.

INT. NEW DELHI. TATTOO PARLOUR INSIDE SHOPPING MALL. DAY.

EVE, 17, is leaning on her front being tattooed. Her two friends, SIMRAN and MORITZ stand watching. EVE is Scottish, wild and feisty. SIMRAN is Indian, sharp and considerate. MORITZ is German, cerebral and awkward. The three speak with muddled American-International accents.

All of them carry themselves with a false confidence that only comes with extreme privilege.

SIMRAN: It honestly looks like a dick, dude

EVE: What?!

SIMRAN: Yeah.

MORITZ: Yeah, dude.

EVE: That doesn't make any sense?!

SIMRAN and MORITZ laugh.

EVE (cont'd): Wow, alright. No joint for you after this. How's that?

MORITZ: Sensitive.

SIMRAN receives a text.

SIMRAN: Party's moved.

EVE lets out a gasp from the tattoo gun and jolts in the chair.

SIMRAN (cont'd): It's fine, relax.

EVE: I have a needle going in and out of my back.

SIMRAN: Oh, yeah. Are we nearly done?

MORITZ: Where's the party moved? Chattarpur still?

Text appears onscreen: "*Chattarpur- area situated on the outskirts of Delhi. Stretches of land referred to as Farm Houses litter the area. But don't expect to see animals or crop. Think: mansions and wedding venues."

SIMRAN: Yeah... We're gonna need to get going soon if we still wanna pick up some booze and have it at yours beforehand.

EVE: No problem, I'll just try and suck in the ink to make it go faster, yeah?

MORITZ: You got food at yours?

EVE: Yes bb, I'll be sure to put out an arrangement of snacks for your arrival.

MORITZ: I don't like you with a tattoo. You've changed.

SIMRAN receives another text.

SIMRAN: These addresses, I swear to god. "Lane C, Lotus Gardens, B block". Moritz?

MORITZ: I'll send it to my driver.

EVE: I can't do another night circling chattarpur and sticking our heads out of the window trying to follow the sound of music in the distance.

SIMRAN: There's a map on the event. I think Ash has drawn it himself.

MORITZ: Why the change?

SIMRAN: Police came looking for bribes. Guess they figured it's easier to just bribe them for a noise complaint at another venue later on.

MORITZ: Ash can afford it, surely.

EVE: More budget for the bar?

SIMRAN: Guess so.

TATTOO ARTIST wipes down excess ink from EVE's back.

TATTOO ARTIST: Sirf Bharat Mein. Acha.

SIMRAN: Acha! Looking good.

EVE: Yeah?!

EVE gets up and goes to the big mirror behind her to look at the tattoo on her shoulder.

Text appears onscreen: "*Translation: Only in India."

Credits read: Third Culture Kid.

CUT TO:

INT. MORITZ' CAR. NIGHT. 11.05AM.

MORITZ sits in the front seat next to the driver, RAJ. SIMRAN and EVE are in the back dancing around. They pass between them a plastic bottle of premixed drink. MORITZ controls the music via an aux cable while smoking a joint out the window.

MORITZ: We've been down this one already, not this one.

EVE: We've been in this car for hours.

SIMRAN: You want me to call someone there and put their driver on?

MORITZ: 77 blue plate up front.

MORITZ (cont'd): (to Driver) Follow that car?

EVE: Is it someone we know?

SIMRAN: What's 77?

MORITZ: American.

EVE: He has them memorized.

MORITZ: Number three.

EVE: That won't be Amira then.

SIMRAN: English please.

MORITZ: See the second set of numbers? That's number in command. So this is three.

EVE: Who's parents are third at the American embassy?

MORITZ: Amira's family is first, obviously. Then it's the Carsons...

SIMRAN: If only the ambassador knew what you've got up to in their pool, Eve.

EVEL: They are so welcome.

MORITZ: Fuck, is it Kayla?

EVE: Don't know what she'd be doing at this party.

SIMRAN: Meow.

EVE: What?

MORITZ: It is, I can see her curly hair. I think her two little friends are with her.

SIMRAN: Interesting.

EVE: Why are we following them? They're probably just going for a sleepover somewhere.

The car pulls around the corner and outside a large set of gates are groups of teenagers giving their names to a security guard with a guest list. MORITZ' driver comes to a stop.

RAJ: I'm waiting how long?

MORITZ turns to EVE and SIMRAN.

MORITZ: Curfews?

SIMRAN: Nope.

EVE: She's staying at mine.

MORITZ: (to Driver) 2 o'clock okay?

EVE: Maybe three.

MORITZ: (to Eve) Shut up.

MORITZ (cont'd): (to Driver) Thank you!

EVE/SIMRAN: Thanks Raj!

RAJ: Okay.

MORITZ, SIMRAN, and EVE exit the car and make their way to the gate of the property which is grand and leads up to a mansion. By the gate is a security guard with a rifle slung behind his back. He holds a clipboard with a guest list. MORITZ gives their names, and they are let through the gate.

RAJ rolls down the window to call out to the GUARD.

RAJ (cont'd): (Hindi) Parking, kyan hai bhai?

GUARD: (Hindi) If you've dropped off, get lost.

RAJ rolls up the window and drives around the corner. The GUARD peers after the car as it drives away and marks down the license plate.

RAJ: (Under breath) Bahanchud.

Text appears on screen: "*Translation: Sisterfucker. Bit more bite than Motherfucker."

RAJ pulls up to a bank of cars and hops out. Several drivers stand around chatting. They know each other from endless pick up and drop offs to similar events.

DRIVER 1: (Hindi) Bhai, how are you?

RAJ: (Hindi) Not so bad, not so bad. Late night for us all, huh?

DRIVER 2: (Hindi) Don't worry, bhai, we'll pay a visit to the Dhaba nearby.

Text on screen: "*Dhaba- roadside food stop frequented by anyone on a long drive. You won't find a better Aloo Paratha."

RAJ: Acha.

DRIVER 1 hands RAJ a cigarette and lights it for him.

DRIVER 2: (Hindi) Are you driving Madam to the Hyatt hotel tomorrow?

RAJ: (Hindi) Hanji, see you there bhai. Madam-ji haircut time.

DRIVER 2: (Hindi) We can sleep on the charpois out back, hai-na?

Text on screen: "*Charpoi- A woven bench, often doubling as a bed for tired drivers wiped out after a night of trailing after drunk and privileged Firanghis. (*Foreigners)"

DRIVER 1: (Hindi) Tonight will be a late one, na?

RAJ: (Hindi) I'll see you both there?

DRIVER 1: Mini-madam has soccer, let's see

where I'm sent!

............................................................

INT. EVE'S HOUSE. LIVING ROOM. 11.56AM.

SIMRAN and EVE sit on the sofa. EVE's Dad, ROB, stands over them. Both girls look wrung out. The atmosphere is tense, someone is in trouble. SIMRAN receives a text and there is a honk from a car outside.

SIMRAN: That's my car.

ROB: That's fine, we'll see you later, Simran.

SIMRAN: I'm so, so sorry Mr. Evans.

ROB: It's not me you have to be sorry to. Get yourself home, and have a chat with your parents.

SIMRAN: I'll let you know if I hear anything.

SIMRAN leaves the house, sheepishly waving goodbye to EVE.

ROB is staring down at EVE, she avoids eye contact. She suddenly seems like a child.

ROB: Are you out of your mind?!

EVE: That might be the last time I see Simran until winter break, Dad! You couldn't have let me say goodbye properly?

ROB: You have a flight this evening. To go to university. Which you only scraped by to get into, I'll add. Today is a really big day for us as a family. The last thing, and I mean the last thing that I wanted to wake up to was a call from the American Embassy asking where your friend is.

EVE: Dad, she does this all the time. She's probably/

ROB: You don't understand how serious this is. What would make you think it was a good idea to let your friend tell her parents she'd be staying under our roof, while you have no idea where she might be. That makes me responsible for her, Eve!

EVE: I know, I'm sorry. I really thought she was coming back with us. We'd planned to meet at India Gate but she didn't turn up. I'm sure she's just been out too late and her phone has run out.

ROB: Love, I don't want to hear it. You need to call everyone you know. Everyone who was at that party. This is your responsibility. You want to be a grown up? Run around at all hours to parties and go off to uni like a big girl? You take responsibility for yourself.

EVE: Dad, she's my friend. I'm worried about her, as well.

ROB: Angel, if she doesn't turn up soon, you won't be going back tonight. If her mum makes the right call, I lose my job. Do you understand that? Where's your brother?

EVE: I don't know, I'll call him.

ROB: Now I'm going to have to ring your mum and let her know you might not be getting back over to Scotland to meet her tomorrow. She's been running around all week trying to sort things out for you over there.

EVE is already dialing for CAMERON. The phone rings.

ROB storms up the stairs. When he is out of sight, EVE leaps to her feet and paces about.

EVE: Cameron?

CAMERON: (O.S) Is she with you?

EVE: What?

CAMERON: (O.S) Amira! Is she with you?

EVE: No, she never turned up to India Gate. You need to come home, Dad is losing it. I think the embassy rang him.

CAMERON: (O.S) That's where I am now. I'm at Jake's. His parents have been on the phone all morning to Amira's Mum. Apparently the marines have been called.

ROB: (O.S) Is that your brother? Tell him to come home now!

EVE: Did you hear that? The marines?!

CAMERON: (O.S) She's the ambassador's kid, Eve. I'll get a cab now, okay?

EVE: Cam? She'll be fine, right?

CAMERON: (O.S) Eve, I'll see you soon. Keep calling her.

The call cuts out. EVE looks frantic.

EVE's phone rings again, it's MORITZ.

EVE: Have you heard from her?

MORITZ: (O.S) Eve?

It sounds like he's crying.

EVE: Babe?

MORITZ: Eve, I didn't go home this morning.

EVE: Where are you? Are you okay?

MORITZ: I'm... I'm at the German Embassy.

EVE: What's going on?

MORITZ: I went to see her. Just for an hour and...

EVE: Moritz?

MORITZ: (O.S) I can't really talk, my parents just got back.

EVE: What's happened?

MORITZ: I wouldn't hurt her, Eve. Okay?

EVE: Moritz?

MORITZ: I was only there for an hour, she was fine.

Someone shouts on the other end of the line then the phone cuts out.

Georgia Nelson is a playwright and emerging screenwriter, recently working with BBC Short Stuff and Balloon Productions.