Chapter 5

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CHARLTON HIGH SCHOOL MEDIA LAB

Two boys are seated at a curved metal desk; the large screen monitor between them reads CHARLTON SPEAKS. The front of the desk is draped with a banner displaying the school mascot, the Charlton Cougar. The first boy, leaning forward with barely contained energy, is broad-shouldered with cropped dark hair and the kind of eyes that look deceptively innocent; the second boy is lanky with short ginger hair and a posture that would be relaxed if he weren't constantly fiddling with the pen he's holding.

BOY #1: What's up, Charlton High? This is Jamie McFarland, and...(Glances at the other boy.)

BOY #2, setting his pen down: And this is Zack Tate. We're supposed to be giving a post assembly analysis of our new student body president's speech, but we're not doing that because-

JAMIE, leaning forward and placing both palms on the desk for emphasis: Because the kid never showed!

ZACK, under his breath: Jamie, I wasn't...I was still setting that up.

JAMIE, oblivious: This morning, Charlton High's controversial new class president, Nelson-

TEACHER'S VOICE, off camera: Proper, full names, guys. And just "new class president" is fine.

JAMIE: This morning, Charlton High's new class president, Jesy Nelson, made a mockery of her election by blowing off the entire school-

TEACHER'S VOICE: Less editorialising, please. How about we summarise the election and then talk about student reactions to this morning's assembly?

ZACK: I mean, people were mostly happy they didn't have to listen to Nelson.

JAMIE: With all due respect, Mrs C, the election is old news. Nobody needs it summarised. The burning question that everyone wants answered is: Where the hell is Nelson? (Stares intensely into the camera.) Yesterday, she pledged to lead us into the future. But today-

ZACK: Today she probably overslept.

JAMIE: She did promise that if we elected her, she'd be doing something else. What none of us realised perhaps, is that she meant it literally.

MRS C, with a long suffering sigh: Come on guys. You know the drill. No curse words, no nicknames, no speculation.

ZACK, quietly: No fun.

JAMIE, slumping back in his seat: This show is wasting my talents.

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