The silence is unbearably loud.

The spotlights refocus back onto the stage, and it lights the entire hall bright gold. Someone coughs once, and it is jarring and unwanted. The judges click their pens open for the final time. A bright black Steinway Piano gleams in the center, polished to the point of salivation.

A young man, suit black and dress shoes blacker, walks out, posture straight and proud. His footsteps echo on the wooden floor, and he bows once before adjusting the height of the piano bench. He sits.

Linden’s hands are sweaty. He rubs them on his pant leg, but the nervousness doesn’t ease. He bounces his leg silently, once, twice. His heart beats loud enough to be one of those really expensive metronomes they sell at Penders. He’s wearing his nicest clothes, he’s taken a different shift at Starbucks, and he’s styled his hair into a better bun. He’s ready, or at least, he should be.

Onstage, his younger brother starts playing.

His fingers unconsciously flex, whitening as his brother goes over that practiced crescendo. Linden remembers that back then, it’d be minutes before his turn to go up, and he’d sit in the hallway because the waiting room was too stifling, playing his concerto on his thigh and making his sheet music crinkle at the harsh indentations; he’d always study his sheet music before a concert, not because he was unprepared but because he didn’t feel prepared enough.

Linden wonders if his brother does the same. Idris looks just like his father always does before going off on another business trip, skin light and bright against the glare of the sun, suit-dry cleaned and shimmering. It was a hand-me-down of course, but Linden had always thought Idris looked better in the suit than he ever did.

It’s only natural, after all.

Next is a series of arpeggios. Linden winces a little when the crescendo doesn’t go quite as planned, and he knows his little brother will spend hours poring over it later, not in front of a piano but in the deep crevasses of his mind.

Part of Linden wishes he had the twins with him. They were always a welcome presence at events like this, even though they always made way too much noise with the flipping chair covers.

Oh well, it’s alright. Linden shifts restlessly in the seat as the final recapitulation starts, almost the same as the theme. He tries; he tries to feel the music without imagining he was in his brother’s place, the stagelights pricking his arms, the music bringing him to a euphoric high.

Idris sways with the music, back leaning over without hunching. His eyes are blown open, and his fingertips bounce almost painfully off every note. Linden doesn’t know what he’s playing for, what his muse is or what he’s channeling into every note, but he knows his chest hurts just from listening to him. He tries not to think about the possibilities or “what could’ve him”. He focuses on the growing tightness around his chest, surely provoked by the ringing music.

Linden’s fingers start hurting without reason. He blows some hot air on them and presses them to his cheeks. Something squeezes behind his ribcage. The music rises and then—

Idris’s face screws into a tight knot, and he tickles the last arpeggio, only to practically slam his fingers back into the instrument in a resounding final note.

Nobody breathes for the second after that.

Linden stands up first—he always does—and he’s completely unaware of the growing wetness around his eyes. It only takes a split second for several other audience members to stand up as well.

Linden’s palms hurt from clapping, and his little brother extracts himself shakily from the piano bench, pressing himself into a low bow. There’s a written rule against cheering aloud, but he almost wants to at that moment.

Idris walks off the stage. Linden excuses himself and exits the auditorium.

____

“You always cry at these performances,” Idris remarks teasingly. Linden glares at him, wiping his eyes on his sleeve.

“Shut up and check the paper,” he snaps not unkindly. His younger brother rolls his eyes and flounces away to the newly posted preliminary results. Unrest hangs in the air around the crowd of well dressed participants and their guardians, even though Linden would bet his life’s savings that he already knew the results.

Sure enough, Idris cones back only minutes later, after having shoved his way through his competitors. On his face is a small but still incredibly self-satisfied smile.

“Made it,” Idris says, practically beaming. Linden’s lips break into a wide grin, and he reaches forward, playfully ruffling his brother’s hair. The boy breaks off with a screech, but there’s a gleam in his eye that alludes to something more.

“Good job,” Linden says warmly. He loops his arm around Idris’s shoulders, intentionally not creasing the suit, and they start making their way towards the exit, only to be stopped by a stern-faced woman.

“Ms. Feng!” Idris stumbles, shoving Linden’s arm off at the same time. Ms. Feng raises an eyebrow, coughing twice into her palm.

“You did well,” she says, that ever-appraising note evident in her voice. She scans over Idris’s form carefully, and he discreetly squirms under her gaze. “We’ll go over your mistakes next lesson.”

“Yes ma’am,” Idris nearly squeaks. Linden would laugh if he wasn’t similarly frozen. Ms. Feng’s eyes seem to track their way over to his frame.

“He is your brother,” she says to Linden, voice unreadable. Linden averts his eyes. With a final glance, Ms. Fend pads away, high heels clopping against the ground. Idris and Linden release a breath at the same time.

“I’ll make your favorite dinner,” Linden promises. Idris colors slightly.

“I’m not a kid!” He exclaims indigantly, all while almost salivating. Linden smiles and claps him on the back.

They walk home.

____

The next day, Linden fails history.

“Mr. Gbeho, like I said, there really isn’t any need for me to be-” he says exasperatedly, moments away from slamming his hands on the desk. The teacher simply hums and narrows his eyes at Linden.

“Linden, you’ve been on the cusp of failing for weeks,” he says starkly. “If something isn’t done now, then when will you improve?”

Linden doesn’t respond, clenching his fists at his sides. Mr. Gbeho takes that as a dull acceptance and waves him towards the back of the classroom. “Stay in the back. You can meet your tutor now.”

Linden’s eyes widen, and this time, he really does put his hands on the desk. “Mr. Gbeho! I-”

“It’s only for a few minutes,” the man says dismissively, promptly turning back towards his monitor as if ending the conversation. Linden seethes, stomping away and grabbing his phone from his pocket. He speed-dials the second contact listed, playing an F major scale on the side of his phonecase.

“Where are you?” Is the first thing that comes out of the phone, and Linden rolls his eyes.

“Respect your elders, brat,” he barks. “Where’s Idris?”

“Bathroom,” his younger sister replies vaguely, “What is it? Have you been arrested?”

“Why the hell would I-” Mr. Gbeho shoots Linden a dirty look, and he coughs, “Anyways, you guys have to go on without me. Something’s holding me up,”

“What is it?” Another voice shoves in, more boyish, and Linden sighs at the antics of the younger twins.

“Just... Stuff,” he says vaguely. Suddenly, the sharp sound of rustling blares through the phone.

“You’re still at the upper campus?” Finally, Idris’s reasonable voice filters through the mic. “We’ll meet you there then.”

“Wait I-” The call cuts off, and Linden hurriedly pulls up their group chat to type a rather angry message in. He heaves a deep sigh once it sends, leaning heavily against the wall as he fishes his earphones from his pocket.

Linden curses Mr. Gbeho in his head. Today was supposed to be a good day with his siblings. He didn’t have work, and none of them had any extracurriculars to worry about.

The music washes over him in waves, and he lets out a contented noise, sinking deeply into the instrumental part.

_____

The guy comes in a rush, and it’s only to Linden’s apparent misfortune that he can hear Mr. Gbeho spout praises for him over the sound of his music. Frustrated, he turns the volume up all while searching his peripheral for his siblings. When the guy—probably some studious freak, just like Idris—finally turns to look at Linden, he pretends like he doesn’t notice.

Linden won’t lie, the guy has one of the best resting b. faces he’s ever seen. He’d even be jealous if he hadn’t exhausted that tank already. The guy stalks towards him, and at this point, Linden is just straight up ignoring him. Maybe the Bon Bon Girls 303 blasting in his ears can save him.

It doesn’t. The prick taps on his shoulder, and Linden is forced to part from his precious earbuds. He scowls at the boy but receives nothing but that same look from him. It reminds him unnervingly of Idris honestly.

“You’re Linden, right?” The guy asks, voice pitching annoyingly at a low tenor. His vocal range is a little like Linden’s, but he probably hasn’t used it for anything “frivolous” like singing. Linden slides a little further from the close proximity, still refusing to make eye contact.

“Yeah, and yo-”

Something screeches down the hallway, and Linden whips his head around. Lo and behold, his siblings are there, scrambling down the hallways like the clear lowerclassmen they are. He sees the guy raise an eyebrow.

Suddenly, Lila, the older twin, trips over Idris, who was too busy marvelling over the upper campus’s hallways. Evander, who was walking far too close to Lila, falls with her.

They collapse in a cluttered heap. The boy beside him lets out a concerned sound.

Linden drags a hand over his face and curses.

#poplon

We open our story with a busy April 1 at desk, writing. Papers all over the place, hair in face.

Ducky walks calmly in holding newspaper.

He is not happy.

Ducky: So, I was reading this article, April—

April 1: Which one?

Ducky: (sigh) Yours. And I was thinking, gee, you really should be fired.

April 1: Well that’s an interesting way to start the morning.

Ducky: No, I wasn’t joking.

(beat, April looks up)

Ducky: Oprah’s top dieting tips, April? Really?

April 1: It’s a lifestyle column!

Ducky: Yeah, but you’re a lifestyle writer. Did you write this?

April 1: I compiled it.

Ducky: So you didn’t write it.

April 1: I compiled it.

Ducky: You said that already.

April 1: Yeah, but—

Ducky: I don’t want to fire you, April. I really don’t.

April 1: …Good?

Ducky: But you need to step it up if you want to stay. I don’t think a single person cared about Oprah’s top dieting tips. I need your writing to be yours again.

April 1: What?

Ducky: Remember when you first came here? You would write about your childhood or you’d explain things in a metaphor. People ate that stuff up! I need you to write like that again. You have one week.

April 1: Um…Ducky?

Ducky: Yeah?

April 1: What if I don’t have any more?

Ducky: What, stories?

April 1: Yeah.

Ducky: That’s just… (points to picture on desk) Have you done them yet?

April 1: Um…no. But—

Ducky: Then I guess you do have more stories, don’t you? (exit)

April 1: Crap. (muttering) I cant do it—I cant do it right. I have to—I cant go back.

(beat)

April 1: (opens computer) Okay, let’s go.

We’re now working with a split stage. Lights go up on other side of stage to reveal pawnshop setting. Arden sitting at counter, April 2 enters in middle of April 1 monologue

April 1: If someone asked me to write a book about that summer, I…I’d probably say no. But here I am! Doing this, if not only to save my job.

2008 was a weird year for me. I was too young to do anything cool, but I was too old for anything fun. There were days I couldn’t do anything at all, but probably only because my hometown, fittingly named Time Stops, was a wasteland. I couldn’t wait to grow up and get out. But I was fifteen. Nothing was severely difficult but everything was hard.

So in an act of teenage angst, I took to the pawnshop on fifth street, where everything started.

We go darker on April 1’s side of the stage. By now April 2 and Arden both sitting in pawnshop. Arden obviously unhappy about this.

Arden: So, you’re here again.

April 2: Looks like it, doesn’t it?

Arden: You’re going for two weeks and…

April 2: Four days.

Arden: Ah, yes.

(beat)

Arden: Why?

April 2: Would you believe me if I said I was worried about you?

Arden: Not at all.

April 2: Good, because it wasn’t true.

Arden: You have much bigger things to worry about…like maybe the circulation on your left arm.

April 2: (snaps sillybands on left wrist) Oh ha ha.

Arden: So I take it you’re staying?

April 2: Does that bother you?

Arden: Very much so.

April 2: Then definitely.

Arden: What kind of a nice girl spends all her time in a pawnshop?

April 2: You should go ask a nice girl, and besides, theres nothing wrong with me staying in here. You spend all your time in here.

Arden: That’s different. I own this pawnshop.

April 2: You chose to own it.

Arden: Shouldn’t you be in school?

April 2: It’s summer. There are still two weeks before school starts.

Arden: Fine then! Summer school.

April 2: Didn’t qualify for that.

Arden: Then get a job.

April 2: Fine. How much will you pay me to work here?

Arden: Um, it doesn’t look like you’re working.

April 2: I’ll start. How much?

Arden: I’m not hiring you.

April 2: Well that was a dumb suggestion then. Anyways, why cant I just shop around in here? It’s a public store, after all, isn’t it?

Arden: You’re not shopping, though.

April 2: Who’s to say I’m not testing out this chair?

Arden: You’ve been “testing that chair” for two weeks now!

April 2: I’m indecisive.

Arden: I’ll give you twenty minutes to decide. How’s that?

April 2: (slumps in chair) It’s better than nothing, I suppose.

Arden: (mutters) I wouldn’t say that, exactly.

April 1’s side of the stage lightens. April 1 is typing fast, and she stops to sweep her hair out of her eyes before returning to saying this…

April 1: I drove poor Arden crazy! He absolutely couldn’t stand that I spent all my time in his shop, which only fueled my love for it. He claimed I drove out all his normal customers, but I don’t think anyone actually shopped there anyway.

April 2: You know, I don’t think I’m gonna buy this chair.

Arden: It’s been seventeen minutes.

April 2: (gets up, moves to other chair) I guess I’m gonna have to test this one now.

Arden: You really don’t have to.

April 2: It’s my pleasure to. Anyway, it looks comfy.

Arden: And…we hit the twenty minute mark. You can leave now.

April 2: Um, no. That’s not how it works.

Arden: No, I’m pretty sure that was the agreement. You had twenty minutes.

April 2: I had twenty minutes to decide on that chair. Now I’m testing this one.

Arden: But…but you did decide!

April 2: I need more time. Even you should know that!

Endras comes in, picturesque small town girl carrying picnic basket

Endras: Torturing children again, Arden? I thought we moved past that (laughs)

Lights go down in pawnshop, go up in April 1’s office to show her still typing.

April 1: And then there was Arden’s girlfriend, Endras, the center of our story. Endras was smart and pretty and…well, the only one from last years graduating class still here. Everyone had theories on why she was still here, and some people actually thought she’d stay forever. Everybody secretly hoped so too.

Lights darken in office, but not all the way. Lights go up in pawnshop. Endras is at counter with Arden. April 2 is looking in the picnic basket.

April 2: I don’t think you brought enough.

Endras: How you doing, April?

April 2: I’d be better if you brought enough food for me too.

Endras: Right. I’ll take that into consideration for next time.

Lights go completely down in pawnshop. Exit April 2, Arden and Endras during next monologue. Lights go up in office side of stage.

April 1: That was how my days went. Pawnshop. Arden. Endras. Nonstop sarcasm and Lady Gaga music. Thats just how it was there though. Nobody ever wanted anything to change.

Nobody ever changed.

…

Lights go down completely for a second. When they come back up, Ducky is standing at April 1’s desk with another newspaper.

Ducky: You won.

April 1: It’s good?

Ducky: Good? It’s great! I can’t wait for part two!

April 1: Part two?

Ducky: Well, there’s obviously more to the story, right?

April 1: Uh…yeah?

Ducky: Well, I was thinking we’d carry it through the rest of the summer if that’s okay.

April 1: Oh! Uh…yeah, I guess that’s fine. I guess.

Ducky: Good. I think we’ve got a real prize here, April.

April 1: So I take it I’m not fired?

Ducky: Not today. Now start writing! This is gonna be our big summer story, I can feel it, and I need you to keep this going.

Ducky exits. During the next monologue the lights slowly rise in the pawnshop to reveal April 2 in the chair (yes, still) and Arden at the counter.

April 1: Little did I know, I wasn’t the only one spending all her time in the pawnshop. Endras had a little sister, Jessi, who I guess took the night shift until that day.

Lights go down completely in office.

(enter Jessi)

Arden: Great, now you’re both here.

April 2: What?

Arden: Morning glory, meet night owl.

Jessi: You’re kidding, right?

April 2: Arden, explain.

Arden: Wait, you guys don’t know each other?

April 2: Kind of…but…

Jessi: She spends her time here?

Arden: You bet she does.

April 2: (proudly) Every morning till he kicks me out!

Arden: Yup.

April 2: And her?

Jessi: Every night till he kicks me out.

April 2: Oh. Wow.

Jessi: I dont know whether to be mad or ecstatic.

April 2: Neither do I.

Arden: You can bet I’m not ecstatic.

Jessi: (turns to April 2) You skip school too much.

April 2: You skip fun too much.

Jessi: Fun? Here?

April 2: (laughs)

Arden: So now am I going to have to…

April 2: Don’t give us ideas.

Arden: You know, that might be a good idea.

Jessi: We should start coming together. We’ll outnumber him.

April 2: (imitating Arden) You know, that might be a good idea.

Arden: No…definitely not a good idea.

April 2: Well, sorry but (looks at Jessi, both nod)

Arden: I hate this job.

Lights fade back to April 1’s office

April 1: Jessi was the only other girl my age who lived in our town. We went to school in the next town over where she was captain of…well, pretty much everything. She was head cheerleader and played bass clarinet and practically owned science.

I never quite saw the point in doing that stuff, so we didn’t really have any common interests or reasons for hanging out. But to see her in the pawnshop was something of a revelation to me. And I felt no hesitation in getting close to her.

We decided to start going to the pawnshop together. We would wait for each other until Arden kicked us both out. Then Jessi would leave—she’d always go straight home, but I would stay and spy. That came in handy later, but we’ll cross that bridge when we get to it.

(April straightens papers on her desk and shuts laptop. Enter Ducky)

Ducky: April.

April 1: Ducky.

Ducky: Writing?

April 1: Just finished.

Ducky: The editor says you have mail waiting for you to answer.

April 1: I swear, I just filed all my—

Ducky: No, letters. From people.

April 1: (laughing) What?

Ducky: You’re getting fan mail, I guess.

April 1: No way! (beat) You’re actually serious right now?

Ducky: Do you want me to get you one of the stacks?

April 1: Stacks?

Ducky: I suggest you get to reading some. It’ll only keep piling if you don’t.

April 1: (laugh again, state of disbelief) I’ll go get some later.

Ducky: You have fun. (exit)

…

As April 1 opens her laptop and starts speaking, lights go up in the pawnshop with April 2 and Endras and lights go down in the office.

April 1: Every year our town had something called the Beet Festival. Everyone in a two mile radius closed their stores and got dressed up to come and compare their home grown, abnormally large beets. Girls my age and older were expected to dress in gowns and participate in the Great Beet Eat Off, put on by the mayor. Considering my gag reflex, I was less than thrilled, but I went to get ready anyway, seeing as it was mandatory.

By now lights should be completely off in office. Endras and April 2 on floor of pawnshop. April 2 sitting by mirror wearing ball gown and silly bands doing her makeup. Endras brushing April 2’s hair.

Endras: Braids?

April 2: Whatever’s fine.

Endras: I take it you’re not excited.

April 2: I’ve never hated anything more than the idea of stuffing myself with beets in front of the entire town.

Endras: It’s enough to make you want to run away.

April 2: I just want to stay here and hide.

Endras: Why do you spend so much time in here anyway?

April 2: Um…why don’t you just focus on the braids?

Endras: I wasn’t trying to…I was just curious.

(beat)

April 2: I like the stories.

Endras: Oh. The stories. That makes…absolutely no sense.

April 2: Everything in here has a story. Somebody loved it once, and had to give it up. It’s neat, in a tragic way. I want a story someday.

Endras: A tragic one?

April 2: I don’t know. Sometimes tragic stories are the best kind.

Endras: I know how you feel.

April 2: Really?

Endras: When I was your age I wanted nothing more than to get out of this place.

April 2: But you’re still here. Are you going to…

Endras: What, leave?

April 2: Yeah, I guess.

Endras: Someday, of course.

April 2: Do you want to, though?

Endras: I don’t know.

April 2: Well, I mean, you could stay here forever if you wanted.

Endras finishes off April’s braids and April turns to look at her.

Endras: No, I couldn’t. You want to leave because you’re young, April. I need to leave because someday I won’t be young.

April 2: That doesn’t make any sense.

Endras: I know. It’s complicated, but you’ll understand someday.

Endras puts braids over April’s shoulders and April turns to look in mirror.

Endras: Good?

April 2: Definitely good.

Endras: See you at the festival?

April 2: (heading offstage) Not if I see you first!

Lights go down in pawnshop, go up in office, show April 1 typing

April 1: I decided to leave after the first time I gagged on a beet. I lasted ten minutes. I didn’t want to get caught outside the festival, so I snuck into the pawnshop through a back window.

Lights go down in office, go up in pawnshop to show Jessi already sitting on floor and April 2 coming in.

Jessi: You’re welcome.

April 2: You’re here too?

Jessi: Who do you think left that window open for you?

April 2: I don’t know, I didn’t really think about it.

Jessi: You lasted long.

April 2: Eh, only ten minutes.

Jessi: I lasted about two.

April 2: Wow. I cant tell if I should be impressed or shocked or…

Jessi: Yeah. I’m not really one for beets though.

April 2: Me neither. Hey, I was talking to your sister.

Jessi: Endras? Why?

April 2: Hair.

Jessi: Oh. Well, so?

Aril 2: Is she going to leave?

Jessi: Who knows? Someday, maybe.

April 2: What’s keeping her?

Jessi: Us, I guess. Her family…and Arden. This is where she grew up. She’s never seen anything else, you know.

April 2: Oh.

Jessi: Why?

April 2: I was just wondering. Are you worried she’ll leave?

Jessi: Not really. I mean, she’s bound to sometime. And when Ella left we were fine.

April 2: Yeah, I guess.

Jessi: You’re worried.

April 2: No. Just curious.

(enter Arden)

Arden You’ve got to be joking! What do I have to do to get away from all of you people?

Jessi: Beet Festival isn’t your thing either?

Lights go down in pawnshop, up in office where we can see bags of mail spilling over. April 1 still typing.

April 1: Yeah, Jessi and I got caught on that one and you can bet Arden wasn’t too happy to see us. But I came out of that day with something on my heart. Someday, Endras was going to leave. And deep down I had a feeling it would be soon.

(enter Ducky with another stack of mail, sets it down on April’s desk)

Ducky: You haven’t answered any of it?

April 1: I’m busy. You know that.

Ducky: I know. But it also might be time to think about what’s next.

April 1: I know what’s next! Endras—

Ducky: No, not next like that. Like, what happens when this story ends. This will be over in a few weeks, April, and you need to think about what comes after it.

April 1: (jokingly) A pay raise hopefully.

Ducky: This is kind of a big thing. People from all over are following this story and they’ll be reading when it’s done too. You can’t just go back to…compiling.

April 1: I know. There will be more stories.

Ducky: And maybe it’s time to answer some of that mail?

April 1: On it.

(exit Ducky, April goes back to typing)

As April 1 is speaking, lights go down in office and up in pawnshop.

April 1: July passed almost as quickly as it came and between back to school shopping and the dreaded yearly visit from Aunt Roberta I almost forgot about Endras for a while. But on Tuesday I went back to the pawnshop. Tuesday was the day everything changed.

Arden: Store’s closing early today. I have guests coming.

Jessi: My sister hardly counts as a guest.

Arden: Yeah, well, I have to prepare so get out.

April 2: Actually, it’s still normal business hours, so we’ll be staying.

Arden You sure about that?

April 2: Definitely sure.

Arden: Fine then. (points to cleaning supplies) Grab a rag and start cleaning.

Jessi: You’re making us work?

Arden: I’m not making you do anything. You can leave at any point.

Jessi: Wait…are you going to pay us?

Arden: Do I look like I have the slightest inclination to pay you?

April 2: Aren’t there laws against this?

Arden: Nope. There are laws banning forced child labor. You guys are choosing to stay and do this with no pay. You can leave whenever you want.

April 2: Fine, I’ll get the shelves.

Jessi: I’ll beat the rug.

Lights go slightly down in pawnshop and up in office.

April 1: That was one of the longest mornings of my whole life. My wrists ached from rubbing the shelves, and Jessi’s fists were bruised from beating that rug—though I guess that’s what she gets for deciding to use her bare fists instead of a racket.

Lights go back down in office and up in pawnshop. April wiping tables and Jessi is busy punching the rug. Endras enters.

Endras: Whoa, he’s got you guys working for him?

Jessi: Hey, Endras.

Endras: How much are you earning?

April 2: Oh, he’s not paying us.

Endras: Really, Arden? Aren’t there laws against that?

Arden: They chose to do this. And they can stop now.

April 2: Oh, you’re actually going to close early?

Arden: Didn’t you hear me say I was this morning?

April 2: Yeah, I just thought it was a way to get rid of us.

Arden: Nope. Leave the cleaning stuff on the counter. See you guys hopefully not tomorrow.

Jessi: Well aren’t you a little ray of pitch black?

(April 2 and Jessi put stuff on counter, turn to leave)

Lights go down in pawnshop so Jessi can leave and April can get into position near exit. Lights go up in office.

April 1: Now, this is when I’d pretend to leave. There was a little corner by the door where Arden wouldn’t see me but I could see and hear him. I could hear for myself my biggest fear.

Lights down in office, back up in pawnshop.

Endras: You closed the shop for me…what are you gonna do, propose?

Arden: I cant live with this.

Endras: Aw, they’re young. I was the sa—

Arden: Not them.

Endras: What then?

Arden: You.

Endras: Me?

Arden: Staying here

.

Endras: Aw. I like it here. You’re here.

Arden: I hate that I’m keeping you.

Endras: You’re not!

Arden: What else is, then?

(Endras is silent and stares at floor)

Arden: You cant live like this either—I cant let you.

Endras: Where else would I go?

(Arden pulls out envelope and offers it to Endras)

Endras: You know I cant—

Arden: Take the rest. Please.

Endras: How’d you know?

Arden: I saw the letter on your dresser.

Endras: I cant leave.

Arden: I’m not going to make you. What I am going to do is put the rest of the money you need in the envelope and it’s your choice what you’re going to do.

Endras: It’s such a good school.

Arden: I know.

Endras: You’ll be—

Arden: Fine.

Endras: You’ll be fine. I’ll be fine too.

Lights go down in pawnshop, all people in it exit. Lights go up in office.

April 1: I think I knew Endras was gone before Jessi did. I didn’t know who I was mad at. I didn’t know if I was mad or sad. There were too many things I couldn’t figure out.

I didn’t go to the pawnshop for a few days. I didn’t go see Jessi. I didn’t go see Arden, only for fear of what I might say to him. There were lots of theories on where Endras went. Not all of them were very likely and not all of them were very nice, but they all centered around one thing. Arden.

Lights go down in office and almost all the way up in pawnshop. The lighting on this one is gonna be tricky—it needs to be darker but not super noticeably darker.

Arden: I knew you’d come back someday. What a surprise.

(death stare from April)

Arden: Wheres the other one?

April 2: You know darn well where she is, so I suggest you don’t play around with me.

Arden: Your mother raised a real lady out of you, didn’t she?

April 2: She raised me to know more than which fork to use at a banquet, thank you very

much. And anyway, I don’t think your mom had any idea you would turn out so…so…

Arden: I like when someone like you insults me. It means I don’t have to play nicely anymore.

April 2: Why did you do it?

Arden: I had no choice.

April 2: No choice but to what? You could have just…I don’t know, but she would have stayed!

Arden: I couldn’t do that to someone like her! She shouldn’t be stuck here forever, and she needed coaxed.

April 2: Why, though?

Arden: Why?! Look at you, April! You’re not happy here! Why should anybody else be? People shouldn’t live like this! It’s not…humane!

April 2: But where else would she go?

Arden: It doesn’t matter. It doesn’t matter that they hate me. I did what was best for her.

April 2: Her whole family is…they’ll drive you out of town!

Arden: Then let them. She’s gone! She’s left for a better life!

April 2: I just—

Arden: I didn’t want her to settle. I loved her too much. I didn’t want her to have a life

like mine.

(beat)

Arden: (mumbling)There’s nothing like seeing a flower wilt right in front of your eyes,

April. I would know.

April 2: What’s so bad about about your life anyway? Why did you even come here if you knew you’d be so miserable?

Arden: Some things aren’t meant to be uncovered.

April 2: You can be a real pain, you know that?

Arden: I know.

April 2: So you haven’t seen…

Arden: Jessi?

April 2: …Yeah.

Arden: Go get her.

April 2: I don’t think she really trusts you right now. I don’t think anybody does.

Arden: That’s okay. You don’t have to bring her here. Just…just go talk.

April 2: Bye then, I guess.

Arden: You watch yourself.

Lights go down in pawnshop now, and only light very front, center stage, where April 2 and Jessi are gonna sit.

April 2 : Hey.

Jessi: So you know already. Gosh, this whole stinking place does.

April 2: What, did you want me to not know?

Jessi: Kind of, I guess. But I mean…it’s fine.

April 2: Yeah.

Jessi: I just want things to be normal again. It’s normal that she left. It is. But everyone’s

acting like it’s not. Everyone’s acting like it’s…she’s…

April 2: Dead?

Jessi: Yeah. Dead. Everyone’s acting like she’s dead. But, I mean, what did they expect?

Everyone leaves. We will too someday. Nobody’s meant to stay here. This place is a

waste and if you stay too long you do die.

April 2: That was…brutal.

Jessi: I know. But it’s honest.

April 2: Are you ever going to go see…

Jessi: I’m waiting for things to…well, die down a bit.

April 2: Oh, I was just won—

Jessi: I know you have. It’s okay. I’m not mad. I was kind of hoping you would.

April 2: Really?

Jessi: Yeah. Did he…did he say anything?

April 2: He was defensive.

Jessi: He should be.

April 2: But he was proud too. He knows what he did. He knows not everyone’s happy.

But he’s happy with himself.

Jessi: He should. He gave her a better life than she’d ever have here.

April 2: Do you miss her?

Jessi: Not yet…that’ll kick in soon, though. After all these sympathy cards stop coming

(picks one up off floor)

April 2: Are you serious?

Jessi: (reading from card) Our dear friends, we are so sorry for your loss.

April 2: (laugh) Who’s it from?

Jessi: I have absolutely no idea.

(Both girls laugh again, dies down into awkward silence)

Jessi: You miss her.

April 2: I never said that.

Jessi: You didn’t have to. I can tell.

April 2: I’m sorry. She was your sister, not mine.

Jessi: You’re allowed to miss her.

April 2: But I shouldn’t.

Jessi: But you should. She’d like it if she knew.

(beat)

April 2: You must be dreading the day you leave.

Jessi: Eh, I’m not that worried. It all blows over within a week, and then it’s like you

were never there at all.

April 2: So are you gonna…do you you wanna go?

Jessi: To the pawnshop?

April 2: Yeah, I guess.

Jessi: Yeah. I guess.

April 2: Now?

Jessi: No, not now. Just…I want time first.

April 2: Okay. Should I…

Jessi: No. I’ll come on my own time.

Lights go down on stage, then up in office.

April 1: It took some time to realize, but Jessi was sad too, but in her own way. While I tended to run towards my feelings, she would run away from hers. She was afraid. She was sad. Sure she had seen it all before, but she knew she was next.

It was all enough to make you want to stay, really.

(enter Ducky)

Ducky: Wow.

April 1: It’s good?

Ducky: It’s…it’s wow.

April 1: I know.

Ducky: But…it’s ending soon?

April 1: Oh, yeah.

Ducky: And it’s got a happy ending?

April 1: Depends on how you look at it.

Ducky: April! You can’t—-

April 1: What?

Ducky: This story can not have a sad ending!

April 1: I don’t think I’d really call the ending sad.

Ducky: But it’s not happy?

April 1: Not exactly. But it all…it’s okay.

Ducky: I don’t…

April 1: Why?

Ducky: This newspaper has sold more copies in a day than it used to in a week because

of that story, April. All these letters (motions around room) are waiting for a happy ending.

April 1: Well, I don’t know then. That was their assumption. This is a true story. I cant go back in time and change it.

Ducky: I know, but what if you just…I don’t know, bended some things?

April 1: Excuse me?

Ducky: Bended. Fictionalized.

April 1: Lied?

Ducky: Well, only slightly.

April 1: No!

Ducky: No?

April 1: I cant do that.

Ducky: It’s your story, but it’s also your job.

April 1: Are you saying you’d fire me if it’s…

Ducky: Look. I’m not saying I’ll need to. But please…

April 1: I’m not lying.

Ducky: Okay. I’m um…looking forward to seeing how this ends.

April 1: I know.

Lights go up in pawnshop to unveil Arden and Endras standing at opposite ends reading “letters” to each other.

Arden: To my love…

Endras: To my love…

Arden: I hope you’re happy.

Endras: I’m happier than I ever dreamed I’d be.

Arden: The town’s in shackles.

Endras: The town wants a scandal, I’m sure.

Arden: The girls are coming again.

Endras: Tell the girls I miss them.

Arden: I don’t go a day without thinking about you.

Endras: I don’t go a night without remembering the lights in the shop and how they’d shine on the street like stars.

Arden: I lie awake sometimes and wonder if I did the right thing.

Endras: I lie awake sometimes and wonder if I ever should have left.

Arden and Endras: It’s like…you can never really know. You just…have to imagine.

Arden: I did it all so you’d be happy.

Endras: I’ve never loved anyone more than I love you.

Arden: I’ve never wanted anyone more.

Endras: I’ll come home someday.

Arden: I’ll come visit someday.

Endras: Love…

Arden: Always…

Endras: And goodnight.

(Endras leaves and Arden stands hugging his letter)

Arden: Goodnight to you too.

(Endras exits and Arden sits in his chair and put his head down.)

Arden: Maybe…maybe I should.

Lights go down very briefly and go up to unveil Arden and April 2 in their usual positions.

Arden: Are you still mad at me?

April 2: No.

Arden: Would you be mad if I left?

April 2: No.

Arden: Why?

April 2: Would I get this chair if you left?

Arden: I haven’t thought that far yet.

April 2: Why would you even ask that?

Arden: Endras left.

April 2: Yeah. I know.

Arden: It hadn’t hit me till today, I guess.

April 2: But you’re the one who…

Arden: Who what?

April 2: Who nothing.

Arden: It’s okay. I know what they’re saying about me.

April 2: You’re not mad.

Arden: You’re not regretful.

April 2: You’re not leaving.

Arden: I don’t know that.

April 2: Where would you leave to, anyway?

Arden: Some solitary island, probably, habited only by tropical birds and lots of money.

April 2: You don’t even know where you’d go!

Arden: I wouldn’t need to.

(enter Jessi)

April 2: You’re here.

Jessi: Nobody’s talking anymore.

Arden: And then there were two…again.

Jessi: Wow, he’s pleasant.

April 2: He’s happy.

Arden: Happy I have my best cleaners back again.

April 2: I think I’d rather just sit today.

Arden: Okay.

Jessi: Endras wrote.

Arden: I got one too.

April 2: Is that why you’re leaving?

Jessi: No!

Arden: No.

Jessi: (screaming) You can’t!

Arden: I should.

Jessi: You don’t understand, do you? What it’s like to lose a sister and finally get back to

normalcy and then have normalcy gone too? Do you not get it? Is it all a joke to you? Is it a punch line? Do you care that I need this?

Arden: I’m not here to just be someone’s normal!

Jessi: Maybe that’s what I need you for though right now!

April 2: Quiet!

(beat)

Arden: I have two weeks.

April 2: You already sold the shop?

Arden: Yeah.

Jessi: Where are you gonna go?

Arden: No idea.

Jessi: Why are you gonna go?

Arden: Because I’ve learned all I could here.

(very awkward beat)

April 2: So can I have the chair?

Arden: We’ll see.

Lights go down in pawnshop and up in office. While April 1 is doing monologue, stage crew comes on and strips pawnshop of everything except chair and cash register.

April 1: The next few weeks were a mess of packing boxes in the pawnshop. One by one, everything disappeared, till one day all that was left was the chair and the cash register, without even a table to put it on.

Back to school began taking our town by storm and in the midst of number two Smencils, Heelys, and Lisa Frank backpacks it seemed like everybody but me and Jessi forgot Arden was leaving.

Lights go back down in office and up in pawnshop. All furniture except cash register and chair should be gone by now. Arden sits behind cash register and Jessi and April squeeze together on the chair.

Jessi: You know nobody’s gonna come in today, right?

Arden: You never know, and I could use all the profit I can get.

April 2: Well, I’m not going to let them buy my chair, so unless you plan on selling the cash register…

Jessi: I’ll happily take that off your hands, by the way.

Arden: Thanks for the offer, I’ll happily consider it.

Jessi: Wait, really?

Arden: Over my dead body.

Jessi: It was worth a shot.

April 2: Do you need help cleaning the place up?

Arden: I’m not gonna pay you.

April 2: I know. It’s okay.

Arden: Have at it. Cleaning stuff’s by the door.

(April 2 walks offstage briefly to get cleaning stuff)

Lights go dark in pawnshop and up in office.

April 1: I guess I just wanted to clean the shop one last time. I want to see every last

corner and tuck it somewhere deep in my mind and never forget it. Having Arden leave still came as a shock to us. It didn’t really register yet that the summer was going to end.

Arden left the last day of summer and he left the chair on the sidewalk for me.

Lights go up near pawnshop, all that should be left is the chair with a free sign on it.

(April 2 is sitting in chair when Jessi walks up)

April 2: He’s gone.

Jessi: Yeah, I know.

April 2: I don’t know why we bothered coming back.

Jessi: I guess we didn’t want to believe it.

April 2: I couldn’t make myself think it was for real, you know? I just thought maybe if I didn’t…

Jessi: I just hoped it was a way to get us out of his hair.

April 2: Yeah.

(beat, the two girls awkwardly stare at each other)

Jessi: It’s been a weird summer.

April 2: It has.

Jessi: But somehow…I don’t know, I just—I loved it.

April 2: Because it was different.

Jessi: Huh?

April 2: It was different. You woke up every day not really knowing what was going to happen. Nothing really stayed the same. Maybe we just never noticed before.

Jessi: I was sad when Endras left, you know.

April 2: I know.

Jessi: I just…it was easier to pretend, you know?

April 2: I was sad, too.

Jessi: That’s good, though.

April 2: I guess so

(long beat)

April 2: Are you…are you sad about this?

Jessi: You are. I cant decide yet.

April 2: He gave me the chair.

Jessi: I knew he would.

April 2: I’m really going to miss this place.

Jessi: And torturing him.

April: But it almost makes it better in a way.

Jessi: It—what?

April 2: It was only here for a little while. Right when we needed it most. It was almost…

Jessi: Magical.

April 2: Yeah. And then…we didn’t really need it anymore. It just disappeared.

Jessi: Someday maybe we’ll see it again.

April 2: Nah, it’s better if we don’t think that way. It makes it better.

Jessi: That’s…smart.

April 2: Really?

Jessi: Yeah.

April 2: Thanks.

Jessi: Yeah. Hey?

(both get up to leave)

April 2: Yeah?

Jessi: You gonna come to school this year?

April 2: You know what? I think I might.

Jessi: Cool. Then…see you tomorrow, I guess.

April: Yeah. Bye.

(both girls walk off)

Lights go down for good in pawnshop, chair removed. Lights go up in office. Ducky watching April 1 write over her shoulder, and so are April 2 and Jessi, looking over April 1’s shoulder.

April 1: And that was that. Another summer gone, with only memories to show for it.

Jessi and I didn’t stay best friends. I don’t truly know if we ever were in thefirst place or if were both just in the right place at the right time.

We both eventually grew up. Arden’s pawnshop is now covered in spray paint murals by this next generation of bored teenagers. I like to think Arden went home, wherever that was for him, because I haven’t seen him since that summer.

Jessi left before I did. (exit Jessi)She went to college and her SAT scores made the newspaper. Endras has come home three times since the day she left.

I grew up too, I guess. (exit April 2) I still have Arden’s chair. I sit at it at my desk in my office. I left town, and went to another one just like it. I found city life confusing.

I guess a lot hasn’t changed. I go back home every winter and see for myself. And I go back to the pawnshop and think about the summer of ’08.

(Ducky nods at April 1 and smiles and leaves, April 1 closes her computer and leaves)

Lights go down everywhere on stage.

THE END

(if you made it this far comment “i wanna be ducky” so we can confuse everyone.)

Listen

Shh...

Listen to the silence.

Silence the voices in your head

And listen to the silence.

It will tell you more.

We’re so uniform. So obsessed with lines, with symmetry, with perfection. I often wonder if the gods meant it to be this way. If when they placed the particles of an atom together they knew it would grow into the square lines of property, mowed in straight, differing greens. “This one’s mine, this one’s yours.” It’s ambiguous, and then it isn’t, and then it is again when I ascend further into the black of the universe. Suddenly the symmetry is gone, blurred into the white and green and blue of that little marble. The rules, the regulations, the science that has always strapped me to the floor of the earth like a seatbelt has dissolved into nothing. Nothing but the arbitrary life of what I thought I was existing for.

I’m leaving. I’m going to ask the gods if they really knew what they were doing when they introduced a proton to a neutron, if they can break down all the parts of a cell, if they can explain to me this disaster, this masterpiece. Even if they did, I doubt I’d understand. Maybe they just threw everything into a giant croc-pot like my mother’s chilli recipe. Always hoping for the best, but preparing for the worst.

I want to sit at the dinner table and ask if it turned out how they thought it would. If the January wind that blow by frosty windows was part of the plan. If the smell of wet sidewalks, stamped with the paws of stray dogs and wandering children was in the divine. I want to ask if it looks, if it smells, if it tastes the way they thought it would. If it was worth all the trouble. This beautiful disaster, this horrible masterpiece.

{i}

| i curse my feet for their inability to fly |

| i think effervescent thoughts and pray |

| maybe my body will catch up to my heart someday |

/ lull me to sleep with clinking spoons / windchime cadavers sing from the other side / i want sand between my toes / i want mountain air in my lungs / i want you by my side / i try to touch home, but she eludes my grasp / and i pen her letters and post cards but don't know how to address them / toss them to the wind and hope my heart will catch them in the lands beyond /

{ii}

| i curse my lips for forgetting your name |

| i think of home as a people, not a place |

| maybe you're my sanctuary; maybe you'll fill the space |

/ lick the stucco; see if it tastes like haven / espresso between my teeth, cold brew coating my gums / no wonder i'm wide awake, clutching my hammering heart / longing for solace is normal, i'm sure / but awaking in the suburbs with seawater on my tongue isn't / aspirations and reality swim before my eyes / periotic confusion ruptures my eardrums / paradise is a world away, in my dreamland / will you meet me there someday?

Hey Mr. Epstein, oh hey Mr. E.

On armrest hog charges, you've pleaded guilty.

I'm joking, of course, for your only known fault

Is ripping your pretzel snack, spilling the salt.

No pressure in cabin, no turbulence here;

The skies are not cloudy; the landing strip's clear.

Now close your tray table and overhead bin;

The upright position please put your seat in.

The captain is switching the seat belt sign on -

It's gleaming bright orange like your bestie Don.

Heed not those flashing red lights on the ground;

It's standard procedure for where you are bound.

You think that was bumpy, well, buckle up tight.

I'll see you around (in news headlines tonight).

the edges of the butterfly’s wings fray themselves

pulls bottom eyelid towards bottom lip

strip of pinkened apathy reveals itself as

desirable, flocking towards the nearest broken branch

says that nature is its own devil

snap / bisects in minced syllables

lamants in unworthy / grace

this one weeps in the folds of reiteration

self-preservation hangs from the throes of elegance

kneecap skips and jumps to conclusions

making excuses / self righteousness

finger bends the wrong way

reunites with the half-lidded knuckle

licking an airplane runway down the side of God’s sweaty temple

mind running high off of idealized appreciations

a palm of stretched grape skin

nests itself into a shell of wet eardrum

expands until bursting / protection against

justice, disturbing the nature of things

and the way things contort

do you pretend do you pretend the disruption of the status quo

that such things are

admirable?

do you pretend do you pretend do you pretend that

you are better than

criminals?

Though people die

Daily,

You have to believe they will live.

You have to believe in a future

Better than the past.

Believe in me.

Believe in you.

Survive.

Though people die,

Daily,

They also live.

You have to believe they forgive you

For not dying with them -

Or for them

And live on

Believing you will not die,

Daily.

dinnertime conversation

keeps killing us keeps killing

and i know you don't want to be here

but that's why you have to be here

swallowing down buttery rice grains

picking them out of your throat before bedtime

i can hear you coughing at 3am and

the microwave pushing this boy around this merry go round

we lost it in the deep

we lost you in the deep

asking things like

what is the right way to be happy

or eat dinner or speak to others or

how to grow around your holes be better do better because

learning from your mistakes is hard enough

without you making more and

it's easier to live without questioning if those 'mistakes' were really

mistakes in the first place