Mugshot

emma Miszewski

INT. SMELLY SCHOOL GYMNASIUM

ASHLEY (12) props herself up on a three-legged wooden stool. A line of somewhat awkward and ugly tweens chat offensively in the background, all adorned in RED shoes.

She pulls her hair into an impossibly tight high ponytail. Side-eyeing the cutest boy within proximity to her, she smiles.

This is no ordinary smile. This is the smile of a girl whose braces were taken OFF at 10.

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INT. SMELLIER GYMNASIUM BATHROOM

BEA (12) practices a snaggle-toothed smile. Her braces are green and red, for Christmastime, of course. This only emphasizes the yellow of her gummy grin, though.

Her teal backpack slams against her as she runs sloppily out the door.

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INT. SMELLY SCHOOL GYMNASIUM

Cameras SNAP as Ashley readjusts the straps of her maroon Align Tank. She shoots a pissy look at the lens, annoyed with the shot just wasted.

The PERVY PHOTOGRAPHER (30ish) turns to the EDITOR (30ish).

PERVY PHOTOGRAPHER

She's a heartbreaker, for sure.

EDITOR

Uhhh.

The Editor diverts his gaze.

EDITOR (CONT'D)

Definitely.

The photographer locks eyes with Ashley, camera still clicking. He makes a kissy face.

PERVY PHOTOGRAPHER

Beaaaautiful. Good girl.

Ashley looks directly at the audience, wtf.

Bea weaves through the line, trampling past a crowd of slurs and disapproval.

She cuts to the front, pushing up the rim of her red tortoise frames.

She watches Ashley walk off, entranced with her perfection. Ashley catches her gaze.

Shit.

Bea stumbles onto the wooden stool, preparing the same smile she was performing in the bathroom mirror.

The SCREECHES of sneakers and mumbles of the pervy photographer and editor begin to swell. Nobody acknowledges her.

BEA

(Unprompted)

CHEEEEEEESE!

The camera clicks, three times consecutively.

The editor flicks through the pictures on his monitor and shrugs.

PERVY PHOTOGRAPHER

(Under his breath)

Yeesh.

Leaning:

INT. SCHOOL HALLWAY- LOCKERS

Bea's eyes become moons as someone SLAMS her locker closed. She's shocked when the hands are revealed to be Ashley's.

BEA

Oh, hey Ashley.

Bea inhales deeply, fidgeting frantically with the lock attached to an increasingly red locker.

ASHLEY

Cute shirt.

It's not a cute shirt. It's a women’s fitted v-neck with Pusheen on it.

Ashley eyes her, bottom to top.

ASHLEY (CONT'D)

Is that, like, an anime thing?

BEA

Ah... Not- exactly.

Ashley SMACKS her friends walking by who are laughing at Bea.

Ashley's second-prettiest friend Claire halts the conversation.

CLAIRE

(To Ashley)

Hey, are you going to Jamie's sleepover?

ASHLEY

Wait I thought that was at Lily's place??

CLAIRE

Nah she's with her dad this weekend.

ASHLEY

Ohh.

Ashley looks back at Bea like she forgot they had spoken in the first place.

Ashley's eyes widen and her lips press into a maniacal smirk.

ASHLEY (CONT'D)

Oh my god. You should come!!!

At this point, all of Ashley's friends begin swarming. A slew of "ASHLEY STOPPP!" and giggles fill the hallway. Lockers slam louder in anticipation. Whispers intensify.

Bea ignores it all. Excitement floods her face. She fidgets, scanning from girl to girl so as to gauge whether or not she's welcome.

BEA

Uh. Yeah... Sure!

The pack of girls look down at their phones, typing and giggling.

Ashley looks down then up at Bea... staring her dead in the eyes and raising an eyebrow.

BEA (CONT'D)

Unless it's on a Saturday. My family and I usually go to church.

Ashley finally breaks, turning her face away from Bea to break into laughter.

CLAIRE

We'll..

She bursts into forced giggles.

CLAIRE (CONT'D)

We'll see you Friday!

BEA

Thanks! Thank you!!

Bea walks away excitedly on the toes of her feet. It looks noticeably goofy. All the girls make fun, centering Ashley like a shrine.

CUT TO:

INT. JAMIE'S BATHROOM—NIGHT

The muffled sound of secrets creep through the walls of a fluorescent-lit children's bathroom.

It's almost pitch black, lit by the crescent moon peeking through the window.

Bea is curled up, grabbing her knees with one hand and iPhone with the other. Dicks and facial hair are strewn about her face in RED LIPSTICK.

Bea weeps quietly.

BEA

It's not fun, Mom.

She blows her nose into her pajama sleeves.

BEA (CONT'D)

No. No. They're all laughing at me, Mom. That's why I was invited.

Bea hears three faint knocks at the door.

BEA (CONT'D)

(To her mom)

One second.

Her voice croaks.

BEA (CONT'D)

I'm in here!

ASHLEY

I know.

Ashley opens the door and squats down to Bea's level. Bea swiftly wipes off her tears.

ASHLEY (CONT'D)

They're all bitches.

BEA

(inwardly)

Yeah.

Ashley gets up and grabs a washcloth. She runs it under hot water and rings it out.

Leaning in, Ashley locks eyes with Bea, pressing down gently on her forehead.

BEA (CONT'D)

You know... they would stop if you just told them to.

Ashley half-winces and stops for a second.

BEA (CONT'D)

And... and you don't have to hang out with them just because you're pretty.

Ashley breaks a smile for a moment, still focused on scrubbing.

She finishes, hanging the washcloth back up on its rack. She slides down the cool tiled wall alongside Bea. She sighs.

ASHLEY

I guess I'd never really thought about it before.

Her head turns towards Bea, inching closer.

Hands nervously reach for solid ground.

Ashley tucks a frizzy piece of hair behind Bea's ear. Bea finally completes the act—leaning in and kissing her. She breaks into a crooked, Christmas-themed smile.

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INT. SMELLY SCHOOL CAFETERIA- DAY

Bea's smile radiates across the room as she peaks her first glance at Ashley since that night.

Quickly, though, it reverses at the sight of her holding the hand of some d-bag eighth grader, ETHAN (13). He has a stupid brown bowl-cut that flares at the end. Disgusting.

Bea rushes off to the bathroom, gag-reflex activated. Her legs shake as she passes Ashley.

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INT. SMELLIER CAFETERIA BATHROOM

Bea rushes as fast as her legs will allow. She locks the stall, gets on her knees, and hurls.

The door swings open, and beneath the stall she sees crisp Air Force Ones and a Pura Vida anklet. Her eyes wide open.

Bea works up some courage before unlocking the stall, taking deep breaths.

By the sinks, Ashley waits for her, tray in hand.

Bea eyes up the Bosco sticks and marinara sauce, dismayed at her own gluten intolerance.

She starts to wash her hands and Ashley stops her.

BEA

What's going on?

Ashley inhales deeply, twinging her eyebrows in an act of violence. She thrusts the tray directly at Bea's white, 3/4 length tee. Deep red marinara spills all down her outfit.

ASHLEY

Everybody knows you're a lesbo. I have a boyfriend, you fucking creep.

Bea scoops the sauce off of her face in one foul swipe.

The sound of cafeteria conflict and camera clicks begin to swell. Lunch trays outside are thrown into the trash. Linoleum floors squeak. It reaches a crescendo...

Then silence.

Bashing in Ashley's stupid ski-slope nose, a single stream of blood pours down her face.

Bea's Christmas colored braces are revealed once again by her enormous grin.

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MUGSHOT

Emma Miszewski is a second year senior developing their craft at Interlochen Arts Academy in the film and new media department. They are a young director, interested in exploring themes of girlhood, shame, and exploring the heights of joy with the same respect as dramatic depths. They received a Silver Key in the 2023 Scholastic Art & Writing Awards, along with the J. Maddy award for excellent filmmaking.