6.
WALTER, JR.
What's--that?
SKYLER Sizzle-lean. We're watching our cholesterol. WALTER, JR. Not--me! I want--bacon! SKYLER Eat it. Walter, Jr. picks at his breakfast, annoyed. WALTER, JR. What's this--even--made of?! He looks to his dad for backup. Walt shrugs, ambivalent. WALT Eat it.
EXT. HIGH SCHOOL - MORNING
J.P. Wynne High School. Home of the Fightin' Skyhawks. Two thousand-plus students, many of them in overflow trailers. Into the faculty lot motors a 1991 Nissan wagon. It was a piece of shit when it rolled off the assembly line, and has not improved with age. It parks in a handicapped space. A handicapped placard hangs from the rear-view. Walt climbs out from behind the wheel, checks his watch. He's late. Walter, Jr. struggles to get out of the passenger side. He fumbles with his crutches and his backpack. WALT All set? (off his son's nod) Alright, see you at home. Walt grabs his briefcase and hurries toward the building, leaving his son to work it out for himself -- which is, again, exactly how Walter, Jr. wants it. INT. HIGH SCHOOL - CLASSROOM - DAY Hours later. This is a chemistry classroom -- black-topped lab tables with gas spigots. Walt is lecturing to seniors.
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