Kid Turboni, 12, has a plan to make it rain. His friends Billy, 11, and Kelly, 11, are helping him. Their first attempt didn't go so well, so they're planning a second. (The umbrellas are to protect them from the sun—it's a dangerous heat wave.)

(Warning: Using this scene without permission is illegal, as is reproducing it on a website or in print in any way.)

(Kid, Billy, and Kelly enter with umbrellas. Kelly is now wearing Ray-Ban knockoffs, too. They line up, and all at once, open their umbrellas and sit down.)

BILLY: I think we can all agree last night was a burp in the overall rain-bringing plan.
KID: I'm missing some skin over my right knee.
KELLY: Does it hurt?
KID: It did, before the nerve died.
KELLY: Truth.
BILLY: My mother informed me that it is supposed to hit 115 tomorrow, so tonight must go better.
KID: Agreed.
BILLY: With Mr. T floating around, we only have a brief window in which to bring the rain. And if we are to go bigger and better than we did yesterday—
KID: —which we are—
BILLY: —then we must operate like a well-oiled machine, you know what I'm sayin'?
KELLY: Half the time, yes.
KID: What did you have in mind?
BILLY: You know that shopping cart those teenagers left a few blocks down on California?
KID: Yeah?
BILLY: We'll need that.
KELLY: Those get hot sittin' in the sun all day—make sure to grab oven mitts first. What else?
BILLY: We'll need the Christmas lights with the battery pack from the storage shed.
KID: Anything else?
BILLY: I'll cover the rest.
KID: What time tonight?
BILLY: Nine forty-five. Shout across the courtyard to me that you're ready and I'll meet you in front of East Block.
KELLY: What if the manager catches us?
BILLY: That's your job, Kelly. Keep Mr. Mathers occupied and then meet up with us on California Street at 10 PM.
KELLY: Word.
KID: Am I going to lose anymore skin?
BILLY: No. Possibly the same amount as last time. Nothing more.
KID: If I die, I would like to leave you my Viking helmet, Billy.
BILLY: My brother is good to me. I am blessed.
KID: Treat it well. If my dad comes out, how do we get away?
BILLY: One miracle at a time, Kid.
KELLY: What about your mom, Billy?
BILLY: Working the late shift at the hotel. She won't be home until midnight, at the earliest.
KELLY: You want to come over for dinner?
KID: His mom left a casserole.
BILLY: She's good at casseroles.

(Pause.)

Prepare yourself for magic and wonder, Kid. Tonight, it happens.

(Billy exits.)

KELLY: Do you think we'll be able to pull it off tonight?
KID: No. Well, I don't know. Maybe. I want to make sure I do it right, if we're going to do it at all.
KELLY: What do you mean?
KID: Nothing.
KELLY: Hey, Kid?
KID: Yeah?
KELLY: ...You ever sit by the garden in the courtyard and think?
KID: ...No.
KELLY: You ever sit anywhere and just think?

(For a brief second, the scene darkens to the confessional spotlight and the sound of a sparkler is heard. Kid stares out toward the audience. As soon as the moment rises, it falls, and Kid's back in the courtyard with Kelly. The whole sequence should only take a few seconds.)

KID: No...
KELLY: Sometimes I sit there and think about school, the times when everyone thinks I should be understanding something that doesn't make sense.
KID: ...Like what?
KELLY: Like... You know how they go around the room and make everyone take a turn reading a paragraph or two out loud?
KID: Yeah?
KELLY: I just have trouble with that, sometimes.
KID: What kind of trouble?
KELLY: Letters not being where I think they should be. Like a puzzle that was put together wrong.
KID: You should tell Ms. Finster. I bet she'd help you.
KELLY: I don't want to tell anyone.

Except you, I guess.

I'm sorry, that was weird.

(She stands up and goes to leave.)

KID: I keep having dreams about my mom.

(She stops, sits back down.)

KELLY: What kind of dreams?
KID: One dream over and over.

We're crossing Washington Street on our way to Taqueria Veracruz for dinner.

She was real excited about it. I can smell her perfume, in the dream.

I feel the street under my shoe, and I see the car. The yellow headlights.

I feel her push me hard, and then my face hitting the street, breaking my nose.

Then I see Mom on the ground, and the broken bumper with the glass from the headlights everywhere.

A police officer picks me up and I see the red and blue lights reflect off every window on the way to the hospital.

KELLY: Kid.
KID: The dreams have been coming on real strong lately, stronger even than the night after her funeral, and I thought it'd never be worse than that.
KELLY: Maybe it's the heat?
KID: Yeah, the heat.
KELLY: Truth.

(Pause. Kelly reaches over and holds Kid's hand.)