN: Well, Mom, I really think it's about time!
NORMA: Don't you ever talk like that in this house again! This was it. It was pretty obvious from Dad's expression what was gonna happen. Someone...would have to die.
(Jack stands up and heads toward the door.)
NORMA: Where are you going, Jack?
(Jack pauses at the door and looks down at Karen.)
JACK: For a drive.
(Jack opens the door and exits.) I'm not really sure where Dad was planning to drive to. Maybe just around the block. Maybe for ice-cream. Or maybe...he didn't know himself.
(Sound of the car being started.) In any event...
(Sound of the car spluttering and dying.) He didn't get far.
(Cut to the driveway. Norma slowly approaches Jack, who has the car hood raised. Kevin approaches in the distance and stops at the corner of the house.)
JACK: Probably just a gasket.
NORMA: Jack.
JACK: They have 'em down at the service station. I'll pick one up in the morning.
NORMA: Jack...I know how much you put into this car. We all know. All the hard work...it's worth ten times what you're asking. But Jack...(nods)...we don't need this car anymore.
JACK: The boys can help me push it into the garage so I'll have a little more light. (Nods.)
NORMA: You've held it together longer than anyone could have expected, honey. No one could have done more. Now it's time to move on.
JACK: Think so?
NORMA: Just let it go. (Nods)
JACK: Alright. Alright...
(Fade to day in the driveway. Kevin, Karen, Norma and Wayne are on the curb.)
WAYNE: He's coming!
(Shot of Jack driving a new green car as he honks and turns into the driveway.) And so, we finally got our new car. It wasn't red, it wasn't a convertible...heck, it wasn't even a Mustang. But it was brand-new. And it was pretty cool. Course...Dad got his shot at king-for-a-day...and we were happy for him.
(They all watch a tow-truck lift the rear of the old car. Jack turns to Kevin and smiles.)
KEVIN: Where'll they take it, Dad?
JACK: I don't know...probably sell it for scrap. But that afternoon, I began to understand what Dad had being going through. There was more to that old car than fuel pumps and crankshafts. There was part of all of us in that car. The places we'd gone, the things we'd done...the family we had been. The family that was moving on. And for the first time...I understood the value of what my Dad had put into it. And why it was so hard to let it go.
(Kevin is hinting to Mr. Collins there is a cheating ring in class.)
MR. COLLINS: Every problem...contains its own solution, Mr. Arnold. What was this guy saying? It was like talking to a fortune cookie! - while my grade was sinking like a -
MR. COLLINS: Is there anything else?
KEVIN: No. And that's when I realized I had been wrong about the man. This was no hero. This was just a middle-aged man in a bad suit, teaching junior high algebra.
*
(Kevin has been cheating with the others.)
MR. COLLINS: I've just been looking at your grades.
KEVIN: Yessir...
MR. COLLINS: You shot up...from a 72, two weeks ago, to an 85, to an 87, to a 92, and today, a 96. Now, wouldn't you say that was pretty remarkable?
KEVIN: Well...I guess so...
MR. COLLINS: I've been thinking about what to do about it. In a way...it was a relief. I guess on some level I just wanted the whole thing to be over.
MR. COLLINS: I'd like to put you...in my honors math class.
KEVIN: Ex-excuse me?
MR. COLLINS: We'd have to juggle your schedule...but I think we could manage that. It's a very demanding class, but uh, based on your work in here - I think you're ready for it. What do you think?
KEVIN: Sounds like fun...(Frowns.)
MR. COLLINS: Good. You can start tomorrow. Well, there you had it. I was up the proverbial creek without a slide-rule.
*
Submitted for your approval - a boy...suffering the tortures of algebra. He went looking for easy answers, but somehow it didn't add up. Let "X" equal an unknown quantity. Let "Y" go left unanswered. If six bald men...get on a train...going a hundred miles per hour - how many stops before they reach - The Twilight Zone?
JACK: Where ya going?
ALBERT: I'm going to take the boy for some ice cream - come along if you like.
JACK: Kevin, did you walk your dog?
KEVIN: I was gonna walk him when I get back.
JACK: You're gonna walk him now.
KEVIN: But Dad...
ALBERT: Cut the boy some slack, John. It can wait twenty minutes.
JACK: No, Dad, it can't wait twenty minutes. If the dog has gotta go, he isn't gonna wait twenty minutes. You like to wait twenty minutes?
ALBERT: Not for my ice cream.
KEVIN: I guess I better walk the dog, Grampa.
ALBERT: Suit yourself. Seems a shame though - can't even take my grandson for a little treat.
(Kevin walks toward the house.)
JACK: Kev. Kev, wait up! Look, I know it seems I'm being tough... Tough? Well, not more than say...Ghengis Khan.
JACK: Believe me there's a reason. OK, I was willing to listen to reason.
JACK: It's just...well...
(Albert drives over the lamp-post.)
JACK: Dammit, Dad!
ALBERT: Why do you put this thing so close to the driveway?
JACK: Why don't you stay on the damn driveway?
ALBERT: Ah...!
KEVIN: Dad?
JACK: What?!
KEVIN: What were you going to say?
JACK: Never mind, you wouldn't understand. It's about fathers and sons.
(Jack walks away.)
KEVIN: Oh.
PAUL: She dumped me.
KEVIN: Paul!
PAUL: She dumped me!
KEVIN: Paul, snap out of it!
PAUL: She dumped me.
KEVIN: Wanna talk about it?
PAUL: She said she needed more time with her friends. She said I was suffocating her. I thought she wanted to be suffocated!
MISS WHITE: Cyrano...was so afraid of rejection, he wouldn't confess...his true love for Roxanne. He chose to hide behind the written word, afraid to stand face-to-face with her. So many people would rather suffer in silence.
KEVIN: So, what you're saying, is...
MISS WHITE: Speak from the heart, Kevin - and never be afraid.
KEVIN: You think that'll really work?
MISS WHITE: (Nods.) Hnnn... OK, if she was sure of it, I was sure of it.
KEVIN: Miss White?
MISS WHITE: Mrs. Heimer.
KEVIN: Did it work out for them - Cyrano and Roxanne?
MISS WHITE: (Sighs.) Eventually.
KEVIN: What happened? (Smiles.)
MISS WHITE: He died, and she became a nun.
JACK: These hinges are going, Norma.
NORMA: Jack...(sighs)...not my good crystal...
JACK: Kevin - get my toolbox from the cellar. Now this was serious - this was Mom's stemware.
(Kevin starts to turn away. Norma stops him.)
NORMA: Wait. You could see her reaching back for some way to save the situation. Some way to -
NORMA: I know...why don't you do something with Kevin? Stab me in the back.
JACK: Huh?
NORMA: You could...go to a movie, or...play catch...
KEVIN: Well, I better get going.
NORMA: No, wait! I've got it. Jack...wouldn't this be the perfect time to build that treehouse that you two have always talked about? A treehouse?
KEVIN: A treehouse? (Frowns.)
JACK: A treehouse? (Frowns.)
*
HOBSON: You lucky dog.
PAUL: I don't believe it!
KEVIN: You guys don't understand.
HOBSON: I think we do.
KEVIN: Will you cut it out, Hobson?! I could use a little help here.
HOBSON: You don't need help - you need binoculars.
PAUL: Why?
HOBSON: Pfeiffer, you're hopeless.
KEVIN: Look - all I know is this can't go on. My dad and I are at each others throats!
HOBSON: In that case...there's only one thing to do. At last - a little counsel!
HOBSON: Let me build that treehouse.
*
(Kevin and Jack are efficiently working on the treehouse, because the neighbor is not in her yard.) Yep - we were rollin' now. Like a smoothly-oiled machine. And who knew? We might even finish it by tomorrow if our luck held out. And we didn't get another visit from -
(Jack and Kevin enter the kitchen laughing and smiling. Kevin looks toward the off-screen table and is mildly surprised. Jack does the same.)
(Norma and the neighbor are at the table. A bowl holding a dozen large tomatoes is in the foreground.)
NORMA: Look at the size of those tomatoes, Jack! The singing gardener.
(Jack looks uncomfortable.)
JACK: Yeah...
NORMA: This is Donna. My husband, Jack.
(Donna holds her hand out.)
JACK: Ah, nah, my hands are dirty - I've been working. (Gestures.)
DONNA: That's OK - my hands have been in the dirt all day.
(Jack smiles and shakes her hand.)
NORMA: And that's my youngest - Kevin.
DONNA: Well, hi, Kevin!
(Jack still has a frozen smile, and elbows Kevin.)
KEVIN: Uh...hi.
(Kevin shakes her hand and smiles.)
NORMA: Donna and I met at the supermarket. We started talking in the checkout counter and it turns out Donna lives on Oakdale almost right behind us! (Gestures.)
DONNA: Yeah, just a little over from here!
NORMA: So she told me about her tomatoes...and said she'd bring me some.
DONNA: Uh-huh...
NORMA: And I told the checker...just to put mine back! Didn't I? (Laughs.)
DONNA: Well, then...I guess I just had to bring 'em, huh? (Laughs.)
(Jack forces a laugh. Kevin smiles.) Well! This was homey! I just sort of stood there, but fortunately, my dad was a little more socially-adept.
(Jack gestures toward Kevin and himself uncomfortably.)
JACK: We, um...(gestures)...break. (Smiles.)
NORMA: What, honey?
(Jack points awkwardly at Kevin.)
JACK: Kevin and me. So, a little small-talk...
(Jack grins toward Donna. Donna smiles toward Jack.) The Arnold charm...
(Jack is starting to fidget.)
JACK: Let's go Kev.
(Jack brushes past Kevin.)
DONNA: It was nice to meet you!
(Kevin smiles broadly as he backs up.) And we were out the door.
The halls of RFK junior high often echoed with the sounds of music. The Kennedy Chorale. The Kennedy Madrigals. And of course, the Kennedy Now-Tones. They were all part of a long-standing family of song. But, as with every family, there was a skeleton in the closet. The boys' eigth-grade glee club. The singing group from hell.
(Mr. Frace frowns and glances off.)
MR. FRACE: Oh, boy... Twice a week, we transformed Mr. Frace's choir-room into kind of a chamber of musical horrors.
MR. FRACE: Oh, my gosh. Randy Mitchell - baritone. Doug Porter - monotone. Paul Pfeiffer - no tone at all. And of course...me. Not that we didn't have heart. It's just that the thirteen-year-old-male voice isn't exactly designed for...well...for singing.
(Mr. Frace frowns and sighs, then shakes his finger toward the kids and stands up.)
MR. FRACE: Hold that note. Hold that note. We weren't the stuff tabernacle choirs are made of. So, out of a mutual respect for the arts...
(From a nearby window, a woman math teacher frowns toward the singing class.) And humanity...we'd reached an agreement.
(Mr. Frace snaps the blinds closed.) We wouldn't push Mr. Frace...if he wouldn't push us.
MR. FRACE: Awright, awright - that's enough! Just, uh...(gestures)...get out your books and study. (Nods.) All in all...a pretty equitable arrangement.
PAUL: It isn't fair. Every other group gets to sing some songs and stuff - why can't we? (Frowns.)
KEVIN: Well, maybe because we...(big smile)...stink!
*
But as I look back on that night...it isn't the anticipation I remember best. And it isn't the faces in the audience. What I remember best is that Warren Gander's voice chose exactly that moment...
WARREN: Awwwkk. To change.
WARREN: AhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhAwwwkk. It was...cruel. Before our very eyes, Warren had transformed from lyric tenor...to...
WARREN: Awwwkk. Well...a bullfrog. So the rest of us did the only thing we could. We panicked.
MISS HAYCOCK (Whispered): Keep going! (Gestures.) Keep going!
GUYS (Singing): Men, men, men, men... But the die was cast. Paul sneezed. Which was too much for Doug. Somebody laughed, and I dropped my music.
MISS HAYCOCK (Whispered): Keep going! It was kind of a chain reaction. I'd like to say we rallied...but...we didn't. It was no one's fault, really. I guess we'd just been pushed beyond our limits. We we're a bunch of eigth-grade boys. Not an ensemble of stout-hearted men. As for Miss Haycock...she'd dreamed of molding us into something we weren't.
(Miss Haycock walks off the stage slightly dazed.) But that night...she got her wake-up call. The only problem was...she wasn't there to answer it.
MR. CANTWELL: The horny toad. A voracious predator. Devouring the innocent...
(Kevin and Winnie look at each other nervously.)
MR. CANTWELL:...the harmless...the defenseless.
PAUL: So..Friday night, huh, guys? It's gonna be great! Uh-huh. Great!
(Shot of film as an ant gets eaten.)
MR. CANTWELL: Look out, little angel.
KEVIN: You know, Winnie, we really haven't talked about this.
WINNIE: Talked about what?
KEVIN: The party. I mean...do you really want to go?
WINNIE: I said I did. Don't you?
KEVIN: Well...I guess so.
WINNIE: What do you mean - "I guess so"?
KEVIN: Well I mean - OK, this was getting out of hand. I mean, weren't we on the same side, here?
KEVIN: I just want to do what you want to do.
(Winnie turns accusatorily toward Kevin.)
WINNIE: Then you're saying you don't want to go?
(The horny toad snatches a bug with its long tongue.)
MR. CANTWELL: Oops!
KEVIN: No!
WINNIE: I don't know...(sighs)...Let's just go and get it over with! "Get it over with"? What did she mean by that?
KEVIN: What are you saying?!
WINNIE: It's just that, everyone expects us to go, so, we should go!
KEVIN: Oh. So...we're going...
WINNIE: If you think we should.
KEVIN: Y'I do. (Gestures.)
WINNIE: Then we should go.
KEVIN: Fine. Then we'll go.
WINNIE: Great!
KEVIN: Great! So we finally agreed. Ready or not, we were on our way to makeout central.
MR. CANTWELL: Note how the tongue darts like lightning.
(Shot of a chameleon sucking up a bug.)
MR. CANTWELL: Flick! Yeah! This was gonna be some fun.
*
I guess I knew what was gonna happen - she was gonna tell me she hated me.
WINNIE: You must really hate me!
KEVIN: What?!
WINNIE: For making you go to that party!
KEVIN: Well...
WINNIE: I hated being in there with you.
KEVIN: I know.
WINNIE: It was awful.
KEVIN: Then why'd you go with me?! Look, Winnie, let's just make it easy on ourselves. I mean there's no sense in -
WINNIE: I really hated it.
KEVIN: Winnie, why are you saying this? Not that I really had to ask - it was all pretty clear now.
WINNIE: Because you're my boyfriend. Oh!
WINNIE: Who else am I gonna say it to? Well, there was a certain logic to that.
KEVIN: So I'm your boyfriend. Except...you hated being there with me. Do I have that right?
(Winnie nods. Kevin frowns and gestures.)
KEVIN: And you hated being there with me, because you didn't want to kiss me. Do I have that right?
(Winnie nods again.)
(Kevin sighs and looks away.)
WINNIE: I did want to kiss you.
(She shrugs slightly.)
WINNIE: Just not then.
KEVIN: Well then when?!
(She kisses him.)
KEVIN: Dad, have you ever thought about your life?
JACK: Huh?
KEVIN: Uh, well...it's for school. I mean, if you had to write about it, what would you say? OK, time for a meaningful father-son exchange here. A thoughtful summing up.
JACK: I get up at five in the morning. I fight traffic. I bust my hump all day, I fight traffic again. Then I pay my taxes - "The End ".
*
(The living room with Wayne.)
WAYNE: What's that?
KEVIN: Nothing. Which was true. I'd been staring at that page for an hour-and-a-half without coming up with a single word. Some kind of writer's block, I guess.
WAYNE: An obituary? Well, lemme see, maybe I can help.
KEVIN: Wayne...
WAYNE: Let's see..."Kevin Arnold. Born a butthead. Lived...a butthead's life. Died...a butthead!" Did ya get any of that down?
I felt betrayed. Here I was, practically begging for the man to help...and the man was throwing me an anvil for a life-jacket.
KEVIN: I -
(Mr. Collins turns toward him. Kevin sighs and looks away. He sighs again and looks at Mr. Collins.) But there was nothing more to say, except for one thing.
KEVIN: I thought you were my friend.
MR. COLLINS: Not your friend, Mr. Arnold. Your teacher.
KEVIN: Dad, you can't do this!
JACK: Huh?
KEVIN: I mean, you haven't even asked us what we think about it!
JACK: I gotta ask permission to get the dry-rot fixed?
KEVIN: Then you're not selling the house?
JACK: Of course not!
NORMA: There. I told you! And suddenly the skies began to clear.
(Norma looks at a business card.)
NORMA: Who is this, anyway, Jack?
JACK: Guy I met across the street. Suddenly my fears had disappeared. The world was great. We were staying!
JACK: He's gonna be working on Cooper's house after they move out.
KEVIN: Huh?
NORMA: Jack...
JACK: Uh...Sorry...
NORMA: The Cooper's thought it was best if Winnie told you. They're not moving far, honey. Just a few miles.
KEVIN: Oh.
WAYNE: You know what the best part is? The Coopster's going to a different school next year. Across town.
*
Winnie Cooper was leaving. Leaving her home. Leaving her past.
(Winnie starts to walk out of the moving van. Kevin grabs her hand. Winnie looks at Kevin.) Leaving...
(Kevin looks down at Winnie's hand. She slowly opens her hand and is holding Kevin's ring. She looks at Kevin.)
WINNIE: You.
