Title: Fouetté & Football

Boots

Logline: A burnt-out ballet prodigy finds his passion reignited by a fiery football star who

is forced into ballet by her mother, leading to a chaotic romance where pirouettes meet

penalty kicks and insults fly faster than a grand jeté.

Characters:

● LEO (18): A national ballet champion. Handsome, bold and confident on stage,

but privately introspective and losing his spark. Hides a shy side beneath a cool

exterior.

● MAYA (16): A brilliant, aggressive striker on her school's top-ranked football

team. Energetic, fiercely loyal, and possesses a Gen Z wit sharp enough to cut

glass. Unapologetically herself.

● MS. ANTOINETTE (50s): The formidable, dramatic, and passionate director of the

prestigious "Grande Rose Academy of Ballet."

● CHLOE (18): Leo's primary ballet rival. Poised, technically perfect, and intensely

jealous of anyone near Leo's level.

● MAYA’S MOM (40s): A woman of sudden, intense, and comedic convictions

DETAILED DESCRIPTION

1. LEO - The Ballet Prodigy

Anime key visual of Leo, an 18-year-old male ballet prodigy. He has

elegant, sharp features, deep hazel eyes, and messy espresso-brown hair

that falls across his forehead. He has a long, lean, and powerfullysculpted dancer's physique, visible in his black ballet tights and a white

fitted shirt. His posture is impeccable but his expression is subtly

distant and brooding, a mix of confidence and hidden shyness. Anime style,

dynamic lighting in a dance studio.

2. MAYA - The Football Striker

Anime key visual of Maya, a 16-year-old female football striker. She has a

lively, expressive face with warm honey-brown eyes and a determined smile.

Her hair is a sun-streaked dirty blonde, pulled back in a messy but

practical ponytail with stray strands. She has a compact, powerful, and

athletic build with strong, defined legs. She wears a football jersey and

is covered in subtle grass stains, holding a soccer ball. She stands with

a confident, grounded stance. Anime style, vibrant and energetic.

3. MS. ANTOINETTE - The Ballet Director

Anime character sheet of Ms. Antoinette, a severe and elegant woman in her

50s. She has a lean, ageless face with sharp cheekbones, piercing

steel-grey eyes, and her silver-streaked dark hair is in a flawless, tight

chignon. She wears a dark, elegant leotard and a flowing wrap skirt. Her

posture is regal and intimidating. Anime style, reminiscent of a strict

but graceful mentor archetype.

4. CHLOE - The Rival

Anime character design of Chloe, an 18-year-old female ballet rival. She

is classically beautiful with porcelain skin, large blue eyes, and

delicate features. Her flawless golden-blonde hair is in a pristine bun.

She has a willowy, slender ballerina's body and wears an expensive,

perfect black leotard and pink tights. Her expression is one of serene,

icy poise and slight jealousy. Anime style, elegant and refined.FOUTTÉ & FOOTBALL BOOTS - ACT 1

SCENE 1

INT. GRANDE ROSE ACADEMY - MAIN STUDIO - DAY

SOUND of gentle piano music (a Chopin Nocturne) plays from a speaker. The soft,

rhythmic thud of pointe shoes and bare feet on a sprung wooden floor.

Sunlight streams through massive windows, illuminating dust motes dancing in the air.

The room is mirrored wall-to-wall. About twenty advanced ballet students, lean and

graceful, are stretched at the barre, finishing a warm-up.

At the center of the room, alone, is LEO (18). He is the picture of a ballet prodigy:

focused, poised, with an effortless grace. He wears simple black tights and a white

t-shirt, both damp with sweat.

MS. ANTOINETTE (50s), elegant and severe in a black leotard and a flowing skirt, claps

her hands softly. The piano music fades.

MS. ANTOINETTE

And... repose. Beautiful, everyone. Now, let's see the adagio from the second act. Leo, if

you please.

The other students move to the sides of the room, sitting or standing to watch. This is a

ritual. Leo takes his place in the center. He closes his eyes for a moment, taking a deep

breath. But it's not a breath of concentration; it's a sigh of routine.

MS. ANTOINETTE

(Nodding to the pianist)

Maestro.

The pianist begins a slow, haunting piece. Leo begins to move. His technique is

flawless. His extensions are impossibly high, his turns are precise, his landings are

silent. Every muscle is under perfect control. He is a machine of beauty.

But his eyes... his eyes are distant. Empty. He is performing the steps, but the soul of

the dance—the yearning, the passion the music calls for—is absent. He is painting by

numbers with a master's hand, but using no color.He finishes with a held arabesque, perfectly balanced, barely breathing. The pose is

stunning.

The other students break into respectful, almost obligatory applause. They have seen

this perfection a thousand times.

Ms. Antoinette walks towards him, her head tilted. She is not applauding.

MS. ANTOINETTE

(Her voice is quiet, carrying through the silent room)

Technically, it is without flaw. Your line is impeccable. Your control... absolute.

She circles him, a critic examining a statue.

MS. ANTOINETTE

But, Leo... where are you?

Leo slowly lowers his leg. He meets her gaze in the mirror, not directly.

LEO

I'm here, Madame.

MS. ANTOINETTE

Are you? I see a brilliant dancer going through the motions. I see a student who has won

every prize, and now dances only to win the next one. But I do not see the boy who used

to dance as if the music was a fire in his bones. Where is the fire, Leo? The... passion?

The word hangs in the air. The other students look down, uncomfortable.

Leo’s confident posture wavers for a fraction of a second. The shy, uncertain boy

beneath the prodigy's armor peeks through. He looks at his reflection—the sweat, the

perfect form, the hollow eyes.

LEO

(Softly)

I don't know, Madame.

He says it with a honesty that surprises even him. He truly doesn't know. The trophies,

the accolades, they feel like weights. The studio that was once his sanctuary now feels

like a gilded cage.Ms. Antoinette studies him, her stern expression softening with a flicker of concern. She

sees it too. The void.

MS. ANTOINETTE

(To the class)

Dismissed. Leo... find it. Or all this...

(She gestures to his perfect form)

...is just noise.

The students begin to chatter softly, gathering their things. Leo remains in the center of

the empty space, alone under the bright lights. He looks at his hands, then back at his

reflection.

The applause has stopped. The music has stopped. All that's left is the silent, nagging

question.

FADE TO BLACK.

END OF ACT 1.

FOUTTÉ & FOOTBALL BOOTS - ACT 2

SCENE 1

EXT. NORTHWOOD HIGH SCHOOL SOCCER FIELD - DAY

SOUND blares in stark contrast to Act 1: the roar of a crowd, the shrill of a referee's

whistle, the thud of a ball being kicked.

The sky is overcast, a light drizzle falling, but the energy on the field is electric. The

grass is muddy, churned up by cleats. This is a semi-final match.

MAYA (16) is a force of nature. Her hair is pulled back in a messy but practical ponytail,

streaks of mud on her cheeks and jersey. She is all explosive motion, shouting

instructions, her eyes locked on the game with an intensity that is almost frightening.

MAYA

(Shouting)

WIDE, JESS! WIDE! I'm making the run!She receives a pass with a deft touch, instantly spinning away from a defender with a

move that is more street-smart agility than technical finesse.

COACH (O.S.)

Use the space, Maya! Take it!

She drives forward, a blur of red and white. Two defenders converge on her. She doesn't

slow down. At the last second, she performs a lightning-fast step-over, a feint that

sends one defender stumbling the wrong way, and then bursts between them with raw

power.

She's clear on goal. The goalie tenses, edging forward.

TEAMMATE (O.S.)

SHOOT!

But Maya takes an extra touch, baiting the goalie to commit. As the goalie dives at her

feet, she casually chips the ball. It arcs beautifully, gracefully, almost like a slow-motion

ballet leap, before dropping into the back of the net.

SOUND of the goal horn and an explosion of cheers from the stands.

Her teammates swarm her, slapping her back, hugging her. Maya’s face breaks into a

huge, unreserved grin, all teeth and joy. She is completely in her element.

MAYA

(Yelling, pumping a fist)

THAT'S HOW WE DO IT! LET'S GO!

The whistle blows for halftime. The teams trudge off the field. Maya grabs a water

bottle, squeezing it into her mouth as she walks past her cheering teammates.

JESS

(Her best friend)

That chip was filthy, Maya! Absolutely disgusting!

MAYA

(Grinning, wiping her mouth)

He bought it like I was selling the last slice of pizza. Too easy.She collapses onto the team bench, stretching her legs out, covered in mud and grass

stains. She looks utterly content, breathing in the smell of wet grass and sweat. This is

her sanctuary. This is where she makes sense.

MAYA

(To Jess, leaning back)

This is it. This is the life. Nothing but the beautiful game, you know?

Jess nods in agreement. For Maya, in this moment, nothing is missing. The passion that

Leo has lost is burning right here, bright and fierce on a muddy soccer field.

FADE TO BLACK.

END OF ACT 2.

FOUTTÉ & FOOTBALL BOOTS - ACT 3

SCENE 1

INT. MAYA'S HOUSE - KITCHEN - LATER THAT DAY

SOUND of a washing machine churning, the clatter of cleats being dropped by the back

door.

The cozy, lived-in kitchen is a stark contrast to the muddy field. Maya, now showered

and in sweats, raids the refrigerator with the ferocity of a predator. She pulls out cold

chicken, orange juice, and a tub of yogurt.

Her MOM (40s), vibrant and prone to sudden, intense hyper-fixations, sits at the kitchen

island. She's glued to her tablet, watching a documentary. On the screen, a prima

ballerina in a white swan costume executes a series of breathtaking, ethereal fouettés.

MOM

(Without looking up)

There's leftover lasagna, honey. Don't eat all that cold chicken, you'll get a stomachache.MAYA

(Mouth full)

Carbs are for pre-game, Mom. This is post-game fuel. My muscles are screaming.

Maya leans against the counter, devouring the chicken. She glances at the tablet.

MAYA

Ugh, ballet. So much standing on your toes. Looks painful.

MOM

(Her eyes wide with fascination)

It's not pain, Maya, it's art. Look at the strength in her legs! The discipline!

The documentary cuts to a slow-motion shot of the ballerina's powerful calves and

thighs flexing as she leaps.

The Mom freezes. She hits pause. The ballerina is suspended mid-air, muscles defined

like a anatomy chart. The Mom's gaze slowly drifts from the screen to Maya's own legs,

propped up on a chair, still muscular and defined from her game.

A look of cosmic, life-altering revelation dawns on her face.

MOM

(Whispering)

Oh. My. Goodness.

MAYA

What? Did you finally beat level 347 on your candy game?

MOM

(Slamming her hand on the island)

Maya! Your calves!

Maya jumps, nearly dropping her yogurt.

MAYA

What about them? They work. They help me run fast and kick things. It's their whole job.

MOM

No, no, no! Look!

(She points frantically between the tablet and Maya's legs)

The power in your thighs when you take a shot! The explosive force in your calves whenyou jump for a header! It’s not for football... It’s for ballet! It’s your destiny! I’ve been

blind!

Maya stares at her mother as if she's just announced she's moving to Mars to become a

beekeeper.

MAYA

Mom. Are you having a stroke? Should I call 911? The only plié I know is when I’m tying

my cleats. My "destiny" is the state finals, not prancing around in a tutu.

MOM

(Waving a dismissive hand)

Pish-posh, soccer! That's just a phase! This is a calling! I saw it in a documentary! It's

scientifically perfect! Your body type! The power-to-grace ratio!

MAYA

The only "ratio" I care about is our win-loss ratio, which is currently fire, by the way.

You've lost the plot. Did you inhale too much oven cleaner?

(Roast #1: Target - Mom's Sanity)

MOM

(Clasping her hands together, a dreamy look in her eyes)

We need to find you a studio. A good one. Oh! I've heard of the Grande Rose Academy!

It's prestigious! I'm going to call first thing tomorrow!

MAYA

Mom, no! You can't just watch a Netflix documentary and redesign my life! This is

unhinged behavior!

But her Mom is already typing furiously into her phone, searching for the academy's

number, a woman possessed.

MAYA

(To herself, grabbing her food and retreating)

Great. First a yellow card for a rough tackle, now my mom wants to send me to ballet

prison. This is the worst hat-trick ever.

She shakes her head, heading for the safety of her room, utterly unaware that her life is

about to be turned upside down.

FADE TO BLACK. END OF ACT 3.FOUTTÉ & FOOTBALL BOOTS - ACT 4

SCENE 1

INT. GRANDE ROSE ACADEMY - MS. ANTOINETTE'S OFFICE - DAY

The office is a temple to ballet. Framed posters of historic performances line the walls.

A glass case holds worn-out pointe shoes from famous dancers. The air smells of old

wood and ambition.

MAYA sits slumped in a plush velvet chair, looking profoundly out of place in her hoodie

and jeans. Her arms are crossed, a defensive scowl plastered on her face.

Her MOM, however, is perched on the edge of her seat, leaning forward towards MS.

ANTOINETTE, who sits behind a large, ornate desk, steepling her fingers.

MOM

...and her explosive power! It's not just kicking a ball, it's kinetic potential! I saw it in a

documentary! Her physique is a diamond in the rough! She just needs the right... cutter.

MAYA

(Muttering under her breath)

I'm not a rock, I'm a person. A person who wants to be on a field right now.

Ms. Antoinette’s gaze, sharp and assessing, shifts from the passionate mother to the

sullen daughter. She doesn't seem impressed, but she is intrigued.

MS. ANTOINETTE

"Kinetic potential." An interesting phrase, Mrs. Jones. We typically look for students who

have... a calling. Not those who are... drafted.

MOM

Oh, it's a calling! It's just a calling she hasn't answered yet! It's like a phone ringing in

another room! We just have to help her find the phone!

MAYA

The phone is broken. And on fire.

(Roast #2: Target - The Situation)

Just then, the office door is slightly ajar, and LEO walks past, on his way to the studio.

He’s in practice clothes, a towel around his neck. He overhears the commotion andpauses, peering in. His eyes land on Maya, slouched in the chair with an expression of

pure, undiluted misery. A faint, amused smirk touches his lips.

LEO

(Quietly, to himself, but loud enough to be heard)

A jock in ballet slippers? This should be amusing. I give her one day before she breaks

something. Probably the barre.

Maya’s head snaps up. Her eyes, which were glazed with boredom, now sharpen into

laser-focused points. The scowl vanishes, replaced by a look of cool, analytical

mockery. She sizes him up in a single glance—the perfect posture, the condescending

smirk, the towel draped just so.

MAYA

(Her voice is a dry, deadpan counterpoint to his smirk)

Well, well. Talk about a plot twist. The prince charming has a resting ballet face. Bet

your personality is as stiff as your turnout. Do you always listen in on private

conversations, or am I just special?

(Roast #3: Target - Leo's Demeanor & Manners)

Leo’s smirk falters. He’s used to awe or rivalry, not this immediate, precise dismantling.

He’s momentarily speechless.

Ms. Antoinette, however, watches this exchange with a newfound glint in her eye. The

girl has fire. A chaotic, unrefined fire, but fire nonetheless. She looks from the prodigy in

the doorway, momentarily thrown, to the football player who just verbally disarmed him.

MS. ANTOINETTE

(A decisive nod)

Very well.

She stands, addressing Maya’s Mom, but her eyes are on Maya.

MS. ANTOINETTE

A one-month trial. She will attend beginner-intermediate classes three times a week. I

make no promises. But... I am curious to see this "kinetic potential" for myself.

The Mom beams in victory. Maya looks like she’s just been sentenced to hard labor.

MOM

Oh, thank you, Madame! You won't regret it!MAYA

(To Leo, as she stands to leave)

Try not to strain anything looking so superior. Wouldn't want you to pull a muscle

smugging.

(Roast #4: Target - Leo's Attitude)

She brushes past him in the doorway, not giving him a chance to reply. Leo watches her

go, his expression a mix of irritation and genuine, piqued curiosity. The empty feeling

from the studio is, for a moment, forgotten. Replaced by annoyance, and the faintest

spark of something else.

LEO

(To himself, frowning)

Who is that?

FADE TO BLACK.

END OF ACT 4.

FOUTTÉ & FOOTBALL BOOTS - ACT 5

SCENE 1

INT. GRANDE ROSE ACADEMY - MAIN STUDIO - DAY

The beginner-intermediate class is a hive of activity. Young dancers in various states of

grace and awkwardness are scattered across the room. The air is less intense than in

Leo's advanced class, but the pressure to be perfect is still palpable.

MAYA stands near the back, a stark contrast to the sea of black leotards and pink tights.

She wears her football shorts under a sheer ballet skirt she was forced to buy, and her

brand-new, stiff-looking ballet slippers. She looks like she’s wearing a costume for a play

she never auditioned for.

The instructor, a young, earnest man named MR. DAVID, claps his hands.MR. DAVID

Alright, everyone! At the barre, please. We’ll begin with pliés in first position. Remember,

heels together, toes out. It’s a rotation from the hip, not the knee.

Maya grips the barre like it’s a lifeline on a sinking ship. She attempts the position. Her

feet form a vague V-shape, but it’s weak, unstable. Her body is coiled like a spring, her

stance too wide, too aggressive. It looks less like a ballet position and more like she’s

bracing for a tackle.

MR. DAVID

Gentle, Maya. It’s a bend, not a squat. Soft knees.

She tries again, forcing her knees out. The movement is jerky, unnatural. A few students

nearby try to hide their smiles. CHLOE, who is in this class to "perfect her basics,"

watches from the front with undisguised contempt. She executes a perfect, fluid plié,

her back ramrod straight.

CHLOE

(Whispering to her friend)

Looks like she’s trying to stomp out a fire. A very, very small fire.

Her friend giggles. Maya’s ears turn red, but she keeps her eyes fixed on the mirror, jaw

clenched.

SCENE 2

The class moves to the center for simple port de bras (arm movements). Mr. David

demonstrates a gentle, flowing motion.

MR. DAVID

Arms as if you’re holding a large beach ball. Soft, graceful.

Maya’s arms move with the rigid, purposeful energy of a traffic conductor. Her "beach

ball" looks like she’s heaving a medicine ball. Her focus is so intense she’s practically

glaring at her own reflection.

It’s at this moment that LEO slips into the studio. He leans against the doorframe, arms

crossed, his advanced class having ended. He watches the scene, his earlier

amusement returning. He sees Maya’s struggle, her raw, un-channeled power. A faint,

curious smile plays on his lips. It’s not a cruel smile; it’s the smile of a scientist

observing a fascinating new specimen.Maya catches his reflection in the mirror. Her eyes narrow.

MR. DAVID

Maya, your arms... think of swans. Gentle swans.

MAYA

(Without breaking eye contact with Leo's reflection)

Sorry, Mr. David. I’m more familiar with the mating rituals of geese. They’re a lot more

aggressive. And loud.

A few students snicker. Mr. David looks confused.

Leo’s smile widens just a fraction. He raises an eyebrow, challenging her.

MAYA

(Louder, directly addressing Leo's reflection)

What? Never seen a person with functional quadriceps before? Or are you just admiring

the view from your high horse? Must be nice up there, judging the peasants.

(Roast #5: Target - Leo's Perceived Superiority)

The entire class goes silent. Mr. David looks startled. Chloe looks utterly scandalized.

Leo, however, doesn’t look offended. He pushes off the doorframe, his smile turning into

a genuine, if small, grin.

LEO

Functional, yes. Applicable? We’ll see.

He gives a slight, infuriatingly graceful nod and exits the studio, leaving Maya fuming,

the entire class staring at her, and the distinct feeling that a war has just been declared.

FADE TO BLACK.

END OF ACT 5.