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First Day of High School Script
INT. HIGH SCHOOL HALLWAY - MORNING
The hallway is a chaotic river of bodies. A sea of unfamiliar faces and lockers that stretch into infinity. The noise is a deafening hum of a thousand conversations, a new language they haven’t learned yet.
JAKE (14, lanky, with a backpack that seems to weigh more than he does) stands with his back pressed against a wall, eyes wide with a mixture of terror and wonder.
Across from him, LEO (14, shorter, a confident swagger that doesn’t quite reach his eyes) is scrolling on his phone, a grimace on his face.
LEO
This place is a death trap. I can already feel my social life dying.
JAKE
I don’t think that’s a thing, man. A place can’t kill a social life.
LEO
This one can. Look at it. It’s like a sardine can designed by a sadist. The freshmen are all huddled together like baby penguins. And the seniors... they’re the killer whales.
Leo gestures with his thumb toward a group of SENIORS leaning against lockers, their laughter echoing through the hall. They look impossibly cool and old.
JAKE
They’re just... people. They’re probably a little nervous, too.
LEO
(Scoffs)
Please. You think they’re nervous? They’re plotting our demise. I bet they have a list. "Operation: First-Year Fiasco." I’m probably at the top.
JAKE
(Checks his phone)
My first class is on the third floor. Room 312. I have no idea where that is.
LEO
(Looks up from his phone, a new wave of panic hitting him)
Three-hundred what? Dude, I have gym class first. It’s in the basement. They probably put us in the most extreme opposites of the building so we get lost and wander into the lion’s den.
Jake looks at the spiraling staircases and endless corridors. His backpack feels even heavier now.
JAKE
I don’t even know what to do. Just... walk?
LEO
Don’t look lost. That’s the first rule. Walk with purpose. Like you’re on a mission. Like you know exactly where you’re going, even if you’re actually just trying to figure out which direction is “up.”
Leo takes a deep breath, stands up a little straighter, and starts walking with an exaggerated, determined gait. Jake follows, trying to mimic his confident stride. They weave through the crowded hall, their eyes darting around, searching for a sign, a number, anything.
They pass a JANITOR pushing a cart. He looks at them, a small, knowing smile on his face.
JAKE
Hey, uh, sorry to bother you, but do you know where room 312 is?
The Janitor points a silent finger toward the ceiling.
LEO
See? The third floor. He’s mocking us. "Up, little freshmen, to your doom."
They find a staircase and begin the long climb. The stairs are surprisingly quiet, a brief reprieve from the hallway madness.
JAKE
We should have done the tour. My mom wanted us to.
LEO
No way. Tours are for tourists. We’re locals now. We have to learn the streets on our own. It’s part of the initiation.
JAKE
I think the initiation is probably just getting to class on time without crying.
They reach the third floor. It’s quieter up here, the crowds thinned out. They can see the numbers on the doors.
LEO
Okay, 305... 307... 309...
They stop. In front of them, a door. Room 311.
LEO
Wait. My gym class is still in the basement. I have to go all the way back down.
JAKE
You’re kidding.
LEO
Look. (Shows Jake his phone)
“Gym Class, Basement Level.” What kind of a sadistic schedule is this?
JAKE
I guess... this is it.
They stand there for a moment, the quiet of the hallway suddenly feeling like a chasm between them. This is the first time since kindergarten they won’t be in the same class, the same room, the same orbit.
LEO
(Sighs)
Well. You know. Don’t get lost.
JAKE
You, too. And don’t get eaten by the killer whales.
A small smile finally breaks through Leo’s confident facade.
LEO
See you at lunch, man. Find me in the cafeteria. Don’t get put at the loser table.
JAKE
I’ll try. You too.
Leo gives a little nod and starts the long trek back down the stairs. Jake watches him go, a sudden feeling of being very small and very alone settling over him. He takes a deep breath, turns to his left, and finds it. Room 312.
He puts his hand on the cold metal door handle, his heart pounding a rhythm against his ribs. He’s on his own now. The unknown is just on the other side. He pushes the door open and steps inside.
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