Original subtitles

What do I want for Christmas? I want to get to know you, Notebook Boy.

Take me somewhere special, someplace in the city that feels like you.

The most me isn't a place, Lily.

It's a time.

Be inside Grand Central Terminal before the first train arrives.

I know it's early, but I promise…

it is worth it.

There are few moments when you can find stillness

in the middle of the city,

when you can enjoy the heart of New York without the crush of people.

Tell me what you see.

I see the arch over the windows.

It's still dark outside.

But in here, the sky is lit up with constellations.

The world feels big and small and all mine.

Hello!

Enjoy it while it lasts. People ruin everything.

It's your turn.

Hey, dude, look up.

Thank you very much. Bye-bye.

Next.

-Hey. -Here you go.

I'll see ya. Appreciate it.

Now, I know you like stillness,

but you don't have to get up so early to find it.

You just need a lesson from my cousin in Central Park.

He's a Zen master. He can tune out any kind of noise.

If you can last ten minutes doing what he does, leave the notebook

and your next dare with him, and our game can continue.

- Come on, buddy, blink. - Take a picture with this fool.

And one more thing. It's time I knew your name.

Fair is fair.

Dear Lily, I value fairness,

but I can't give you my name.

It's too particular. It'd be way too easy to figure out who I am.

But I will give you a clue. My name is a connector of words.

Now that I am starving from trying not to pummel snarky preteens,

let's get a snack.

Find the cart at 72nd and 2nd and ask for Lot's Wife.

Ooh, that's a lot of salt. I'm supposed to eat this thing?

Okay, was that my punishment for asking your name?

Because you can be as salty as you want.

I'm not giving up.

So, a connector of words.

Is your name "Or" or "And"? Andy?

Yeah, I'm gonna call you Andy.

So, Andy, your favorite treats are salty.

Thanks.

Mine are very sweet.

Thank you.

I know you claim to hate Christmas, but to me,

it's the sweetest time of the year.

So, enjoy some Christmas cannolis and tell me about your best Christmas.

I know even you have at least one.

First things first, I am very much not an Andy.

Andys are gullible, indiscriminate in their taste.

Andy would never have found you in the Salinger section of the Strand.

As for your dare,

I was ten years old.

My mom and dad

told me I was gonna have two Christmases that year.

Two trees, two sets of presents.

I was so excited until they told me they were getting divorced.

And that year, I only asked Santa for one thing,

for my parents to get back together.

Look, I survived, but my best Christmas turned out to be the last time

I believed in Santa or miracles

or parents who tell you the truth.

Enough about me. Misery loves company, Lil.

Tell me about your worst Christmas.

I know even you have at least one.

Worst Christmas? Try this year.

My parents are in Fiji, my grandpa's in Florida.

He says he goes there for the oranges, but he's really visiting

his bleach-blonde girlfriend. Don't get me started.

So, I'd like to say my worst Christmas is this one.

Except, that would be a lie.

You told me something personal, something that hurt.

So, I guess I owe you the same.

My worst Christmas was the year of the friendship bracelets

in middle school.

I begged my parents to let me go to the winter dance.

I've always loved making things.

I make my own clothes.

As my great aunt, Mrs. Basil E says,

"Your clothes are your inside on your outside,

and you shouldn't leave that to mass manufacturers."

So I made friendship bracelets

as a Christmas present for everyone at the dance.

I, uh, chose the neglected fabrics

in the back of the store.

The ones no one was picking.

I figured I could relate.

Did you make me one?

This boy, I'll call him "E," never talked to me before.

I mean, my dream journal was filled

with conversations I hoped we'd have one day.

I had such a crush on him. Everybody did.

And here he was, demanding one of my creations.

All his friends were watching, and I thought, "This is my moment."

"This is when it all comes together."

Can you believe her?

That girl is so weird.

Until that moment, I honestly thought I fit in.

That I'd always fit in.

All I had to do was be me.

After that, I started to feel like Alice in Wonderland,

like school was full of all these rules that didn't make sense.

Like, if you want people to like you, don't be yourself.

Hey there, Lily-bear.

Ah, these children…

They don't understand you.

Let's get ice cream.

And, okay, being myself

hasn't won me giant parties full of friends.

I don't really go to parties

or get invited to them.

What I do, apparently, is unload embarrassing childhood traumas

to a stranger in a notebook.

I guess it's easier to admit this stuff to someone you've never met.

Maybe I've scared you off, but, if not, and I hope not,

leave your next dare in Central Park…

with the patron saint of weird girls.

Honestly, the first thing that I wrote was how I wanted to go back in time

and just end the evil little twerp who called her weird.

I described the whole thing, like exactly how I would do it,

which actually included a plan for a fairly credible time machine.

But I didn't want her to think I was a Cro-Magnon idiot,

so then I threw it out.

Oh, it's so cute how protective you are

over your paper girlfriend.

-She's not my girlfriend. -She's… she's kind of your girlfriend, no?

No. Just a game, Boomer.

-Pretty sure she's your girlfriend. -No, no. Stop that, stop that.

Hey, hey, hey. Dov, Yohnny, don't be tearing stuff off.

-Yo, this shit's old. -Dov, come on, man, you're littering.

Man, I'm making way for the new.

-This is time-sensitive, brother. -You guys playing a show?

Secret show?

Seventh night of Hanukkah.

Uh, guys, you left off the address.

Underground show, bro.

Yohnny's beautifully xeroxed photo of a loaf of challah is a beacon

to all the kooks and weirdos who follow the Challah Back Boys.

Believe me, they'll get it.

This is tonight?

Did I not just say the seventh night of Hanukkah?

- No, I heard you say it. Seventh-- - Hey.

-I need this. -Are you coming?

No.

-Goyim are welcome. -Here.

I knew he wasn't coming, but I get it, though.

Weird is cool, Lily, and I am gonna prove it.

Happy Hanukkah.

It's a punk show.

A Jewish punk show?

Jewcore?

I love New York.

You have to help me get out of this.

Um, I could tell him I'm sick. I… I could tell him I got bit by a spider.

No, that's stupid. You could tell him I got bit by a spider.

Or you could just go.

I can't.

-Why? -Because it's two in the morning.

That sounds like an excuse.

Because I'll do something stupid and embarrassing, and then he'll realize

that I'm not the girl in his head, and he'll stop writing to me.

Okay. You have done a lot of dares for this guy already.

What is so different now?

I guess… I'm sort of starting to like him.

What if I ruin everything?

Oh, hey, Lily.

Hey, Benny.

-Oh, this comforter is giving me lovies. -Right?

-Can we take it to the roof? -Yeah.

-You guys are sleeping on the roof again? -It is very cold but extremely romantic.

-It's like we're camping in Antarctica. -It is. You're so smart.

-You're so smart. -You're smart.

Or you could come with me.

And leave the house?

My sister's nervous about clubbing.

- What's wrong? You don't like clubbing? - I've just never been.

-Wh… what do you do for fun? -Um--

She sews her own clothes and plays board games with Grandpa.

Please make her into a teenager, Benny.

Don't worry, honey. I got this. Lily, I know everything about clubbing.

Allow Benny to prepare you mentally and fabulously.

Will it hurt?

Let's start with the outfit. You make your own clothes. Why?

I like to express myself.

Perfect.

You need something that's you but bigger, sexier.

What's something you've always wanted to wear, but you've never had the guts?

Oh, my God. Scandalous.

I found it at a thrift store, and I've been fixing it up.

But I would never wear this in public.

-I wouldn't. I couldn't. -Honey.

Tonight's the night.

Who are you?

Lily?

Oh, my God. It's you.

I'm Lily.

You're Lily?

Oh, no. Oh, no.

Wait. Where are you going?

No, no, no. Go… go play board games with your grandpa, Lily.

You do not belong here.

-What? -It's no wonder you need this thing.

Nobody wants to know you in real life.

Can you believe her? That girl is so weird.

So weird, so weird.

No, no, no.

Oh.

This night is gonna change your life.

Come on.

Trust me.

If you're staring at challah, congratulations, you made it.

Hi, I'm looking for a club.

- What's your drag, bubela? - Sorry?

What's bringing you down on this fine evening?

Does something have to bring me down?

It does if you want to get inside.

Are you telling me that all's right in your world?

-It's Christmas, and my parents are gone. -Oh, my word. Sweetie, I am so sorry.

-How long since they passed? -Oh, no, no, no.

-They're not dead. They're in Fiji. -Girl, get out of here.

No, no, no, no. Wait. I have to get in there.

-No, you don't. -I'm meeting someone.

Not in there you're not.

No, but the guy in there is gonna get me to this other guy, and…

I don't wanna play board games with my grandpa for the rest of my life.

Then give me some pain. I need a real drag. What is so important--

I've never been kissed.

-How old are you? -I'm 17.

Oy.

Okay.

Girl, get down there and rectify your situation.

-Thank you. -Down the rabbit hole.

Now, go get weird, Lily.

Excuse you. Rude.

- Oh, sorry. - Hey!

That's my friend.

-No, I was just-- -You know what?

We're not putting up with Tiffany's shit,

and we're not putting up with yours.

Hey! Look what you did.

I just got that drink.

- Hey! - Seriously?

Oh, really?

What the hell?

I gotta pee. Hurry up!

Get out. Now!

Where's my Maccabees?

A little Hanukkah primer in case you slept through Hebrew school.

So back in the second century,

a band of Jewish rebels were driven from their temple,

but they rose up. They took it back,

and they partied for eight straight nights!

And that's the spirit of Hanukkah.

Rising up against your oppressors, not letting other people define you.

What's more punk than that?

So are you ready to punch oppression in the freaking face?

Let's challah!

Lily?

Oh, my God, Aryn?

What are you doing here?

Are you kidding? This music's lit.

What are you doing here?

It's… complicated.

Well, it's cool seeing you out.

Sick boots.

Sweetie, you are not gonna get kissed

on the sidelines, okay?

-Come on. -No.

No, come on. Excuse me, coming through.

Mazel, mazel. Coming through.

You show them what you got, okay?

Yeah, guys! Yeah!

Yo, yo. Red notebook. That's our girl.

Bitch.

That's my crown.

Lily?

-Lily. -Oh, my God.

Notebook Boy.

It's Edgar Thibaud, from middle school.

I… I knew it was you. I… It's so random seeing you here.

Hey, dope moves.

You saw all that?

Did you bring a notebook to a club?

You are so weird.

That girl is so weird.

So weird.

You are so weird.

So weird.

So weird.

Lily, Lily, wait!

I failed you, Notebook Boy.

I failed you, and I failed Hanukkah.

I didn't stand up to my oppressor,

and I forgot to leave the notebook behind.

No.

So how are you gonna find me now?

You're not, that's how.

And… and you shouldn't, because I'm not just the weird girl.

I'm a loser.

Okay, it's four in the morning.

-Go, go, go. -Please pick up. Please pick up.

- I swear, I don't know where she is. - …leave a message.

Grandpa! Um, I think someone broke into the house,

and they're attacking Langston--

Oranges?

Oh, no.

Grandpa. You're home.

You're grounded. Forever!