You Can Count on Me (eBook)

fade in: int./ext. a car (moving). night.

The shifting lights from the odd passing car play over the faces of mr. and mrs. prescott, a pleasant-looking couple in their late thirties, dressed up for a night out. Mr. Prescott drives them along a dark hilly two-lane highway.

mrs. prescott

Why do they always put braces on teenage girls at the exact moment when they're the most self-conscious about their appearance?

Pause.

mr. prescott

I don't know.

up ahead, near the top of the oncoming hill, a red pickup truck is poking its nose out of the short exit lane.

mrs. prescott

Tom-

mr. prescott

I see him . . .

The pickup lurches into the road, with not nearly enough time to spare.

mrs. prescottmr. prescott

Tom!Jesus!

Mr. Prescott swerves over the double solid white line and clears the truck as-

Another pair of headlights from an oncoming truck rises up over the hill directly in front of them-

mrs. prescott (Screams)

Tom!

Mr. Prescott's foot stomps on the brake. We black out and there is the sound of a terrible crash.

cut to:

ext. the prescotts' front door. night.

The shadow of a big man looms up onto the front door. A big finger rings the bell.

A moment.

amy, a thirteen-year-old baby-sitter with braces, opens the door and looks up. In the b.g. we see two children, sammy (Samantha) and terry prescott, in their pajamas, lying on their stomachs in the living room, watching television. Sammy is eleven. Terry is eight.

reverse: darryl, the sheriff, a portly fellow with glasses and a mustache, looks down at amy.

sheriff

Hello, Amy.

amy (Puzzled)

Hi, Darryl.

sheriff (Thinking)

Amy, would you please tell the kids you'll be right back, and then shut the door and come outside to talk to us for a minute?

amy

OK. (To kids) Be right back, you guys!

sammy

You're not supposed to go out, Amy.

terry

She's going to smoke a cigarette.

amy closes the door and looks expectantly up at Darryl. Darryl doesn't know how to start.

ext. church. day.

credits begin over a blustery April day. The steeple of the little white church stands out against the sharp blue sky.

int. town church. day.

It's a small church and a small congregation, but it's full. There's a choir of mostly senior citizens arrayed in the back. two closed caskets are laid out in front of the minister, a fiftyish woman with thick glasses and salt-and-pepper hair, who is giving a eulogy mos.

Among the mourners in the second row sit Terry and Sammy, both red-eyed, and uncomfortable in their dress-up clothes. Their Aunt Ruth, a pinch-faced woman in her forties, sits next to them.

Sammy and Terry are holding hands tightly. Terry wipes his eyes with his free hand.

The Minister addresses her remarks to the children. Sammy is hanging on the Minister's every word, Terry is shifting his eyes and his seat as if it will kill him to sit still another minute.

dissolve to:

ext. scottsville cemetery. sixteen years later. day.

On the beautiful hill overlooking the beautiful windy green country, sammy, twenty-seven years old now, puts flowers on her parents' graves with quick, practiced movements.

She is a nice-looking young woman of a neat appearance, saved from primness by an elusive, pleasantly flustered quality. An unsuccessfully neat person. She is dressed in office clothes-white blouse, dark skirt, high heels, light raincoat over everything. She picks out a couple of weeds and then bows her head and closes her...