Read Moonlight script and do a script analysis based on the questions in the Character Story Questions.
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“In Moonlight Black Boys Look Blue”
By Tarell Alvin McCraney
First, over BLACK, we hear…
The SOUND of the ocean, then…
EXT. 58TH TERRACE/13TH AVE – DAY
A bright Miami day. Or what we can see of it: our gaze fixed,
looking into the front windshield of a wide, vintage car
(think 60s, American).
At the wheel find JUAN (30’s, some sort of Afro-Latino thing
about him) pulling towards us and coming to a stop. Behind
him, a shady, rundown apartment building abuts the road,
three boys standing outside it.
Juan cuts his engine, exits the car and begins across the
street. The boys tense up as Juan approaches, make room as he
continues all the way over to the brick wall behind them.
One of the boys, TERRENCE (18, dreadlocks and rail thin),
bows his chest to speak.
Business good. Everybody cleaned
out, it’s in the cut if you want
Juan just nodding his head, looking at the ground stretching
before them, kind of day where phosphorous fumes wave above
Hold on to that, register don’t
empty til’ the weekend, feel me?
Terrence nodding, the other boys’ heads bowed slightly, a
hierarchy here. As Terrence removes a chocolate Yoohoo from
his back pocket…
…a zombie approaches.
Or rather, a customer, tall, lanky, haggard looking man
approaching across the road.
The haggard man, continuing over, gets near enough to stand
right over Juan. Juan looks up, simmering.
Azu you okay, man?
AZU (30s, broken) staggers a bit, face unsure:
Oh my bad Juan. No disrespect.
What you need?
You know you my man, right Juan?
Azu don’t bring that noise. I got
sells, not samples.
Azu reluctantly extends some bills to Juan. Juan paying the
money no mind, looks straight ahead as Terrence leans in,
takes the money.
Nigga you know the drill.
Azu sighs, turns and begins down the block slowly,
deliberately. Terrence watching him go, then…
…motions to one of the other boys, the boy watching Azu
carefully then slipping away, around the corner of this
complex, the third boy placing his back at the corner of the
As the other boy appears from around the corner again, hands
stuffed in his pockets…
LITTLE BOY 1 (O.S.)
Get that nigga!
Juan looks away from Terrence, across the road and sees…
EXT. HOUSING PROJECTS – DAY – CONTINUOUS
Three young boys (adolescents, 12/13 years old) with sticks
chasing LITTLE (similarly aged but smaller, a runt) who is
The three boys laughing as they give chase but… this is not
a game, more like a hunt.
Little crosses the street in a panic, enters an unfenced lot,
heads for the rear most corner as the boys close in, chase
him through -3
EXT. CONDEMNED BUILDING/CRACKHOUSE – DAY – CONTINUOUS
AN UNHINGED FENCE — Little squeezing through, doesn’t look
back as the other boys attempt to shimmy and wiggle their way
though, too big to glide through like Little.
LITTLE hauling ass, chest heaving as he rounds the corner on
this condemned building. On instinct, the stairs taken two at
a time, reaches the second story landing and pushes his way
INT. CONDEMNED BUILDING/CRACKHOUSE – DAY – CONTINUOUS
Quickly: Little closes the heavy door behind him, engages the
A beat of listening, the SOUND of footsteps hurrying up the
steps, rushing to the door and…
POUNDING. Madness and pounding, the boys cackling like Hyenas
as they beat the living hell out of that door.
Little shrinking, backing away and covering his ears. The
SOUND of things cracking under his feet as he moves: the
ground is covered with glass and syringes, small plastic
vials rolling around all over.
The pounding stops. Little staring at the door as he HEARS
the boys descending the steps with that same juiced energy.
Little’s eyes never leaving that door — waiting,
anticipating, expe-BANG! A window, the rear bedroom. Doesn’t shatter, just a
loud, percussive thump. Little creeps across the room — the
same CRUNCH of glass beneath his feet, creeps into…
THE REAR BEDROOM: more light in here than in the front, from
that window. Little edges up to it, leaned away to not be
seen. Slowly, stealthily, he raises his eyes above the
threshold, SEES the three little bad asses who chased him. On
cue -THUMP! A ratty shoe clanging off the windowpane. Reflex -Little startles, throws himself against the adjacent wall.
As he clinches his eyes closed, breath cloistered up in his
chest-UP CUT TO:
A GLASS PIPE
…held up to catch the light.
INT. CONDEMNED BUILDING/CRACKHOUSE – DAY – LATER
Little stands in the kitchen of this place, holding the
aforementioned glass pipe, staring at it closely.
He sets it down, starts opening cabinets and drawers, just a
kid exploring, when…
BAM BAM BAM! — thudding from the living room. Rather than
the door, a pounding on the front windows, on the boarded up
wood nailed shut where glass would be.
Little huddles in on himself, looks on terrified as…
…a light, a hand as the edge of the plywood gives, a fullsize of it giving way to reveal a tall figure, calm.
Adjusting for the light, we see him fully: it’s Juan.
Juan reaching a leg over the threshold, stands just inside
without encroaching on Little’s space.
A beat as the two take each other in, then:
What you doin’ in here, lil’ man?
Little says nothing, just watches him.
You don’t talk to strangers, huh?
Juan takes a step forward… and Little takes a step back.
(raising his hands)
Juan runs a hand across his scalp, thinking — What the hell
does he do?
Well listen: I’m’a go get something
to eat. You welcome to join me, I
Juan begins across this small space, gets a hand on the
Mind if I take the front door?
Juan opens the door, steps onto the porch, turns back. His
stance open, one hand on the door, the other open, extended
Come on, now.
Can’t be much worse out here.
CUT TO BLACK.
And over BLACK, the TITLE CARD:
INT. ROYAL CASTLE – DAY
Juan and Little at a booth, plates of food sitting between
Little just eating, not a single other care in the world but
You not gon’ tell me what yo’ name
Nothing. Little finishing a drumstick, dips a biscuit into
the gravy there. He’s hungry.
What about where you live? Gotta
get you home, man. Can’t just have
you runnin’ round these dope holes.
Juan reaching across the table now, slowly pulls Little’s
tray over to his side. Little just looking down at the empty
table before him.
My bad, lil’ man. I wouldn’t do you
like that. I apologize, alright?
Juan sliding the food back to Little with his left hand, with
his right reaches across to touch the boy’s shoulder:
I apologize, alright?
Little looking up now, holds Juan’s gaze a moment. Nods his
head in assent.
INT/EXT. JUAN’S CAR – DAY – MOVING
Juan at the wheel. And on the stereo, the same song bridged
from the previous scene, something old school but slowed
(like Al Green’s Let’s Stay Together) chopped and screwed.
Juan ad-libs with the music, crooning. Little gives him the
What? You don’t know nothing ‘bout
that chopped and screwed?
Little shrinking into his seat, shy. Juan just shakes his
head, megawatt smile as they push on.
EXT. JUAN’S HOME – DAY
A plot of land, a modest bungalow set way back from the road,
the longest grass driveway.
Juan shutting the driver’s side door of that Cadillac,
beginning up the lawn toward the front door of this place,
Juan continuing up the walk as a woman, (TERESA, 20s,
motherly) appears at the front door, steps onto the porch as
Juan gestures back to…
INT/EXT. JUAN’S CAR – DAY – CONTINUOUS
Little still sitting in that passenger seat.
Looks out beyond that windshield, Teresa and Juan talking,
gesturing animatedly back at the car.
Little shrinking down in the seat a bit, suddenly bashful
…Teresa begins towards us, towards him.
Little watching the whole way as she approaches, makes her
way down to the driver’s side of that Cadillac, a hand to the
door there and…
…takes a seat.
A meeting of eyes between Little and Teresa, looking right
into one another.
The longest beat, then…
INT. JUAN’S HOME – NIGHT
Juan, Teresa, Little gathered at a modest dining table, the
two grown-ups watching the child going to work on what
appears a delicious plate of home-cooking.
Something odd about this dining room: the walls are two
colors, in the midst of being painted. A few paint tins and
rollers line the floor, a work in progress.
You don’t talk much but you damn
sure can eat.
That’s alright, baby. You talk when
Little looking up from his plate at that, something about
Teresa’s voice, her presence, clicking with him.
My name Chiron.
But people call me Little.
I’m gon’ call you by your name.
Where you live, Chiron?
You live with yo’ mama?
A nod yes from Little.
And what about yo’ daddy?
Nothing. Not a blink, not a nod, barely a breath, just
You want us to take you home, then?
After you finish eating, maybe?
Little lowering his eyes now, gaze going to the table in
front of him:
Teresa and Juan exchanging a look: a confirmation between
You… you can stay here tonight.
Would you like that?
Little nodding yes.
Off Juan taking in this kid…
INT. JUAN’S HOME, SPARE BEDROOM – DAY
LITTLE: fast asleep, extremely close to him here, chest
rising and falling with the soothing rhythms of sleep.
REVERSE ANGLE: JUAN. Standing above the boy, watching him
INT/EXT. JUAN’S CAR – DAY – MOVING
The windows down, a steady but muted wind, Little with his
head leaned out the window there.
Juan watches the boy as he drives, taking his eyes away from
the road to look across the bench seat every now and then.
EXT. PAULA’S APT – DAY
Juan and Little standing on the porch of this closed
apartment, Juan’s hand on Little’s shoulder.
They’re waiting, Juan looking through the curtains there, no
telling if anyone’s inside or not. Is raising his hand to
knock once more, when…
Juan turning, sees a thin, exhausted (but attractive) woman
This is PAULA (mid 20s, Little’s mother). From the looks of
her uniform and a badge that reads “Paula Harris,” a nurse,
just off the night shift. She goes right to Little, pulls him
into her arms, shields him from Juan:
What happened Chiron? Why you
didn’t come home like you supposed
Nothing from Little, eyes cast down, afraid, ashamed. Paula
looking up to Juan, finally gets a good look at him:
And who is you?
Juan considering this, is oddly unsure how to respond, so…
Found him yesterday. Found him in
that hole over on 15th.
And at Paula’s face dropping with recognition:
Paula lowering to her knees, eye-level with Little again,
Wouldn’t tell me where he stayed
until this morning. Some boys
chased him into the cut. Seemed
scared more than anything.
Little embraces Paula, buries his face in her chest. Paula
holding on but looking past him, she and Juan holding eyes.
Paula rises, Little slipping behind her.
Thanks for seeing to him. He
usually can take care of hisself,
he good that way, but…
Paula looking past her son, past this man, thoughts drifting
off. From the looks of her, just a hardworking single mother
in over her head.
Juan’s gaze lingering over her, clearly seeing the same and
yet… just a bit more.
INT. PAULA’S APT – DAY – LATER
Paula standing as Little sits on the couch — Paula standing
above Little, hands on hips.
Doesn’t speak, just looks at the boy, a bewildered look.
Still in that uniform, strain at the corner of her eyes.
You a real damn prize, Chiron, you
Little just looking at his feet, staring at the floor.
You got’sta come home when you
meant to come home, you hear?
Nothing from the boy. Paula gets down to a knee, takes both
his shoulders in her hands:
A slow nod from Little, does indeed.
A beat and, like a wave, something relaxing in Paula, makes
her soft, loving again.
That’s alright baby, that’s
Paula rests a hand on Little’s head, pulls him in tight.
Mama just want to make sure you’re
okay, that’s all baby.
Paula still holding on to Little, to say it’s for dear life
would not be at all an exaggeration.
She releases him and, on cue, Little plops himself down in
front of the television, reaches for the analog dial, but -PAULA
Nuh uh, your TV privileges is
revoked, Buddy Roe.
EXT. GWEN CHERRY PARK – DAY – MOVING
At first, just dirt and rocks, patches of grass coming into
view intermittently as we move over this landscape.
A beat, then…
…the sound of heavy footfalls, twelve to fifteen boys (aged
nine to fourteen and of various shapes and sizes, all black),
WE GO INTO THIS MASS OF ENERGY
…a wild series of images, our view whipping to and fro as
the boys converge and attack, everyone of them focused on a
single boy zigging and zagging amongst them.
That boy finally on the ground, a mass of bodies as all the
other boys pile on top, a true gang-tackle.
The boys unpiling now, one by one rising from the scrum,
unveil the grass-stained body of a fifteen-year-old boy
smiling ear to ear.
The tackled kid rises, gets up holding what appears to be a
wadded up bunch of newspaper at his chest. All eyes on it as
he balances it in his hands before tossing it…
IN THE AIR
…floating, hanging up there forever until it lands…
AT LITTLE’S FEET
Little looking down at this thing in disbelief.
All eyes on Little here, voraciously on Little, menace, harm,
hunger all written there.
Little backing away slowly, one foot behind the other, but…
…someone kicking the ball, moving it along after him,
They all circle Little, no room to back away farther, no
A beat of eyes — expectant, punitive eyes — then…
A breath, a flash, a miracle: some thing reaching into the
scrum, down low at Little’s feet, snatches the wad away.
Pandemonium, all minds and bodies following that hand, that
paper, the scrum muscling past Little, leaves him bumped but
spared as the action moves away, elsewhere along this ruddy
excuse for a field.
Little bringing a hand to his eyes, looking after all the
movement down there: in the center of all those boys, another
kid nearly his size but, in the determination on his face and
bravura of his run, a bit… tougher.
Off Little watching the boy rip and run and evade kids twice
EXT. GWEN CHERRY PARK – DAY
Little walking alone along this side street.
Kicking rocks, grabbing the branches of small trees, listless
when he hears…
From a ways off that came, Little looking back, into the sun.
Can’t quite make him out at first but squinting to see him
better, a bit of familiarity: it’s the kid who just saved his
Little waiting as the kid hurries to catch up. He’s a bit
fucked up, shirt torn, a scratch along the bridge of his
KEVIN (a facsimile of Little but stronger, more broken in).
Why’d you leave?
Kevin falls into step, the boys walking together now.
Yeah, it get borin’ after a while,
The boys continue on, Little looking to his new friend every
now and then, checking him.
(at Little’s looks)
Kevin reaches for his own face now, hand to his chin:
Is it bleedin’?
Kevin turns his head just so, invites Little to inspect.
Little reaches over, touches Kevin gently at the neck, just
below his ear.
Little brings his hand back to himself without a word, just
this walking, arms swinging, the sound of their feet along
Small glances from one to the other. Kevin smiles:
You funny, man.
Why you say that?
You just is, that’s all.
Again this walking, lack of words, just their arms swinging,
Up ahead, the school they’ve been walking beside all this
time gives way to a field. They’re headed right for it.
Kevin taps Little, gestures.
EXT. GWEN CHERRY PARK – DAY
Kevin and Little standing before one another in this
clearing, face to face, like ancient samurai before a
See, you just gotta show them
niggas you ain’t soft.
I ain’t soft.
Always and forever a hothead this one.
I know man, I know. But…
(pauses for effect)
…don’t mean nothin’ if they don’t
No response from Little, maybe he gets it, maybe he doesn’t.
Kevin grabs him, places one arm across Little’s shoulder, the
other around his waist, rests his head in Little’s chest.
Little limply obliging, visually, physically passive.
Come on man, you want these niggas
to pick on you every day?
That gets to Little, the boy locking on, muscles tensing:
This is anthropology, anatomical vignettes, the struggle of
these two boys isolated to the simple, incomplete movements
of partially glimpsed bodies.
These are children. Sexuality is absent these images and yet,
the hints of something sensual, fleeting in its appearances;
Kevin’s cheek wedged close to Little’s neck, blades of grass
sticking to their skin.
The boys on the ground, turning and rolling and laughing,
huffing through exhausted breaths. Slowly, their voices going
mute, the only sound the movement of their bodies against
each other, against the grass.
Physical exhaustion. The boys lie flat.
Both Little and Kevin on their backs, looking skyward, chests
heaving from the exertion. Kevin pops tall to his feet,
fixing his mottled shirt.
See Chiron, I knew you wasn’t soft.
Kevin looking back at Little, looking down at him lying
there, Little fully returning his gaze, these fourteen pages
the first time he’s looked at anyone thus.
EXT. JUAN’S HOME – DAY
A picnic style table on Juan’s front porch, two deck chairs
haphazardly beside it.
Little is sitting atop the picnic table, small bookbag tossed
to the side, shirt distressed and grass-stained from
wrestling. A pencil in hand, he’s doing homework.
A beat with Little, diligently at his work, time tables or
some such thing, then…
…the SOUND of tires easing to a stop, Little’s eyes rising,
gazing out after the noise.
Sets his pencil down as the noise ceases — break pads
squeaking, the sound of a car door opening.
Little lowering his eyes as footsteps approach. After a beat
of those steps nearing…
REVERSE ANGLE: Juan standing here, keys turning over in his
hand, head cocked to the side, a puzzled look.
Little slowly, but… assuredly raising his eyes to meet
Juan looking from Little to the road and back. The look on
his face: How’d he???
EXT. MIAMI BEACH, SHORE – DAY
Juan and Little standing ashore, both of them pulling off
their shoes, their shirts. This being Miami, both already
dressed in shorts, this heat.
Juan moving away, heading toward the surf. Little following,
hurrying to catch up, literally taking hold of Juan’s shirt
as they move…
INTO THE OCEAN
…away from shore, slow, awkward steps, feet in sand.
And Little so small, the water rising quickly.
Juan still moving away from shore, notices Little no longer
beside him. Looks back, the boy a few meters behind.
Little looking to Juan and back to the shore behind him,
gauging the distance between the two. The look on Juan’s
Little diving into the water before him, face down, arms
flailing, fighting the water as much as he’s moving through
Juan steadying himself, buttresses himself against the
current as he reels Little in. The boy clings to him, gasping
for air, spitting out salt water.
Hey hey hey, I got you lil’ man, I
got you, calmate, calmate.
It’s movie magic but they’re a good ways out now, thirty,
forty yards from shore.
The water’s not so deep out here, Juan standing. Little is
far out beyond his height however, Juan supporting him,
holding him out at arms length.
A nod from Little as he wipes saltwater from his eyes.
Good, good. Now… you gotta help
yourself now, gotta move your legs,
keep yourself up.
Juan watching as Little flails his legs beneath the surface.
Nah, not like a chicken, you gotta
move ’em side to side like, like
you making waves with your feet.
Juan going into a tread, very smooth, like someone raised in
the water, born at its edge.
Little taking it to heart, does a passable job of treading.
Not bad, not bad.
Bet you ain’t know you could float,
Juan taking a hand and placing it under Little’s legs, gently
gesturing him onto his back:
Trust me, I got you.
Little laid flat atop the surface now, bobbing with the
Now just relax, alright, relax.
Little complying — Little floating, the look on his face
pure joy. For once, a kid.
Juan slowly, gently, easing his grasp, letting Little go:
Relax now, stay relaxed. See?
Juan circling as Little continues to bob with the surface,
swimming around Little for this last part, is circling him.
You ready to learn how to swim?
Juan standing again, gets his arms under Little and turns the
boy face down in a swimming position.
Alright, you saw me swimming,
Nod from Little.
Okay, do like I did, don’t put your
head under water. And your arms,
try and do ’em like I did mine.
Little mimicking Juan’s swimming as Juan holds him aloft,
Juan holding him fully in place for this practice.
Smoother, more easy’like.
Little settling noticeably, gradually. It’s a stretch but…
looks passable, like maybe he could.
Juan turning him back upright, Little going back to his
Alright lil’ man.
I think you ready.
Little considering that, bobbing in the ocean as he treads.
His eyes on the water stretching out before him, endless.
Even in this dying light, stretching on forever.
Meets Juan’s gaze now. Finds compassion, hope there.
EXT. MIAMI BEACH, SHORE – DAY
Little and Juan sitting ashore, a towel wrapped around the
boy as they watch the moon come up.
The moon making its first appearance on the horizon — SOUND
of the waves running back and forth, to and from shore.
Juan, can I ask you somethin’?
Yeah lil’ man, ask me whatever.
Little nodding, taking his time, oddly nervous about this:
Okay… why your name Juan?
How you mean?
Juan is like a Spanish name.
(and after a thought)
But you black just like me.
Juan turning his head to the boy. A smile and then a full
blown laugh, Juan losing it.
(through his laugh)
Little, you a funny lil’ dude, you
Juan slapping his knee here, really enjoying this moment.
Let me tell you somethin’: it’s
black people everywhere, you
remember that, okay? Ain’t no place
in the world ain’t what got no
black people, we was the first ones
on this planet.
Little embarrassed, poking at the sand before him. Juan
places a hand to his shoulder:
I’m from Cuba. Lotta black folks in
Cuba but you wouldn’t know it from
being here. Was a wild lil’ shorty
just like you, used to run around
with no shoes on when the moon was
Juan’s thoughts drifting, taking him away from here for a
beat. To those waves possibly, arriving on this shore from
that other shore he’s describing not so far away.
This one time… I ran by this old,
old lady, was just a runnin’ and a
hollerin’ and cuttin’ a fool, boy.
And this old lady, she stop me and
she say to me, ‘Look at you.
I was a lil’ bad ass too, you
know.’ She say, ‘Look at you’ and I
say ‘Look at you!’ Then she smiled
and she say, ‘running around
catching up all this light. In
moonlight’ she say, ‘black boys
look blue. You blue,’ she say.
‘That’s what I’m gone call you:
EXT. PAULA’S APT – NIGHT
Little and Juan approach the apartment complex.
So how you like swimmin’?
Nothing from Little. Heard him but the words too heavy to
That good, huh?
Juan grabs Little’s head and playfully shakes it. The boy
smiles, bashful, happy.
They reach Paula’s apartment, Little knocking and calling
A beat, then… Paula’s at the door, a bit drowsy, disheveled
in a way different than the work weary version glimpsed
A moment of Juan taking in Paula. None of them utter a word
for a moment, just the distinct sound of a can opening from
inside the apartment, all of them noting it.
Paula takes Little by the shoulder, pulls him inside.
INT. PAULA’S APT – NIGHT
Little standing away from Paula, face open and curious as we
see what he sees: an average, working class black man -longshoreman type — sitting at the small dining table just
off the kitchen.
Paula standing as this man sits watching Little, neither of
them seeming very familiar with the other; neither seeming
very interested in the other.
A lot of busy work from Paula there, taking things into her
arms: glass things, aluminum things, curious things we cannot
Paula heading off toward the rear bedroom, the man quietly
rising after her, the can of Old English we heard opening
clutched in his hand as he follows her across the apartment.
Little watching the procession — confused, suspicious -eyes lingering on the bedroom door as it closes behind them.
INT/EXT. ELEMENTARY SCHOOL – DAY
Little entering the front gates of this school.
No other kids around, he’s either late or early as a SCHOOL
GUARD waves him through.
INT. ELEMENTARY SCHOOL, DANCE ROOM – DAY
An open room: high ceilings, grey dance mat spanning the bulk
of the room, mirrors running the length of two walls, a
Fifteen to twenty boys and girls moving about — no
coordination, just movement and silliness.
We find Little among them, throwing his head back, moving his
hips to lord knows what rhythm. And holy hell: for the first
time all film, it looks like he might be having fun as we…
INT/EXT. ELEMENTARY SCHOOL – DAY – MOVING
Moving with Little as he makes his way along an exterior
pathway within this school.
His backpack pulled tight on his shoulders, no one else
around as he crosses this space. Ahead of him, a wooden plank
appears, leading to adjoining portable classrooms.
Little heads up the path, steps into…
INT. ELEMENTARY SCHOOL, PORTABLE CLASSROOM – DAY
Little taking two steps in, stops immediately.
REVERSE ANGLE: A circle of boys
…seven in a semi-circle, their backs to us, older looking
for an elementary, all of them looking down and in on one
All eyes go to Little, a hurried, hushed business. One of the
boys breaks away from the circle, hustles over. As he nears,
his identity becomes clear: this is Kevin from our earlier
Somebody with you?
A nod “no” from Little, Kevin moving past him, over to the
portable door and “locks” it. Grabs Little’s shoulder strap,
pulls him over to the circle.
I swear it was locked.
INSIDE THE CIRCLE
…the other boys barely paying attention as we take them all
in, drifting from face to face inside this circle.
All their eyes and hands are cast down: they’re comparing
We drift within this circle:
PORTABLE BOY 1
Yo’ shit ugly as hell.
PORTABLE BOY 2
So, at least mine ain’t a peanut.
PORTABLE BOY 3
He got a Freddy Kruger dick, yo’
shit look like Freddy.
PORTABLE BOY 1
Yo’ shit ain’t even that big, it’s
like the same size as mine, look.
Boy 1 leaning into the circle, his head nearly butting Boy
2’s, facing him, they may as well be touching dicks.
PORTABLE BOY 1
Boy 1 distracted now, looking over at Little.
PORTABLE BOY 1
Who let his ass in?
He just came in.
Kevin is over at the door again, playing lookout.
PORTABLE BOY 1
What they call you? Little, right?
PORTABLE BOY 1
Show your shit.
PORTABLE BOY 3
Why you think they call him Little?
Laughs from all the tough guys gathered, Boy 1 grabbing
Little roughly by the neck, watching as Little reaches down
to himself, nervously unzips his pants.
All the eyes here cast down again, staring down at Little,
down at his dick.
A curious, prolonged silence, then…
…looking back over his shoulder, back at the circle.
From his vantage, the backs of all those heads cast down and
focused on Little.
Off Kevin’s gaze, CUT TO…
INT. PAULA’S APT – DAY (DUSK)
Little entering, stopping himself just a few feet inside as
the door closes behind him.
A beat of Little listening to the house, tiny ears perked
just so. Glances at the far wall — a modest television used
to be there. Blinks in confusion.
Off the sound of silence…
…a chemical flame of blue and red.
INT. PAULA’S APARTMENT, KITCHEN – NIGHT
The front burner on this gas range, Little’s scrawny, lanky
arms setting a five-gallon pot of water to the stove.
The quickest beat of Little before the stove, then…
INT. PAULA’S APARTMENT, BATHROOM – NIGHT
Looking down into a quarter full bathtub, fresh water pouring
into it from the spigot.
The run of water stopping, the rippling surface slowing as
footsteps tread away. A quick beat, then… the return of
foot-steps, the sound of them growing nearer as….
Little here carrying that five-gallon pot, from the steam
coming off it, searing hot with boiling water.
Gets it right up to the edge of the tub, expertly, carefully
pours it in, face leaned back to avoid the steam furiously
rising from the surface.
Finishes this pouring and sets the pot down behind him, on
its side so the handle props most of its metal surface from
the carpet. Reaches down to the floor, retrieves a bottle of
dollar store dish washing liquid.
As he squeezes a ton of this stuff into the water…
…in that tub now, soaking in bubbles.
A beat of the boy at peace.
An extended beat of this boy at peace, right here with him
for a change, no distractions, no deflections.
So young and yet… so much happening behind those eyes. So
INT/EXT. JUAN’S CAR – NIGHT – MOVING
Neck craned out the window, cruising the neighborhood.
Juan barely nodding at whomever that came from, continuing on
his way as we CUT TO:
…counting out dollars.
EXT. ABANDONED COMPLEX – NIGHT
Terrence completing a transaction, stuffing money into his
pockets and nodding in the direction of one of his runners.
Standing opposite him, a face we’ve seen briefly but will
recognize: Paula’s longshoreman.
As the longshoreman moves off, approaches the runner
appearing from behind the complex, Juan approaches, that
smooth easy gait of his.
It’s a brief moment, but… Juan and the longshoreman meet
eyes as they pass one another, nothing of import, but… a
…approaching Terrence with a nod, all that needs to be
spoken as Terrence nods back, whistles at one of the other
boys, sends him running off into the cut.
Been a good one today.
Just a nod from Juan, his attention elsewhere now, following
after the longshoreman. Down the block a ways, not close but
within shouting distance, we SEE the longshoreman getting
into the driver’s side of a Chrysler sedan.
Nothing from Terrence, just watching the same as Juan.
You lettin’ niggas light up at the
You know the rules, no lightin’ up
at the spot.
Juan getting to the sidewalk now, moving toward the
longshoreman’s car a block or so up ahead.
Gets there, finds the windows rolled up, a flash of flame
emanating from inside. Knocks on the window.
Longshoreman rolls it down with a drugged out smile,
shrugging his shoulders in apology. Juan not amused by the
display and, catching a glimpse of the woman in the passenger
seat, clicks into something much more menacing: it’s Paula.
What the fuck?
Juan rounding the car, wastes no time getting to the
passenger side door, pulls it ajar:
Get the fuck out.
Juan helping her out, takes her
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