The summer of 1995 was the hottest summer in years.
The single of the season was Seal's "Kiss from a Rose,"
and Jim Carrey was the biggest star in Hollywood.
Michael Jordan, back from his stint in baseball,
helped the Bulls reach the postseason, though they'd fall to the Magic in six.
On top of the heat that summer, the cicadas had awoken
from their 17-year hibernation and were covering everything--
mailboxes, parked cars,
tree trunks, and trampolines.
Everyone got used to the noise.
Eventually, the cicadas retreated to the forest,
and our summer continued.
In June, Owen Cooper, a Catholic school kid
- from the neighboring community... - Whoa!
Got loaded with his girlfriend on whiskey and pills.
He was found the next morning...
- Owen! - Face down in the shallow end.
On Fourth of July,
the 80-year-old Frank Lloyd Wright house by the library burned down.
It was built in 1908,
and FDR was said to have stayed there once while on the campaign trail.
Our town was put under a dark spell in the summer of 1995.
It began with a heat wave and didn't end until six months later
when the Monroe sisters were finally dead.
I observed it all from my bicycle.
I was 15 years old.
Hello?
Sorry.
Did you take my CK One again?
You know, just because a fragrance works for me,
it doesn't mean it'll work for you.
I think your fragrance would be more like grungy, Bohemian weirdo.
Don't ever touch my record player again.
Don't touch my things without asking again.
Hey, Chrissy.
Fuck you, freak.
Lives of ordinary people...
Sweetheart, where you going?
In the end, all that really counts...
I'm gonna go do homework with Brad at the library.
Curfew is 10:45, young lady.
I'll be home at 11:00.
Love ya!
- Hi. - Hi.
You don't have to worry.
- My parents are watching television. - Oh, my God.
Your parents are watching TV? No way.
That's what happens when you stop having sex.
Yeah, monogamy's a bitch.
Mm-hmm.
What's the news?
News is not good for you.
You got a D on your "Crime and Punishment" essay.
Sorry.
Mr. Carpenter was the young, hip English teacher
who let kids in class talk about movies, philosophy,
and things unrelated to the text.
When Kurt Cobain shot himself the previous year,
Mr. Carpenter played "Nevermind" on repeat all day
and didn't say a word in any of his classes.
He was the teacher all the guys wanted to be
and all the girls wanted to be with.
And he was indeed with Chrissy Monroe.
I--I think I'm leaving Kate.
What?
Why?
Because I love you.
This is where you would maybe get excited.
- Ideally, say anything. - No, no, no, no, no.
I, um--I--I...
I...
- I think it's great. - You think it's great?
I think it's great. I think it's great.
Okay, well--okay.
- But is this really what you want? - I don't care what people say.
I mean, we'll go somewhere else if we have to.
- Okay, okay. - Yes, yes?
- Okay, yes. - I love you.
I love you.
Oh, Jesus.
Don't--
I have a handgun pointed at the back of your head.
Start the car and drive.
- What--okay, okay, okay, okay, okay. - Start the fucking car and drive.
It's okay.
Look, man, you want money or something?
You can have--welcome to whatever I have.
Turn left here.
In a quarter mile, there will be a gravel road.
Turn left onto it.
Stop.
Turn the car off, and leave the radio on.
Turn on the brights.
Now you're going to get out.
Keep your hands where I can see them, and stand in front of the car.
Chrissy, let's just do what he says and get it over with, okay?
Stop.
Take each other's clothes off.
Chrissy, babe... It's gonna be okay.
I swear to God, okay? It's a stupid game.
Just--let's do what he says. We'll go home.
Mm-hmm.
It's okay. Okay.
Ah, sorry.
Okay.
Now kiss each other.
Okay. Okay.
Now touch her.
Come on--
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