Where No One Can Find Me

SCENE 1

A classroom. There are two desks center stage—a girl, Andrea, sits in the one, writing something on a piece of paper. A second or two after the lights come up, a boy, Nathan, sits down next to her, letting his backpack fall noisily to the floor.

NATHAN: Hi Andrea.

ANDREA: Hello Nathan.

NATHAN: Please, call me Nate. What are you writing?

ANDREA:  A poem. What do you want, Nathan?

NATHAN: Um…do you have a partner?

ANDREA: Yes, I do. You’re sitting on him. His name is Bob and he is invisible. [Beat] No, I do not have a partner, why?

NATHAN: Ha ha, you’re a funny girl. Seriously, though—Mike went with Jamie because he thought I was going to be out sick today like I was yesterday. And Brittany already promised Samantha that she’d work with her. I don’t have a partner. Can I work with you?

ANDREA: Do I have a choice?

NATHAN: No, not really. Mr. Smith won’t let you work alone—trust me. I already asked him if I could and he said no.

ANDREA: Well, that said…let’s get started. We need to write up a summary of the symbolism in the book first...

NATHAN: Which book was it again?

ANDREA: Brave New World. Didn’t you read it?

NATHAN: Yeah…a little…I kinda skimmed it.

ANDREA: Do you have any idea what it’s about?

NATHAN: It’s about that guy…um…and he did that…stuff…and…[beat] No, I have no idea.

ANDREA: It’s sort of like 1984. Do you remember what happened in 1984?

NATHAN: Uh… “Ghostbusters” came out in theaters…?

ANDREA: No…I’m not talking about—

NATHAN: Wait, I know this—Indira Gandhi was assassinated…?

ANDREA: You didn’t read it, did you?

NATHAN: Hold on a second…I’ve got it! Reagan was re-elected!

ANDREA: If only we were doing a project for history class instead.

NATHAN: Yeah, I wish. I hate English. History is fact—it’s not as debatable as some of the stuff we have to read. Books are filled with all this symbolism crap—just a load of bias. You know what? I bet most writers don’t actually try to include symbolism in their books at all—teachers like ours just analyze the books to death and fabricate their own false symbols. None of it was there to begin with.

ANDREA: I strongly disagree with you.

NATHAN: You just don’t get it, do you Andrea?

ANDREA: Get what?

NATHAN: School is a dead end. We are never going to use anything they teach us later on in life. It’s worthless. It’s all lies. The point is…there’s no point at all.

ANDREA: I think Huxley might agree with you on that one. I mean…about where society is headed, anyway. Before we know it mankind will have lost all perspective; purpose will be beyond his reach. Just pull out some pills and knock yourself out for a couple of weeks—paradise is only in your mind.

NATHAN: Who? What? I didn’t understand a word you just said.

ANDREA: Paradise is only in your mind…that’s catchy. I may use it for a poem someday. [Beat] Never mind. Never mind what I said. You really didn’t read either of the books?

NATHAN: I told you—I skimmed Brave New World.

ANDREA: And you retained…?

NATHAN: …very little.

ANDREA: And that “very little” is…?

NATHAN: Um…the title.

ANDREA: Well…don’t worry about it. I’ll have the whole project done by Monday.

NATHAN: Are you sure? You’d really want to do it all yourself?

ANDREA: I had wanted to work alone anyway…don’t worry about it.  

NATHAN: Well…if you insist. I mean, I won’t force you into letting me help you or anything, if you don’t want me to. I’d only get in the way anyway.

ANDREA: Well…I already know the title of the book…so, it looks like you’ve contributed all that you can.

NATHAN: Thanks, Andrea. I appreciate it.

ANDREA: Of course you do.

NATHAN: [Getting up] I’m gonna go get started on my math homework, then. You’re a helluva kid, Andrea. A helluva kid.

ANDREA: Thanks, Holden.

NATHAN: I told you…call me Nate.

ANDREA: You didn’t read The Catcher in the Rye either. Did you?

NATHAN: The catcher in the what now?

ANDREA: Have fun with your math.

NATHAN: Have fun with the English project.

Nathan exits. Lights fade.






SCENE 2

The set is like a dream; shapes and colors are random and irrelevant. The landscape is not of this earth. Andrea kneels center stage and holds a piece of paper in her hand. A boy sits behind her, far upstage. He listens as she reads.

ANDREA: [Reading a poem]

Misty as a river
Misty as the sea
Misty as the rain that falls inside of me
Cold as darkness
Unfriendly as stone
Visions of emptiness won’t leave me alone
Like a flower
Gone and dead
Like a bullet to the head
Can you save my soul?

Do you hear me when I cry?
Can you see me on my knees?
Or do you just pass by
Leaving me to plead
With my Creator
The Redeemer

Please

Can you help me?
Can you save my soul?
Can you help me?
Make me once more whole?

When all I need is water
The earth dries into sand
When the sun grows even hotter
Who will lead me to shaded land?

Do I jump off of a building?
Do I cut myself until I bleed?
Do I do what I am willing
To satisfy this need?

I need to die

Can you save my soul?
BOY: I like it. You paint a good picture.

ANDREA: [turning to look at him] Thanks…thank you. You’re the only one who likes it.

BOY: Why’s that?

ANDREA: It scared everyone else.

BOY: Nothing can scare me. [Pause] Besides, what do they know about poetry? I like how you use rhyme in free verse. It’s quite lovely.

ANDREA: [Pause] Do you write poetry?

BOY: The best there is!

ANDREA: Aren’t you modest. [Pause] May I hear some?

BOY: Of course! [Snaps fingers]

The lights dim and a spotlight shows upon two girls that stand off to stage left. Their names are Rachel and Jen.

RACHEL: Answer me, Jen! What’s going on with you?!

JEN: Oh, nothing Rachel, absolutely nothing.

RACHEL: That’s bull! I know something’s up, and you better tell me why you’ve been acting like such a bitch lately!

JEN: Oh, I’m the one that’s been acting like a bitch?

RACHEL: Just tell me what’s wrong!

JEN: Alright, you want to know what’s wrong? I’ll tell you what’s wrong! [Pause] You’re perfect! That’s what’s wrong!

RACHEL: What?!

JEN: I’m so sick of hearing every day how great your boyfriend is; how much money you spent on your new car, how you’ve been on highest honors all year, how many solos you’ve gotten in band—I’m just so sick of it!  

RACHEL: Excuse me for doing well! I’m so terribly sorry I’ve offended you by having a decent life!

JEN: You know, some of us are human! Some of us wake up every morning realizing that nothing we do will ever be good enough because people like you will always be better!

RACHEL: Well, it’s a pretty easy goal to accomplish!

JEN: Go to Hell!

BOY: [Snaps fingers; the scene pauses, lights come back up.] What do you think?

ANDREA: I think that’s horrible!

BOY: [Laughing] Thank you.

ANDREA: You never cease to disturb me.

BOY: You flatter me. I’m just doing my job.

ANDREA: [Looking at the girls.] Are they just going to…stay like that?

BOY: Why do you ask? Do you want ’em to leave?

ANDREA: No, I just—how do you do that?

The boy snaps his fingers; the girls unfreeze and walk off stage.

BOY: What can I say? It’s a gift.

ANDREA: Do you write those sorts of poems often?

BOY: Yeah, quite often, actually. You’d be surprised. I love every minute of it.

ANDREA: Have you written anything…brighter?

BOY: Have you?

ANDREA: Well…no…

BOY: Neither have I.

ANDREA: Why not?

BOY: I could ask you the same thing.

ANDREA: Well, I asked you first! [Pause] I was only asking…I mean, I feel that I have a good reason to write depressing material—after all, I am alive. There’s nothing more depressing than that.

BOY: [Mumbled] I don’t think you have it all that bad.  

ANDREA: What?

BOY: Nothing. I didn’t say anything.

ANDREA: Yes, you did. What did you say?

BOY: Seriously, it wasn’t anything. I just said that being alive ain’t that bad.

ANDREA: Oh, yes it is! And ‘ain’t’ isn’t a word!

BOY: It’s in the dictionary, look it up.

ANDREA: It’s slang; it’s not a real word.

BOY: I was the last to die.

ANDREA: I did look it up once, and it stated clearly that—[does a double take] what?

BOY: You heard me.

ANDREA: What do you mean you were ‘the last to die’?

BOY: My mom went first, then my dad and my sister. And then I died.

ANDREA: How? [Pause] Never mind, let’s not talk about it. When I met you I promised myself I’d never ask—that we’d never get on the subject. I figured that if I were a ghost I wouldn’t want to talk about it.  

BOY: Why not? What harm does it do? Regret, attachment to material objects, attachment to people beyond your reach—those are things of the living. I don’t really care. My mom died from ovarian cancer when I was just a kid. My dad and sister died in a car accident coming back from one of her dance recitals.

ANDREA: Oh my God…I’m so sorry… [Pause] but—but…how did you die?

BOY: Don’t be sorry, you had nothing to do with it.

ANDREA: What happened to you?

BOY: Well, I tried a lot of things. I tried overdosing on pills one time; I didn’t take enough, though—it just made me vomit a lot and get a migraine. Then, another time, I decided to lie down in the middle of the road. I walked out onto the street and just lay down. There’s just something about looking up into that never-ending sky, hoping that maybe that’s where you’ll wind up…then being snapped back to reality by car horns and screaming Texan truck drivers. I was staying with my aunt at the time and she dragged me back into the house. She was very Italian. And very Catholic. And very angry. (Which isn’t a good mix.) I got a whole lecture about how if I had died, it would’ve killed her. And if I had killed her: who would…I don’t know…show up to church when it wasn’t Christmas or Easter? [Pause] It went in one ear and out the other. When she went out one day for groceries I drew a bath for myself. I unplugged the toaster and brought it with me…   

ANDREA: Oh my God!

BOY: [Pause] We’re friends, aren’t we, Andrea? We can be honest with each other, right?

ANDREA: Yeah…

BOY: I chickened out… I couldn’t do it.

ANDREA: So, what happened? How did you die?!

BOY: I had this friend…and that was rare—I didn’t have many friends. I didn’t like getting out of the house, let alone getting out of bed. I was constantly depressed. So when I told my aunt about this friend and how I wanted to visit him, she practically pushed me out the door. She was really happy that I wanted to visit with another person. So I went to this friend’s house and he showed me around, because I had never been there before. He even showed me his mom’s gun. They had moved to my town from the city and his mom, being a single mother, had decided to purchase a gun for self-defense. I guess he liked bragging about how he had a gun in his house…well, he forgot to lock it back up…he said he had to go to the bathroom, but that he’d be right back. [Pause] Imagine! You go to take a leak, come back, and find your friend dead on the floor and your mother’s gun lying beside him.

ANDREA: Why did you do it? Why did you kill yourself?

BOY: Grief, I guess. I couldn’t take it. I couldn’t handle life—isn’t that always the reason? I didn’t stop to think how it would affect other people…my aunt, my friend…but, hey. You can’t change the past. I don’t know what regret is anymore. [Pause] Kind of cliché the way I went, though, isn’t it? I never had much imagination.  

ANDREA: …that’s awful…

BOY: Never cease to disturb you, do I?

ANDREA: …never…

A little girl, Sarah, walks on stage, looking around her worriedly. She is dressed in period clothing from c. 1940s and speaks with a British accent. (Think Hugh Edward’s performance as Piggy in the 1963 film of “Lord of the Flies”.)

SARAH: [To the Boy] Excuse me, have you seen my mother?

BOY: What does she look like?

SARAH: She’s about this tall [motions with hand] and she’s got brown hair and brown eyes and really loud shoes. Have you seen her?

BOY: I don’t believe I have.

ANDREA: I don’t think I’ve seen anyone come through here tonight at all.

BOY: Yeah, it is pretty dead around here, isn’t it?

SARAH: [to the Boy] Who are you talking to, sir?

BOY: Oh, I was just talking to myself.

SARAH: [Pause] My mother will be very worried because it’s far past my bedtime, sir, and I’m afraid I don’t know where I am.

BOY: Don’t worry; I’m sure you’ll find your way home.

SARAH: But that’s just it! I’ve been wandering around for an awfully long time, and I don’t quite remember how I got here or how I shall get out of here. I just remember seeing a very bright light and then I became lost.

ANDREA: She must be talking about that infamous bright tunnel of light…

BOY: Car headlights, more likely…[pause; emotional digression] There’s no bright tunnel of light for her…for either of us.   

SARAH: I have imaginary friends too, sir, and it’s all fine and lovely if you want to talk with them, but I’m very frightened right now! I wish you could help me.

BOY: What’s your name?

SARAH: I’m Sarah, sir.

BOY: [Mimicking] Sarahsir…

SARAH: Mother says I’m not supposed to talk to strangers, but as I said before, I’m terribly afraid and I don’t know who else to go to for help. I did see one man a little ways back, but he only glared at me. He glared at me, sir, and didn’t say a single word! Perhaps that was the most frightening of all…

BOY: I’ll tell you what, Sarah, do you see that tree over there? [Points offstage.]

SARAH: Yessir, I do.

BOY: I think I just saw your mother over there. Didn’t you hear the distinct sound of loud shoes?

SARAH: Oh, thank you sir! Thank you very much! [Running offstage in that direction] Mother, I’m over here! [Exits.]

ANDREA: There’s no tree over there, what are you talking about? And why couldn’t she see me?

BOY: First tell me something, Andrea, what year is it?

ANDREA: 2005, why?

BOY: Okay, alright…that would make me about…ten years dead. Remember that the concept of time really doesn’t exist here, but let’s just say I’ve been dead for a while…I’ve learned these things. There’s a very thin line between reality and this dimension. What if I told you that you were sitting on a crocodile?

ANDREA: But I’m not.

BOY: But if you were dead, and I told you so, you’d believe me. And you’d see it and feel it and think it as if it were true. [Pause] If I told that little girl about you, she would have seen you.

ANDREA: So why didn’t you tell her?

BOY: What, did you want to give her a heart attack or something?! I don’t think it’s possible to kill somebody twice, but you could have certainly scared the girl. It would be like a normal person strolling in the park and suddenly a ghost appears out of nowhere. You would have frightened her even more.

ANDREA: She doesn’t know she’s dead, does she?

BOY: Wow…you’re so perceptive, Andrea!

ANDREA: Why didn’t you tell her she was dead?! The poor little girl doesn’t realize that she’ll never find her mother!

BOY: Who am I to tell her what she doesn’t know? She needs to learn it for herself. If I tell her and she believes me, she might stay here forever.

ANDREA: [Looking offstage] I can’t see her anymore…where’d she go? She just disappeared…

BOY: She doesn’t go anywhere. She simply doesn’t exist in her own mind; therefore she doesn’t exist in ours.

ANDREA: That makes no sense—how can you not exist and not be aware of yourself?

BOY: You do sleep, don’t you, Andrea?

ANDREA: Of course I sleep. I’m sleeping right now. Dreaming, in fact—that’s how I visit you: in my dreams.

BOY: Yes, but you’re not dreaming right now. This is real. However, normal people really do dream. And when they wake up and they feel as if the only time they existed during the night was when they were dreaming and they never remember when they weren’t.

ANDREA: …I guess I understand...

BOY: Well, that’s where she is. She’s sleeping but she’s not dreaming.

ANDREA: So…what you’re saying is, basically…death…is like…sleeping?

BOY: Exactly.

ANDREA: [Pause] Kind of like…a dimension—a dream where you can take control?

BOY: You betcha. You can toy around with other people in different dimensions without them even realizing it half the time. It’s pretty cool, I guess. But your emotions are very limited. You can’t regret, you don’t feel pain or longing—whatever.

ANDREA: But the little girl—Sarah—she seemed pretty pained and distressed to me.

BOY: She didn’t know that she was dead.

ANDREA: Oh. [Pause] Can a ghost feel love?

BOY: Uh, why do you ask?

ANDREA: I’m just curious, that’s all. If you can’t feel pain I wondered if, perhaps, you could feel love…?

BOY: Sure, you ghosts can feel love. I haven’t personally experienced it, but I don’t see why not. My aunt used to say that love is what the soul is made of—that God created us from and with love. [Makes a face] Corny, huh?

ANDREA: I don’t think it’s corny at all—I think it’s beautiful.

BOY: There’s another concept that’s lost on the dead—beauty. You just don’t care after a while. Some people say ‘life’s a bitch and then you die’…However, the truth is, life’s a bitch and then you just stop caring…

ANDREA: What a blessing—the ability to not care. If you’re telling me the truth, then I don’t think death will be that bad. I find that I care too much about life. But it can seem so pointless at times. I wake up every morning, go to school, come home, do homework, go to bed, wake up, go to school, come home, etc. It’s this monotonous, droning cycle. And for what? So that I can get good grades and go to college. For what? So that I can get a good job. And why do you need a good job? To make money and support yourself. But why? Life isn’t just about money and material things. We need a roof over our head, food to eat, a bed to sleep in…but there has to be something more. I just don’t understand. I don’t see the goal that I’m striving for…I’m lost in the tunnel, but I can’t see any light. So…I just go to school the next morning and keep walking through, trying not to trip and fall.

BOY:  Speaking of school, I think you should probably go now. You lose track of time here and if you don’t get back to your body your parents will probably freak out. You might miss school.

ANDREA: God forbid! [Pause; sighs] Okay, alright, you make a good point. I’ll see you later.

BOY: Bring some more poetry tomorrow night....it’s good stuff.

ANDREA: I will.

Andrea exits and there is a blackout.









SCENE 3

We find ourselves in Andrea’s bedroom. Andrea sits on the bed with another girl her age, Myra, having just read her poem.

ANDREA: So…you really like it?

MYRA: Well, um…I liked the writing…the subject, on the other hand—

ANDREA: What’s wrong with it?

MYRA: It’s just a little bit depressing, I suppose.

ANDREA: Yeah, I know.

MYRA: Maybe if you tried writing something more…uplifting…maybe that would be better.

ANDREA: Uplifting?

MYRA: Yeah! You know, something happy, something about…I don’t know—nature…?

ANDREA: You think I should write about nature?

MYRA: Andrea, I don’t know. Anything. Write about anything that makes you happy!

ANDREA: [Gets up and walks around; looks at the ground] I don’t know, Myra. I write what I feel. It’s self-expression.

MYRA: I worry about you a lot, Andrea.

ANDREA: Don’t; there’s nothing to worry about.

MYRA: Yes, there is. You talk about things that really scare me…that scare a lot of people, actually. Have you ever considered seeing a psychiatrist?

ANDREA: No. Why should I? Why would I pay someone to listen to me?

MYRA: Maybe it’s clinical depression…maybe you should talk with your doctor.

ANDREA: Why? So I can take happy pills and make all my problems disappear?

MYRA: Hey, I know some people with clinical depression, Andrea—it’s a serious illness and I don’t think you should completely rule it out.

ANDREA: Listen, I know what’s wrong with me…and it’s not a medical problem.

MYRA: Then what’s wrong, Andrea, what’s wrong with you?

Silence.

MYRA: Sometimes it’s best not to dwell on the past.

ANDREA: [Pause] Yesterday we discussed the big Spanish project they do every year—you know, the cooking show video project? Señora gave us the option of working alone or with a partner. Apparently everybody else partnered up before class or something, I don’t know. I mean, I had figured I’d wind up working alone anyway, but it was a little disappointing that I didn’t even have a choice. Sra. asked us who was working alone—I was the only one who raised my hand. The only one. And you know what? Elise Sullivan came up to me after class and asked me if I was working alone because I wanted to or because no one had asked to be my partner.

MYRA: What did you tell her?

ANDREA: I didn’t know what to say at first. I hadn’t thought about it, really. I had just assumed. I assumed that’d I’d work alone, simply because that’s the way things always are. I never bother to go looking for someone if we have a choice—everybody has their own little groups, cliques, their best friends, whatever. I don’t bother because everybody already knows who they want to work with. [Pause] I told her it was both.

MYRA: You aren’t hurting anyone but yourself.

ANDREA: Myra, I’m utterly alone! [Pause] I just…every single day I walk in and out of that school and I hardly talk to anyone. There’s no one for me to talk to! Nobody wants to talk with an outcast. [Pause] There’s nobody there worth talking to anyway.   

MYRA: So, what does that make me? Are you saying I’m not your friend?

ANDREA: No! No, not at all…I mean…you’re different, Myra. I don’t see you every single day—just in band. I’m talking about people that I spend my days with. None of them want anything to do with me.

MYRA: Why don’t you try showing a little bit of interest in them? Did you ever stop to think that maybe people don’t talk to you because you never approach or talk to them?

ANDREA: There was a time when I tried that…it just doesn’t work. Nobody will open up their group to a loner. I depended so much on Savannah, and I guess I figured she was the only friend I’d ever need.

MYRA: But she moved away in 8th grade, Andrea, she’s gone. You don’t even talk to her anymore.

ANDREA: I don’t really miss her that much…I miss having a best friend.

MYRA: Andrea…I’m rather hurt, I won’t lie to you. I could be your—

ANDREA: No!

MYRA: What?! Why couldn’t—

ANDREA: Because! [Pause] After Savannah left, another friend of mine, Sharon, decided to transfer to a Catholic school. She told everybody after band practice and she and I started talking. We went into the room where they keep all the instruments and had this long heart-to-heart. She told me about all the friends she was going to miss…and I told her about Savannah. I told her what I just told you—I miss having a best friend. She looked at me, her eyes swelling with tears and said, “I’ll be your best friend.” We both hugged and started bawling our frigging eyes out. [Pause] Then she transferred and I haven’t seen her since.

MYRA: Andrea, you need to stop—

ANDREA: I’m not going to lose anybody else!

MYRA: Listen to me, would you?!

ANDREA: I won’t lose you, Myra! [Pause] I’ve found the easiest way to avoid being abandoned is to stop making friends. [Pause] Especially best friends.

MYRA: You can’t live your life like this, Andrea. No man is an island.

ANDREA: [Pause] I’m not a man, I’m a woman.

MYRA: [Pause] You’re a girl.

Blackout.






SCENE 3

We are back in Scene 1, the dream-like landscape. Andrea sits downstage right and the Boy sits downstage left.

ANDREA: [Reading a poem]

To blend in with shadows
To melt into snow
To wash away with rain
These things I know.

To have a mouth that doesn’t speak
Eyes that don’t glow
But ears that hear all
These things I know.

To be cast into a corner
Pushed down low
To be utterly base
These things I know.

For someone to care, understand
Perhaps even yearn
For one who’s like me—
That I must learn.

BOY: [pause] I think this one has better structure than the last…would you read the last verse again?

ANDREA:  “For someone to care, understand; perhaps even yearn for a one who’s like me—that I must learn.” I was thinking about rewriting that part. I couldn’t really think of anything better that would rhyme with ‘learn’ so I’m just leaving it alone until I can come up with something else.

BOY: What about ‘turn’, ‘urn’, ‘concern’, ‘return’—

ANDREA: Okay! I get it, there are a lot of different choices—I get it! I just couldn’t figure out how to use them the way I wanted.

BOY: I don’t think there’s anything wrong with it as far as the writing goes, but…

ANDREA: Oh, not you too!   

BOY: I just think that it’s a terrible assumption to make…people care about you.

ANDREA: Oh yeah? Name one person.

BOY: [Pause] I care about you.

ANDREA: …you do?

BOY: Well, at least I think I do. It’s been a really long time since I cared about someone—I guess the last person I truly cared about was my aunt. But that was ten years ago—or was it a hundred? It feels like a hundred. Anyway, the thing is, I think I care about you…I think this is how it feels.

ANDREA: Um, how exactly do you feel?

BOY: I’m trying to remember…even though my aunt and I got into a lot of arguments, I still cared a lot about her. It was that unconditional love, you know? And I wanted to make her proud of me. I mean, not all the time. But there were times when I wanted to make her so proud of me, and really happy. And, for some reason, I want to make you happy too. [Pause] I know that must sound kind of weird.  

ANDREA: [Pause] Thank you…?

BOY: [Pause] Oh, man, you should have seen her at my wake! You should have seen the lot of them…I had never seen so many green-faced, nauseous people in the same room!

ANDREA: Ew! It wasn’t closed-casket?!

BOY: Okay, okay, it was…but if it hadn’t been, they would have all been puking. That was one huge hole I put in my head. Man, it was sick!

ANDREA: I really don’t see how that’s something to brag about…

A teenage girl walks onstage, Bianca, she is talking on a phone. She walks across the stage, utterly oblivious of Andrea and the Boy.

BOY: If you had seen it you’d think it was pretty sick yourself.

ANDREA: Actually, I think it’s sadistically disgusting.

BOY: That’s just because you’re a hypocrite.

ANDREA: How am I a hypocrite?!

BOY: You write all of this crap about being hurt, alone, depressed…like you know the meaning of it all, when really, you have no clue!

ANDREA: How would you know how I feel? How would you know  what I’ve been through?

The Boy takes the phone from Bianca as she walks by him, waving it at Andrea to emphasize what he’s saying; Bianca frantically tries to grab it back, but he keeps waving it away from her as he and Andrea speak. Bianca is hysterical, screaming and running around the whole time.

BOY: You really don’t have any idea!

ANDREA: How would you know?! I thought ghosts couldn’t feel pain!

BOY: I can’t! I don’t feel pain! [Pause] But I can feel loneliness. Sometimes I wish I could feel pain, because it would be a hell of a lot better than this numbness. Sometimes it’s better to feel something than nothing at all.

ANDREA: And I thought you couldn’t feel regret!

BOY: I don’t! Do you think I did this to myself? I didn’t ask to be numb…you can’t regret something you had no control over in the first place. If ghosts do lament, it’s because of something they had no power over.

ANDREA: [Pause; turning around slightly to face away from him angrily. She waits several moments before turning back around] For God’s sake, give her back her damn phone!

The Boy throws the phone across the stage angrily. Bianca scrambles to pick it up, hurriedly walking offstage.   

BIANCA: Stacey, there’s some weird stuff going on around here…I’ll call you back later. [Running offstage] Paul! You’re not going to believe this! [Exits.]

ANDREA: [Pause] Thank you!

BOY: You’re welcome!  

They sit down on opposite sides of the stage. They sit like this for a few moments, both quietly absorbed in anger and reflection. Soon a boy and girl, Kayla and Tim, walk to center stage; a park bench is placed there for them and they both take a seat.

KAYLA: It’s such a gorgeous day, Tim, don’t you think?

TIM: Definitely! I’m so glad spring is here; winter always seems to last a lot longer than it should. It gets depressing after a while.

KAYLA: It does, doesn’t it? [Pause] Man—that grass is so green, the sky is so clear, the birds are singing…but you know what makes today twice as good?

TIM: What?

KAYLA: I’m spending it with you.

BOY: Don’t make me gag!

TIM: That’s sweet of you to say.

KAYLA: Well, it’s true! I’m so happy; this day couldn’t possibly get any better.

TIM: I feel the same way. I don’t want it to end.

KAYLA: Me either.

TIM: [Pause] I don’t care if it starts raining or snowing—as long as I can sit here with you and look into your eyes it’ll be a beautiful day.

ANDREA: My God, this is beyond cheesy!

KAYLA: [Pause] Tim, I’ve always had this silly dream and I’ve never told anyone before.

TIM: What’s that?

KAYLA: When my grandfather was a little boy he wrote a letter and put it in a bottle in hopes that one day he’d let it go into the ocean and somebody in another country would find it. When he was a young man he took a trip to Maine and, by some miracle, remembered to take the bottle with him. He used to tell me the story when I was a little girl about how he had stood there on the beach, the sun slowly setting, and how he leaned down to place the bottle in the water to let it float out into the ocean. [Pause] Someday I want to visit different beaches in Europe to see if I can find it. I mean, I’d assume that’s where it’d end up, but I’m not entirely sure.

TIM: I think that’s a beautiful dream.

BOY: I think this girl needs to get herself a hobby.

TIM: Did he tell you what his note said?

KAYLA: That’s why I want to find it…he never told me. He passed away when I was eight years old. He never told anyone, apparently.

TIM: Maybe somebody’s already found it.

KAYLA: Perhaps. I’d still like to look, though. It’d be an adventure.

TIM: I love that about you, Kayla—you’re ambitious.

ANDREA: I think ‘crazy’ is the word he’s looking for.

KAYLA: I can always count on you to support me, can’t I? [Pause] I don’t know what I’d do without you.

TIM: I love you, Kayla.

BOY: I think I’m going to be sick!

KAYLA: I love you too, Tim.

ANDREA: This is repulsive!

Kayla and Tim lean towards each other, beginning to kiss, but the Boy snaps his fingers before they can reach each other. Andrea and the Boy walk over to them and stand behind the bench.

ANDREA: That was close!

BOY: I’ll say!

ANDREA: I don’t think I could stand one more second of that.

BOY: I think this possibly might have been even more disgusting than the hole in my head.

ANDREA: I’m sure it is!

BOY: I guarantee you!

They stand there behind the bench, Kayla and Tim in front of them on the bench, almost in a kiss. There’s a lot of tension and Andrea and the Boy look anywhere but at each other. Suddenly they look up at the same time and continue where Tim and Kayla left off, slowly leaning in and kissing each other. The lights blackout.






    
SCENE 4

The scene is a classroom. Andrea sits at a desk, alone in the empty classroom, doodling on one of her notebooks dreamily. A few moments into the scene a plastic bottle flies across the stage; she is oblivious. A boy comes running in from stage left, chasing after the bottle. A girl follows him, trying to pull him back and beat him to it. Their names are Josh and Dawn.

DAWN: Give it back, Josh!

JOSH: [Picking up the bottle and dangling it above her head.] You want it? Take it!

DAWN: Stop being a jerk; just give me my water back already!

JOSH: Gotta catch me first, Dawn!

DAWN: What grade are we in?! C’mon, Josh!

Josh begins to run back stage left but stops abruptly when Andrea accidentally drops her pencil and it lands in front of him. They both stare blankly at it for a moment. Dawn slowly pulls the water bottle out of Josh’s hand without him realizing it.  Andrea slowly gets up, picks up her pencil, and returns to doodling.

JOSH: Hi.

Silence.

JOSH: I said “hi”! Why don’t you fricking say “hi” back?

ANDREA: [Looking up absent mindedly.] Oh, right, hi.

DAWN: Hey, you look kind of familiar.

ANDREA: [Pause; looking back up] I should—you sit next to me in Spanish class.

DAWN: Oh, yeah! Sarah, right?

ANDREA: No.

DAWN: Susan?

ANDREA: No.

DAWN: Sidney?—Stacey?

ANDREA: Andrea.
DAWN: That was my next guess.

JOSH: Aren’t you that kid who plays Bocce really good in gym class?

ANDREA: You’re thinking of Alice—you know, the gothic girl who cuts herself?

JOSH: Oh. You look like her.

DAWN: No she doesn’t! [To Andrea] What are you doing in here all alone? It’s lunch time, why aren’t you in the cafeteria?

ANDREA: Why should I be? I don’t like eating. I like thinking. I could quietly think in the cafeteria, or I could quietly think right here, and I prefer right here because it’s…quiet.

DAWN: You don’t like eating?

ANDREA: Well, not when people are watching, anyway. They’d think I was a pig or something. One time in the 6th grade we had an ice cream party and I was eating my ice cream cone when a kid came up to me and said, “Why are you eating that? Aren’t you already fat enough?” So, I figure he’s got a good point. I try not to eat in front of people anymore.

DAWN: That’s stupid.

ANDREA: I guess.

JOSH: That Alice kid sure is good at Bocce…

DAWN: [Mock-punching him] Shut up, Andrea’s feeling sad.

JOSH: Well, she is!  

ANDREA: I’m not sad at all, in fact, I’m rather happy.

DAWN: You’re happy?

ANDREA: Yeah, really happy. I think the happiest I’ve ever been in my life.

JOSH: Well what’s making you so happy?

ANDREA: I think…I…I think that I’m in love, but I’m not sure.

DAWN: Aw! That’s so cute! Who is he?

ANDREA: You wouldn’t know him.

DAWN: Are you just saying that? ‘Cause if I do, I could try to set you two up.

ANDREA: No, you really don’t know him. Trust me. Besides, even if you did—I’m not even sure if it is love. I think I’m too young to really understand the whole concept…I mean, romantically, anyway. Sure, I love my parents and my cat…but that’s a totally different thing. What is love?

JOSH: [Pause] It’s when you get this tingly feeling down in your—

DAWN: [Cutting him off] It’s when you spend time with somebody and you…hmm…when you…love them. I don’t know.  

ANDREA: You see? I find that a lot of people our age misinterpret sexual infatuation as love. I guess it’s all those hormones and all that crap adults always blame it on…[pause] I’d like to think that love is putting that person above yourself. If you’d give your life for someone, I’d say that you truly love them. But how many of us get that opportunity? How else can we measure it?

JOSH: Do you think he’s hot?

ANDREA: [Pause] I don’t know…I guess I never really thought about it before.

DAWN: How could you not think about it? Are you blind or something?

ANDREA: No, I just—you know how sometimes you’ll be talking to someone and you just completely forget about their race, gender, if they wear glasses or not—you’re just so caught up in what they have to say you almost don’t see them anymore—?

DAWN + JOSH: [Staring at her blankly] No…

ANDREA: Well, that’s what happens to me when I talk to him.

DAWN: You’re one weird kid, Andrea.

ANDREA: Thank you.

JOSH: [Pause] You mean, you forget that he’s a dude?

ANDREA: I didn’t mean it like that—I just meant that I don’t focus on his physicality.

JOSH: [Looks at her stupidly]

ANDREA: The way he looks.

JOSH: Oh.

DAWN: You know, you should bring him to the dance this Friday so we all can meet him.

ANDREA: I don’t like dances. I haven’t been to one since 6th grade.

DAWN: Why not?

ANDREA: Because I was at a dance one time and a kid came up to me and said, “Why don’t you dance more? You could lose a lot of weight that way.”

DAWN: You poor thing!

ANDREA: [Laughing] No, no, I’m just joking. I just don’t like dances. I can’t dance.

DAWN: So what? Just bring him along and we can all talk and stuff.

ANDREA: Why do you want to meet him so badly? You didn’t even know my name a few minutes ago.

DAWN: I don’t know, I just—

JOSH: She’s desperate to set somebody up. She tried setting me up with a girl once and it was wicked messy, so she’s trying to compensate.

DAWN: Compensate?

JOSH: I have one of those calendars that teaches you a new word every day. Best ten dollars I ever spent! It’s superlative!  

ANDREA: I guess “physicality” comes in June, right?

JOSH: What?

ANDREA: Forget it. [Pause] I think he’s busy on Friday, so I couldn’t bring him anyway.

DAWN: What school does he go to?

ANDREA: Um…I don’t know…

DAWN: You don’t know?

ANDREA: Well, um, you see…he lives with his aunt and she’s trying to sell the house and they’re going to be moving, so, you see, since he doesn’t know quite where they’re moving to, he doesn’t know what school he’s going to go to.

DAWN: Well, where does he go right now?

ANDREA: Oh, he’s—he’s home schooled!

JOSH: God, I can’t imagine having my parents teach me!

DAWN: Well, why don’t you bring him to the football game on Saturday?

ANDREA: There’s a football game this weekend?

DAWN: Duh! There’s always some game going on during the weekend.

ANDREA: I wouldn’t know; I hate sports.

JOSH: What?! Sports are, like, the most important thing man will ever be a part of! Sports are so unique to humans. I mean, all that running and jumping and kicking—no other animal on this planet can do that! ‘Sports’ is like the definition of humanity!  

DAWN: [Pause] Well, what do you like?

ANDREA: Drama, art, music—

JOSH: In other words, everything that’s geeky.

ANDREA: Yeah, I guess you might say that.

DAWN: Well, when he’s not busy, get him to come over here so I can meet him. [Pause] I’m hungry, so I’m gonna go to lunch now. You coming, Josh?

JOSH: [Grabbing the water bottle from Dawn] Yoink! [Runs offstage]

DAWN: [Chasing after him] Josh!

ANDREA: See you later. [Goes back to doodling.]






SCENE 5

We are back, once again, in the dream-like dimension that the Boy inhabits. The Boy and Andrea sit side by side as she reads him a poem.

ANDREA: [Reading a poem]

Sharp red, vibrant red, glowing red
It only burns my eyes
These blooming flowers on the table
Cannot suppress my sighs.

Pen and paper, a sunny afternoon
I carefully write each word
Trying to find some happiness, consolation
The whisper of falling petals heard.

I write of all the beauty in this world
For these pages could not contain
All the bitterness of life when one can only
Fight, hate, complain.

Wilting stem, petals crumbling away,
Clinging onto night, yet dying during day
And as I scribble the last words of my prose
I imagine there’s something beautiful in a dying rose.

BOY: I think it’s the most remarkable one yet. You know, Andrea, there’s just something about your poetry I love that I can’t quite put my finger on.

ANDREA: Really? You like it?

BOY: I love it…but you can’t possibly think that it was over my head. I know what it’s about.

ANDREA: You do?

BOY: It’s all in the last verse—it describes me perfectly. [Pause] You think I’m beautiful?

ANDREA: [Laughing] I don’t know if I’d use those words…

BOY: But you did! You should have said, ‘handsome’—it sounds less weird.

ANDREA: But it’s a metaphor—roses are beautiful, not handsome.

BOY: And I’m not a rose.

ANDREA: [Pause] So…what do you think?

BOY: I already told you.

ANDREA: No, I mean…

BOY: Do I feel the same way?

ANDREA: Well…yeah…

BOY: Truth is—I’m no poet, Andrea. But if I were, I’d write you this really awesome poem with neat metaphors and symbolism and then you’d understand how much you mean to me. [Pause] Wait a second! What am I talking about?! I’m the best poet in the world!
The Boy snaps his fingers and Kayla and Tim come onstage. Kayla is in a red flamenco dress and Tim is in a suit; he holds a rose. They walk together to center stage, a spotlight appearing on them.

TIM: Margarita, I think you are the most beautiful woman in the world!

KAYLA: Oh, Fabio! [Swoons]

ANDREA: Margarita? Fabio?

BOY: What? I never took Spanish class; I was a French student.

ANDREA: Oh, okay. That explains it.

TIM: Margarita, my darling, come away with me!

KAYLA: But, Fabio, where are you going?

TIM: I don’t know; anywhere but here. I want to leave this meaningless life behind and start anew with you by my side.

KAYLA: But my father! He’ll never approve!

TIM: We’ll find a way, my darling, somehow we will be together!

Tim hands Kayla the rose. She smells it. He dips her and gives her a kiss.  

TIM: [Pause] ¡Te quiero, mamasita! [Tears his shirt open.]

The Boy snaps his fingers and they freeze. The Boy walks up to Kayla, takes the rose, and brings it back, giving it to Andrea.

ANDREA: That’s so sweet…rather perverted in that last stanza…but still really sweet.

BOY: I’m glad you like it.

ANDREA: I love it.

He snaps his fingers once more and Kayla and Tim begin to exit. But before Kayla leaves she angrily yanks the rose away from Andrea, walking offstage in a pout.

ANDREA: So…where exactly do we go from here?

BOY: What do you mean?

ANDREA: I mean, it’s clear that we really care about one another…but there’s only one tiny problem with that…

BOY: There aren’t any problems.

ANDREA: Um…you’re dead.

BOY: Okay, so that might be a bit of an obstacle.

ANDREA: It’s just that, if you were alive, we could date and go to movies and parties together, and maybe, if we were really serious, even get married once we got out of school…but we can’t do any of that. We can’t do a whole lot. In fact, I can only come here when I sleep.

BOY: Why would we need all that?

ANDREA: I don’t know…I guess it’s just what a girlfriend and boyfriend are supposed to do. [Pause] But I guess that’s not us, is it?

BOY: [Taking her hands in his own] I think we’re so much more than that, Andrea.

ANDREA: [Pause; laughs]

BOY: What is it?

ANDREA: I just realized that I don’t even know your name.

BOY: Oh. [Pause] Neither do I.

ANDREA: You don’t?

BOY: It’s the first thing to leave you when you die. You begin to forget things, little things…eventually big things…but who needs a name when they’re dead, anyway? It’s a title that a body owns, and when the body is gone, what purpose does it serve?

ANDREA: I never thought about that. [Pause] I think I should give you a name.

BOY: But I don’t have a body.

ANDREA: Well, I’d like to call you by something other than ‘you’!

BOY: You’re going to name me?

ANDREA: Sure! Why not? [Pause] What name do you want?

BOY: [Shrugs] I can’t think of anything…

ANDREA: Something symbolic…

BOY: I suppose…

ANDREA: [Pause] How about Adonis?

BOY: Who in the hell names somebody Adonis?

ANDREA: Okay, okay…I know! [Pause] Apollo!

BOY: Apollo is supposed to be better than Adonis?

ANDREA: He’s the Greek god of poetry.

BOY: I thought he was the Greek god of the sun.

ANDREA: He’s both.

BOY: That’s messed up.

ANDREA: That’s the Greeks for ya.

BOY: [Pause] Jason, Mike, Ben…Apollo?!

ANDREA: I like it.

BOY: It’s just a name. It’s just a word.

ANDREA: I don’t care what Shakespeare says, there is something in a name. I couldn’t imagine being called anything but Andrea—it becomes a part of me and makes me who I am.  

BOY: Apollo [pause] I don’t know, Andrea. After being nameless for so long it feels strange to me. There’s really no point…

ANDREA: Yes, there is a point! I just told you—

BOY: I’ll forget it eventually. [Pause] Remember that little girl Sarah? She said she saw a man that just glared at her and it scared her—do you remember that?

ANDREA: Yeah, I remember.

BOY: That man has been in this dimension too long. He’s forgotten nearly everything except the ability to exist. Soon he’ll disappear. [Pause] If I don’t leave this place to go to Heaven or Hell, eventually I will disappear too.

ANDREA: No, no you won’t! I won’t let you disappear! [Pause] I’ll remind you of everything every time I see you—I won’t let you forget anything.

BOY: It won’t work.

ANDREA: I won’t let you forget!

BOY: [Pause] Nothing lasts forever.

ANDREA: I wish there was something more I could do…

BOY: Just stand still…

ANDREA: I just wish that—why?

BOY: [Pause] I want to make sure you’re the last thing I forget.

Lights  fade out.






SCENE 6

We find ourselves in a room where a medium, Dara, is doing a reading for a young man, Alex. She is NOT your stereotypical psychic—no large turban or big jewelry. She is more of the free-spirited type; think Dharma from “Dharma and Greg”…and she is reading tarot cards.

DARA: Now, let’s look at your cards [pause] it appears that the card that presides over January is death.

ALEX: WHAT?!

DARA: Calm down! It simply means the end of a project; something is coming to a close. It doesn’t really mean death.

ALEX: Listen lady, tell it to me straight! I don’t want it sugar-coated—am I dying in a car accident, or will I get shot in the middle of warring gangs?!

DARA: You’re not going to die.

ALEX: Oh, is that so?! [Pause] The cards don’t lie!

DARA: You don’t seem to understand; the card does not actually mean—

ALEX: I don’t know about your other customers, but I can handle the truth, lady! I can handle the truth!

DARA: You’re not going to die!

ALEX: Oh, yeah? We’ll see about that! [Pause; gets up] I’m going to McDonalds! [Storms offstage.]

DARA: Damn it! Why don’t they ever believe me?! That’s the third customer this week! I knew this would happen, but nooo, oh, no, Dara, we just have to give it a try anyway, don’t we?!

A phone starts to ring. The Boy walks onstage: he will now be known as Apollo.

APOLLO: Your phone’s ringing. Why don’t you answer it?

DARA: [Looking up at him] They have the wrong number. They think they’re calling a pizza place.

APOLLO: How do you know that?

DARA: I’m a psychic.

APOLLO: Sure you are.

DARA: I am! [Pause] Damn! Even the ghosts won’t believe me! That’s it! I give up! I can’t take this anymore! I’m so sick and tired of trying to defend myself constantly and feeling like an idiot! [Begins to laugh] Look at me! I’m talking to a ghost; I’m talking to a ghost and even he doesn’t believe I can talk to ghosts. I think this is truly rock bottom. They’ll pack me up and ship me off to the loony bin!

APOLLO: You’re a psychic? Prove it.

DARA: [Glaring at him] You killed yourself.

APOLLO: [Pause] A lot of people commit suicide; it’s not uncommon.

DARA: With a gun.

APOLLO: What else would somebody use?

DARA: At your friend’s house.

APOLLO: So? So?!

DARA: And somehow there’s a girl involved in all of this…

APOLLO: It has nothing to do with her. [Sits down where Alex had been sitting—across from Dara.]

DARA: What’s your name, kid?

APOLLO: [Pause] Apollo. My name’s Apollo.

DARA: No, it’s not.

APOLLO: I said my name’s Apollo!

DARA: Okay, okay, geeze! Don’t get so worked up!

APOLLO: Who do you think you are, telling me what my name is?

DARA: It’s not Apollo, It’s—

APOLLO: Don’t say it!

DARA: [Pause] Oh. Ahhhh, yes. I see. I know what this is about. At first I was confused, but I can’t stay confused for long. [Pause] Just because she made you a new person doesn’t mean that you never existed before.

APOLLO: I’m not the person I used to be.

DARA: I know you’re not…Gregory.

APOLLO: I thought I told you not to say it!!!

DARA: Woopsie.

APOLLO: Why the hell did you say it?!

DARA: I have trouble keeping secrets…?

APOLLO: No; I think you’re just a pathetic excuse for a medium having a little fun screwing around with the dead just so she can have a laugh or two!

DARA: Darlin’, I ain’t no John Edwards.

APOLLO: ‘Ain’t’ isn’t a word!

DARA: Oh? I thought you looked it up in a dictionary once.

APOLLO: [Begins to open his mouth to retort; shuts it, shakes his head and glares at her before continuing] How do you sleep at night?

DARA: You’re right, I’m just messing with you. It’s a lot more fun than I thought it would be, too.

APOLLO: …my name’s Greg?

DARA: Greg Richards. You took your own life when you were 17 years old while visiting a friend.

APOLLO: Billy…

DARA: Correct—Billy Dabrowski.

APOLLO: That kid was a creep! What ever happened to him?

DARA: He’s living in Arizona with his partner, Zach.

APOLLO: What? [Pause] Oh. God, he’s 27, isn’t he? I keep forgetting—things have changed. [Pause] Wait a second—did you say his partner Zach?  

DARA: Just because you died doesn’t mean that the world stopped turning.

APOLLO: I forget that sometimes. [Pause] How do you know all this?

DARA: I already told you; I’m psychic.

APOLLO: It must be pretty cool—reading minds and telling the future and all that stuff.

DARA: It certainly can be—but sometimes it gets burdensome. [Pause] People don’t believe what they don’t want to hear. Sometimes I hate this gift. People are skeptical; it doesn’t matter what you do, they’ll never believe a word you say to them. It makes me feel worthless, like I’m a liar. And I’m not a liar.

APOLLO: It must get frustrating.

DARA: It does, it does! It’s like trying to get people to believe in aliens—unless you put one in a cage and ship it off to the laboratories, no one will believe you. [Pause] I think skepticism is just another word for fear.

APOLLO: Well, I don’t know about that…

DARA: What are you so afraid of, Greg?

APOLLO: Please, call me—

DARA: Apollo; what are you afraid of?

APOLLO: I’m not afraid of anything.

DARA: I told you that I don’t lie, so stop lying to me. I’m trying to help you.

APOLLO: I told you; nothing scares me.

DARA: It’s no use; I already know the answer. But I need to hear it from you; you need to say it.

APOLLO: What are you—a psychic or a frigging psychiatrist?! I’m not afraid!

DARA: You’re scared that you’ll lose her, aren’t you?

APOLLO: Who?

DARA: Don’t play games; you know perfectly well who. You’re scared that you’ll have to leave; you’re afraid that if you stay too long you might forget everything. But what scares you most is the thought of her finding someone else. [Pause] Don’t worry, Apollo…none of that will happen. But the future doesn’t look very bright.

APOLLO: I don’t want to hear it.

DARA: Are you sure?

APOLLO: I don’t want you to tell me, okay?!

DARA: You better start talking some sense into that girl before she goes too far.

APOLLO: Shut up!

DARA: [Pause] I just wanted to help.

APOLLO: I never asked for your help.

Lights fade.






SCENE 7

The scene is set once again in Andrea’s room; Myra sits on the bed while Andrea paces around the room.

MYRA: I think maybe you’re taking all of this too seriously, Andrea.

ANDREA: But Myra, you don’t understand!

MYRA: What? Just because she doesn’t invite you to her party you instantly assume she hates you?

ANDREA: Beth and I go really far back. I have all my classes with her right now and we always hang out together. Sometimes I feel like she’s the only person I can really be myself around. [Pause] That’s why all of this happened.

MYRA: All of this?

ANDREA: My poems! My stupid poems! I said something like, ‘wouldn’t it be great if my poem got into the school newspaper?’ and she said, ‘yeah…I guess…’ and it offended me and I told her so. Now she hates me!

MYRA: How do you know she hates you?

ANDREA: She hasn’t spoken to me since!

MYRA: Well, when did all this happen?

ANDREA: Thursday.

MYRA: Andrea, it’s only Saturday—how do you know she just hasn’t gotten a good chance to strike up a conversation?

ANDREA: She hasn’t said a single word to me, Myra, not even one!

MYRA: Well, maybe that’s your own fault. What was so offensive about what she said?

ANDREA: [Pause] I just…for once in my life I wish somebody would support me—you know, actually care about what I do. I felt like she was the only person who truly understood me, but she acted as if she would be disappointed if something good happened to me. That’s why I was offended.

MYRA: Oh, stop being so melodramatic!

ANDREA: Instead she invites Ashley!

MYRA: What’s wrong with her inviting Ashley?

ANDREA: Ashley is, like, only my worst enemy! She’s talented, nice, intelligent, hard-working—I hate her!

MYRA: I thought you were friends with Ashley?

ANDREA: [Sigh] I am…I guess I’m just jealous. And Beth knows how I feel. I think she’s trying to get back at me.  

MYRA: Did it ever occur to you that maybe Beth likes Ashley, enjoys her company?

ANDREA: I don’t know! All I know is that I considered Beth the best friend I had, and now she frigging hates me all because I said something about my damn poem!

MYRA: I don’t think your poetry’s to blame…

ANDRREA: This is why I have to stop doing this to myself…people let you down; they’re not worth your time. You can’t trust somebody to remain your friend, because they’ll eventually leave you. No one ever stays. [Pause] No one ever frigging stays, Myra.

MYRA: [Gets up] I guess I shouldn’t be an exception then, should I?

ANDREA: What?

MYRA: You act like I’m some sort of stranger! Like I’m a bystander; like I’m in the audience of your life! You’re constantly talking about how no one cares about you, Andrea, yet—here I am! Standing right in front of you! I think it’s about time you snapped out of whatever fantasy world you’re in and start acting your age!

ANDREA: Myra, I’m sorry, I…

MYRA: Sorry isn’t going to cut it anymore, Andrea! You make me feel like I don’t exist! Like I’m some sort of imaginary friend you tell all your stories to! I’m not going to listen anymore. I’m sick of it. I’m tired of being treated like an imaginary friend—like a ghost. I’m leaving.

ANDREA: Wait, I didn’t mean—!

MYRA: Goodbye, Andrea. [Exits.]     

ANDREA: [Sits down on bed; pause; quietly] No one ever stays.

Apollo enters and takes a seat next to her on the bed.

APOLLO: Tell me all about it.

ANDREA: [Looking at him despondently] Sometimes I feel like my entire world is just crumbling away from underneath me. [Pause] I felt like Beth was my last hope and now she’s gone. In truth, Myra was my last hope, my last real friend [pause] I feel broken.

APOLLO: You still have me.

ANDREA: You’re all I’ve got.

APOLLO: Don’t say that, Andrea. Things will get better, you’ll see. Give it time.

ANDREA: I’m tired of waiting for things to get better. They seem to just get progressively worse. One by one, all the people I care about step out of my life. I’m lonely, Apollo…I’m lonely.

APOLLO: You’ve got so many years ahead of you, Andrea. You have so much time to make your life what you want it to be.

ANDREA: You lost those you love, so you killed yourself. I keep losing all the people I love, so why shouldn’t I do the same?

APOLLO: Don’t say things like that, Andrea, you’re being ridiculous.

ANDREA: [Pause] You’ve changed so much! When I first met you, you were some sort of bad-ass who didn’t care about anything. Where’d that boy go?

APOLLO: He’s gone. He left when I started caring—when I started caring about you. Love can change a person.

ANDREA: Well, I love you too. Maybe that’s why suicide’s the best path for me to take. I could be with you. There’s nothing worth living for anymore.

APOLLO: No! You love me? Then don’t do anything stupid; don’t make the same mistake I made!

ANDREA: [Pause] Did you just…regret?

APOLLO: I told you, I’ve been changed. Loving you has made me more alive than I was ten years ago!

ANDREA: …I just don’t see a good reason why I should stay alive any longer.

APOLLO: Stop it, stop being like that! [Pause; grabs her by the arms and makes her face him] Promise me that you won’t kill yourself.

Silence.

APOLLO: Look me in the eye and promise me, Andrea!

The lights blackout.











SCENE 8

The scene takes place in the dream-like dimension. Andrea sits alone, center stage, a spotlight on her.

ANDREA: [Reading a poem]

Soft chiming bells
Dancing on the wind
Like a swirl of orange memory
Growing from within

And when I smell the sweet pine
Or the dying leaves of fall
I remember what once was mine
What once belonged to us all.

Yesterday I was a child laughing,
Thoughts did not burden me
I took so much for granted
How long will it be
Until I can embrace that life once more?

Yesterday was a dream that vanished with the night
Thirteen years
Seemed like thirteen days
Snuffed out like candle light.

The power to believe in magic is lost
Lost on a mind that doesn’t accept
A mind that doesn’t care, whatever the cost
And that spark is no longer kept

Burning,
A burning dream
To a burning soul
Burning with lessons untaught,
Burning out of control.

Melodious chimes please sing
Bring me back, take me back
Fly me on your wing
Back to when I understood,
Back to yesterday’s childhood.  

Andrea stands up and exits. Tim and Kayla enter, Kayla running after Tim.
KAYLA: [Tagging Tim] Tag, you’re it!

TIM: No fair! I had to tie my shoe and you didn’t let me get a running start!

KAYLA: Too bad!

TIM: But Andrea, it’s not fair!

KAYLA: Fine! [Stands impatiently, tapping her foot on the ground; pause] Well?! Aren’t you going to tag me?

TIM: [Pause; tags her and quickly darts to the other side of the stage] Bet you can’t catch me, Andrea!

KAYLA: [Running after him] Can too!

Tim and Kayla run offstage. Jen and Rachel enter walking side by side.

JEN: Quick, hold your breath!

RACHEL: Why?

JEN: Because we’re going past a graveyard, Andrea, that’s why!

RACHEL: Oh, okay.

They both take deep breaths and hold them until they’ve walked to the other side of the stage.

RACHEL: That was close! I almost couldn’t do it.

JEN: That’s because you’re a ghost.

RACHEL: I am?

JEN: Yep! I’m pretty sure you are, because the only people in the world who aren’t are me and my parents.

RACHEL: Nuh-uh!

JEN: We are too, Andrea!

RACHEL: Why should I believe you?

JEN: W-who said that?

RACHEL: I did!

JEN: I can’t see anybody! Is that you, Andrea?

RACHEL: Of course it’s me!

JEN: Oh, well don’t scare me like that! I don’t like it when you play your ghost-tricks on me.

RACHEL: I wasn’t playing any tricks!

JEN: [Pause] I forgot my lunchbox back at school! We better go back!

They begin to exit from the side they entered. Jen pauses and turns around to face Rachel.

JEN: Do I have to tell you again? Hold your breath!

Jen and Rachel exit. Tim and Kayla walk back onstage. Tim holds a large drawing in his hand; Kayla holds a pad of paper.

TIM: [Holding up the drawing for Kayla to see] Do you like my picture?

KAYLA: I think it’s pretty!

TIM: What did you paint for the project, Andrea?

KAYLA: I didn’t paint anything—I wrote something!

TIM: Can you read it to me?

KAYLA: Okay!

TIM: What’s it about?

KAYLA: It’s a story about a lion. [Reading] “Once upon a time there was a lion. He was really scary. One day he went to the hat shop and bought a hat. It was a really nice hat. Then he went home and lived happily ever after.”

TIM: [Long pause] That’s stupid!

Tim and Kayla walk off; Jen and Rachel return, running to center stage.

RACHEL: Savannah, you’re not going to believe this!

JEN: What? What happened, Andrea?

RACHEL: You know Mrs. Riff, the librarian, right?

JEN: You mean the nasty one that never smiles and yells at the 4th graders all the time?

RACHEL: Yeah, that’s the one!

JEN: What about her?

RACHEL: Well, Beth and I were sitting outside the library eating our snack when Mrs. Riff came out of the library…

JEN: Yeah, so?

RACHEL: Well, you know Ms. Silver?

JEN: Mhmm.

RACHEL: Well, Ms. Silver saw Mrs. Riff and stopped her in the hallway and said, “Why, Mrs. Riff, your skirt is very flowy today,” and then they walked away from each other.

JEN: So?

RACHEL: Once Ms. Silver was gone, Mrs. Riff looked from side to side (but didn’t see Beth or me ’cause we were behind her) and picked up her skirt and skipped down the hallway singing, “I’m a pretty butterfly”!

JEN: What?!

They burst out into hysterical laughter and exit; Tim and Kayla come back onstage. They walk to center stage and dance together nervously (as far apart as possible--arms length), swaying back and forth awkwardly, going around in circles.

KAYLA: Your hands are all sweaty.

TIM: So, Andrea, this is your first dance?

KAYLA: Yeah; I’m kind of scared with all these people watching us.

TIM: Nobody’s watching us.

KAYLA: Sometimes I feel like they are.

TIM: [Pause] Are you excited for Beth’s party?

KAYLA: Yeah. You?

TIM: She’s inviting me?

KAYLA: Of course! You’re my boyfriend.

TIM: That’s nice of her. [Pause; looking over his shoulder] Hey, do you want to do that?

KAYLA: Do what?

TIM: What they’re doing. Do you want to do what Nick and Liz are doing?

KAYLA: [Glancing over at them] You mean, kissing?

TIM: Yeah! Why not?

KAYLA: I’m only 11! My parents will kill me!

TIM: They don’t have to know; you don’t have to tell them.

KAYLA: I guess not…

TIM: So?

KAYLA: So…?

TIM: Do you want to kiss?

KAYLA: [Pause] …okay…

Kayla closes her eyes tightly. Tim awkwardly gives her a peck.

TIM: Was it bad?

KAYLA: No…it was…it was okay.

TIM: Want to do it again?

Andrea enters, a noose in her hand.

ANDREA: Get out of here!

KAYLA: What’d we do?

ANDREA: Everything! Go away!

TIM: No!

KAYLA: Go away!

TIM: Those old boats won’t float!

Jen and Rachel enter. The characters all begin to gang up on Andrea, their lines overlapping.

JEN: Andrea, I’m moving away!

RACHEL: If you read that chapter, you’d have the right answer!

TIM: The lion went to the hat store, he bought himself a hat!

KAYLA: You still owe me a Coke!

JEN: I’m moving to New York, aren’t you happy for me, Andrea?!

RACHEL: The homework’s due on Wednesday, no late work accepted!

TIM: It’s not you, Andrea, it’s me—I think we should just be friends!

KAYLA: [Singing] The sun will come out tomorrow, bet your bottom dollar that tomorrow there’ll be sun!

JEN: I love you like a sister! We’re best friends forever!

RACHEL: Remember to put on your suntan lotion!

TIM: You’re a great girl, Andrea, but I just don’t feel that way about you!

KAYLA: [Singing] When I’m stuck with a day, that’s gray, and lonely, I just—

ANDREA: SHUT UP! Shut up!!! Stop it!

Andrea holds up the noose for all of them to see. They all back away and form a circle around her to reveal a stool in the middle of their circle. Andrea steps on the stool, putting the noose around her neck. The lights blackout. There is silence and, abruptly, Tim, Kayla, Jen, and Rachel all shriek loudly at the same time.
They all begin to ask “why” in a staccato manner—their words overlapping one another as they exit. Lights come up again; Andrea is alone on the stage, holding a glass of water.

ANDREA: “Why?” is a difficult question to answer. [Pause] I spent my entire life pondering this question…Why did I have to go to church every Sunday? Why did our teachers give us so much homework? Why did my guinea pig have to die? Why did Savannah have to move away? Why did my father have to lose his job? Why did the woman down the street die of cancer? Why did a million people die in the Rwandan genocide? Why did over 6 million Jews die in the Holocaust? [Pause] And before I know it, I’m drowning in a pool of ‘Why?’s. I’m spinning in this vortex of unanswered questions that eat away at my brain and my heart and my soul. It becomes too much to d