The kitchen was vibrating with nervous energy. It was 7:00 AM, and the air smelled of hairspray and burnt toast.
Mitchell and Cameron were frantically moving between the counter and the table, packing lunches and checking watches.
"Lily, sweetie!" Mitchell called out toward the hallway, his voice pitching up an octave. "You have to go. It's Kindergarten! You love blocks! You love... structure!"
"She's not moving, Mitchell," Cam whispered, clutching a juice box like a grenade. "She's staging a protest. It's Ghandi in a plaid skirt."
The back door opened. Aman walked in from the upstairs unit, fully dressed for his first day at Palisades High. He looked calm, his backpack slung over one shoulder, a stark contrast to the panic downstairs.
"Morning," Aman said, grabbing an apple from the bowl.
"Morning! Help!" Cam pointed toward the hallway. "Your sister is refusing to come out and we dont want to force her out."
Aman took a bite of the apple and walked down the hallway to Lily's room.
Inside, Lily was fully dressed in her uniform, sitting on the edge of her bed. Her small legs dangled, kicking the air. She was staring intently at the wall, her brow furrowed in genuine distress.
Aman walked in. He didn't hover. He sat down next to her on the bed, matching her silence for a moment.
"I get it," Aman said softly. "New place , scary right?."
Lily didn't look up. She picked at the hem of her skirt.
"I don't want to go," she whispered.
"Hey," Aman said, leaning forward slightly to catch her eye. "You can't be like this. You get to make new friends."
Lily looked up then. Her eyes were wide and little wet, the defiance crumbling into genuine fear. This was the part that was really paralyzing her.
"What if I don't make any?" she asked, her voice small.
Aman softened. He looked at her, seeing the genuine terror of being five years old and walking into a room of strangers.
"You are a brave girl, Lily," Aman said firmly. "This is what we call a leap of faith. You can only move forward. If you remain here, you will be stuck. Like you those kids would be on their first day."
She processed the logic.
"Okay," she said quietly.
She hopped off the bed. She bent down and put on her shoes. Then, she stood up and wrapped her arms around Aman's waist, burying her face in his jacket for a brief second.
"Let's go," she said, pulling away and marching toward the door.
EXT. PALISADES HIGH SCHOOL - DAY
The SUV pulled up to the curb outside the high school. It was a chaotic sea of teenagers and cars.
Mitchell turned around in the driver's seat.
"Have a great day!" Mitchell said, forcing a cheerful smile. "Make good choices!"
"I will. Bye," Aman said efficiently.
He opened the door and stepped out onto the sidewalk. He adjusted his backpack.
Waiting right by the entrance was Alex Dunphy. She looked impatient, checking her watch and tapping her foot. As soon as she saw Aman, she marched over.
"Do you have your schedule?" Alex asked immediately, falling into step beside him. "The south hall is a bottleneck. We need to move."
She was walking fast, her knuckles white on her binder.
Aman slowed his pace, looking around at the campus.
"You seem nervous," Aman observed. "You should calm down."
Alex stopped, looking offended. "I am not—"
Aman wasn't looking at her. He was looking toward a group of "cool" kids in varsity jackets leaning against the lockers near the entrance.
Instead of rushing past them like Alex wanted, Aman caught the eye of one of the guys.He just gave a , simple nod.
The guy looked at him, paused, and nodded back.
Aman kept walking.
Alex scrambled to catch up, her eyes wide with confusion. She looked back at the popular kids, then at Aman.
"Do you know them?" Alex asked, bewildered.
"No," Aman said.
He just kept moving forward .
Alex stood there for a second, dumbfounded, staring at his back before walking to catch up.
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NT. NORTH SHORE HIGH / PALISADES HIGH - HOMEROOM - MORNING
The classroom smelled of floor wax and teenage apathy. Mr. Duvall, the homeroom teacher who looked like he had accepted his fate long ago, tapped a piece of chalk against the blackboard.
"Settle down, settle down," he droned, his voice barely rising above the murmur of thirty sophomores. "We have new meat... I mean, new students today."
He gestured to the front of the room.
Standing there were two very different portraits of the transfer student experience.
On the left was Cady Heron. She looked like a deer caught in the headlights of a semi-truck. Her backpack straps were pulled so tight they were cutting off circulation to her shoulders. She was wearing a flannel shirt that screamed "my parents are zoologists," and her eyes were darting around the room as if expecting a predator to leap out from the drop ceiling.
On the right stood Aman.
He was leaning against Mr. Duvall's desk, one hand casually tucked into the pocket of his dark jeans. He wore a crisp white t-shirt under a light bomber jacket, looking less like a transfer student and more like a visiting adjunct professor. He scanned the room looking at people faces .
"This is Cady Heron," Mr. Duvall read from a slip of paper. "She's joining us from... Africa."
A ripple of whispers went through the class. Africa? Like, the Lion King?
"And this is Aman," Mr. Duvall continued, squinting at the next slip. "Who moved here from... down the street."
A few kids chuckled. Aman gave a small, polite nod.
His eyes locked onto Cady for a split second. A flash of recognition sparked in his brain.
INT. AMAN'S MIND / CONFESSIONAL
Aman is sitting in a school chair and desk, looking directly into the camera lens.
AMAN " Cady Heron. I know the her or i should i say i remember her ."
(He leans in, his voice dropping to a conspiratorial whisper)
AMAN "And a ticking time bomb. She seems like an innocent flower right now, but give her three months, and she's going to torch this entire ecosystem. She's the Oppenheimer of teenage drama. i can see the ripples ."
(He sits back)
AMAN " She's just as the rest of them. I mean... Plastic girls."
Aman " so this i show newton felt when oppenheimer came to him with the calculation . " Aman smile "Huh "
INT. CLASSROOM - CONTINUOUS
Mr. Duvall pointed to two empty desks in the back. "Take a seat, guys."
As they walked down the aisle, Cady leaned toward Aman, her voice trembling.
"I've never been in a real school before," she whispered. "Is it always this loud?"
Aman looked at her. He could have warned her. He could have told her to avoid the Plastics, to join the Mathletes immediately, to run for her life. But that would be waste , it's her life and her decision .
"I think you'll fit just right in," Aman replied smoothly.
He sat down. He opened his notebook.
INT. CAFETERIA - LUNCH
The cafeteria was a sensory assault. The roar of conversation bounced off the linoleum floors.
Aman stood in the doorway with his tray, scanning the terrain. he start moving toward a bench that seem empty . a hand grabbed him.
"Came with me" a voice snapped.
It was Alex Dunphy. She looked intense, her glasses perched on her nose . She dragged him toward a table near the edge of the room.
"That table is for the JV soccer team," Alex explained as they sat down. "They have a collective IQ of forty. they think they have marked at table."
Aman popped the tab on his soda. "Good to see you too, Alex. How's the first day in the trenches?"
"It's a sociological nightmare," Alex muttered, opening her laptop.
She pointed a carrot stick at the room, sweeping it across the various tables . She was collecting thing in her memories .
"Pay attention, because I'm only going to explain the caste system once," Alex said. "You have your Varsity Jocks. Neanderthals. Then you have the Desperate Wannabes—girls who buy knock-off purses and laugh too loud."
She pointed to a smoky corner near the exit. "Burnouts. "
Aman's gaze drifted past the Burnouts to a table near the center. There was a girl who look like young emma stone.
"Who's that?" Aman asked.
Alex glanced over. "Olive Penderghast. She's a nerd like me, theoretically. But she befriended Rhiannon, who is in the 'Popular' category but doesn't quite fit in the Plastic group. She was able to move to popluar group table that way ."
"Got it," Aman said. "And the top of the food chain?"
"The worst of all," Alex said darkly. "The Plastics."
"The Plastics?" Aman asked, feigning ignorance.
"Cold. Shiny. Hard," Alex recited. "They run this school unofficialy for girls side at least. They destroy lives for sport."
Just then, the cafeteria noise level dropped by fifty percent.
The double doors swung open.
Three girls walked in.
In the lead was Regina George. She was blonde, pristine. She had a walk , aman noted . She wore pink, or should i say all three wore pink.
Flanking her were Gretchen Wieners (nervous energy, big hair) and Karen Smith (staring at a shiny object in the distance).
They moved through the cafeteria like sharks parting a school of fish.
"That," Alex whispered, gripping her carrot stick until it snapped, "is Regina George. She's not a girl. She's the queen bee."
The Plastics were heading toward their usual table in the center—the throne table. But as they passed Alex and Aman's table, Regina paused.
She stopped.
Regina turned slowly. Her eyes landed on Alex. There was no warmth in her gaze, only the predatory assessment of a cat toying with a mouse.
"Oh my god, Alex," Regina said. Her voice was high, sweet. "I love your shirt. It's so... brave."
Alex froze. She knew exactly what "brave" meant. It meant ugly. It meant masculine.
Regina smiled, letting the insult linger in the air. Then, she pivoted.
Her cold gaze landed on Aman.
She looked him up and down. She look at him , the relaxed posture, the lack of fear. He was sitting with the outcasts, but he didn't look like an outcast. He looked good but a little lanky .
"And who is this?" Regina asked, her eyes narrowing slightly.
Alex was nervous and a little fuming , as she tuck a hair behind her hair. She opened her mouth to snap back, to unleash a biting, witty retort that would surely get her but she wasn't brave enough to speak so she keep her mouth closed.
Aman spoke seeing the silence.
He didn't get angry. He didn't stutter. He simply leaned back in his plastic chair, crossed his arms, and looked Regina George directly in the eye.
He smiled. It wasn't a nervous smile. It was the amused, indulgent smile of a man .
"You must be Regina," Aman said smoothly. His voice was calm, carrying just enough volume to be heard by the nearby tables. "Everyone talks about you."
Regina blinked. She paused. This wasn't the script. Nerds were supposed to stutter. Jocks were supposed to drool.
"They do?" Regina asked.
"Constantly, about how preety you are ." Aman lied effortlessly. "You are pretty."
The bluntness of it disarmed her. It wasn't a catcall. It was stated like a fact, like he was noting the weather.
Regina's guard dropped for a fraction of a second. The vanity engine that powered her soul revved up. She preened slightly, flipping her hair over her shoulder.
"I know," Regina said, a genuine, self-satisfied smile breaking through the ice.
her frineds speak "Right?"
"You have a great day, Regina," Aman said, nodding a dismissal.
"Bye, new boy," she murmured
She turned and walked away . Gretchen and Karen scurried after her like pilot fish.
INT. CAFETERIA - MOMENTS LATER
Alex stared at Aman. Her mouth was slightly open. She looked like she had just watched him donate a kidney to a serial killer.
"Are you kidding me?" Alex . "You literally groveled! You fed the beast!"
Aman picked up his sandwich, unwrapping the foil. "I didn't grovel, Alex. I paid the toll."
"You called her pretty like a horn dog!"
"She wanted validation," Aman explained calmly. "If I had insulted her, she would have made it her mission to come after us . If I had ignored her, she would have escalated. I gave her exactly what she needed to get her off our backs. It's smart. "
Alex shook her head, disgust radiating off her in waves .
"You're just like the rest of them," she spat. "The Dirtbag Theory is confirmed. All boys are the same. You just like pretty girls. You'd probably thank her if she stepped on your face with those heels."
Aman stopped mid-bite. He set the sandwich down.
He looked at Alex. Really looked at her. He saw the insecurity masked by intellect. He saw the defense mechanisms that were high .
"That's not true," Aman said softly. "Boys also like cute girls. I just didn't pick a random fight on day one."
Alex rolled her eyes. "Yeah. Cute girls. Like Regina."
"No," Aman said.
He waited until she looked at him.
"Like you."
The sounds of the cafeteria seemed to drop away for Alex. She froze. Her fork hovered halfway to her mouth. Her brain, usually a supercomputer now a blue screen .
Did he just...? No. He couldn't have.
Aman watched the flush creep up her neck. He felt a sudden, sharp pang of regret.
Internal Monologue: Damn. Too far? No, wait. The context. We live in the same duplex. Mitch and Cam adopted me. Claire is technically my aunt now.
He cleared his throat, breaking the tension with a wry smile.
"Damn," Aman chuckled, shaking his head. "We're practically cousins now. Family zone. I really missed the window on that one."
Alex blinked, her system rebooting. She let out a breath she didn't know she was holding. The compliment was real, but the "cousin" joke gave her a safe exit ramp.
She scrambled her answer.
"Oh," Alex stammered, adjusting her glasses. "How... convenient for you."
Aman just smiled, picking up his sandwich again. "Eat your carrots, Alex. You need the beta-carotene for all that eye-rolling."
INT. CAFETERIA - BACKGROUND
While Alex was recovering , the cafeteria doors opened again.
Cady Heron walked in. She was holding a tray of unidentifiable grey mush.
She looked lost. A classmate (Jason) stand in front of her .
"hey do you like muffin , do you like cutter muffin" Jason muttered.
Cady dont know what to say.
From their table, Alex spotted her. She waved.
"Hey!" Alex called out. "Cady! Over here!"
Cady looked up. She saw Alex and Aman. She took a step toward them.
But then, a voice cut through the noise.
"Hey!"
It was Regina George. She was sitting and poke to cady .
Regina "Do you wanna sex with him ?"
cady " No!!"
Regina " you heard her , now on your way ."
"You!" Regina pointed at Cady. "Come sit with us!"
Cady stopped. She looked at Alex. Then she looked at Regina—the shiny, golden goddess who was offering her sanctuary.
Cady hesitated. The pressure was immense. She didn't know how to refuse.
She gave Alex a small, apologetic look, then turned and walked toward the Plastics table.
Alex's hand dropped. Her eyes narrowed into slits.
"And so it begins," Alex whispered.
Aman watched Cady sit down next to Gretchen Wieners. He took a sip of his soda.
Internal Monologue: And there's the match. The fuse is lit. Now I just need to make sure I'm watching from a safe distance when it blows.
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there a problem about which year they had been sources are conflicting so i am gonna take them as sophmore here as i had been taking . if there some mistake down the line i hope you guy understand .
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any other movies you guys want me to add , this year is already full anyway .