Monthly Archives: August 2017

I Know What You Are (part 2)

NICK: Hey.


NICK: What’s this? You uh… you working on a new drag thing?

HARLEY: Not exactly.

NICK: No? Then why’re you wearing a dress? Is it like a… like some kinky “let’s pretend to be a straight couple”… Is that even a thing?

HARLEY: Do you want it to be?

NICK: I mean… if that’s what you’re going for… Maybe a little role-play? I don’t know. It’s not really my—

HARLEY: Well, what if it’s not just roleplay.

NICK: Are you serious? Harvey—

HARLEY: No! No. I’m sorry. My name is Harley now.

NICK: OK, now you’re really starting to freak me out.

HARLEY: This is who I am. Nick. Nicky. This is the real me.

NICK: No. Nuh-uh. This is not—this?

HARLEY: This is me.

NICK: This is not you. OK? I know you, this is not even—that’s not even how you move! You’re all… What is this?

HARLEY: I’m a woman. Nick. I am a woman. I always have been.

NICK: I am not straight!

HARLEY: Are you in love with me? Do you remember what you told me when we first met? Do you remember what you told me when we first met? I said I didn’t get it. The whole gay thing. Do you remember what you said to me? You said if you love someone, what does it matter what’s between their legs?

NICK: How can that not matter?

HARLEY: Wow, Nick. Just… wow.

NICK: I’m sorry, but I like your body. OK? I like your penis. Are you gonna get the operation?

HARLEY: Not right away. It takes years.

NICK: You’ve really thought about this, haven’t you? When were you gonna tell me?

HARLEY: Well, I’m telling you now! OK? First. You are the first person I’m telling. Because that’s how I feel about you.

NICK: How long have you been planning this?

HARLEY: Planning this?

NICK: Yeah.

HARLEY: What, like it’s some, like, betrayal? Like, I’m getting all the senators together and making sure Mark Antony’s somewhere else?

NICK: I am trying very hard to take this seriously.

HARLEY: Oh? Oh! Wow, Nick. It really shouldn’t be that hard.

NICK: How do you expect me to react? Come home from work and my… my boyfriend’s decided he wants to be a girl?

HARLEY: No, Nick, your girlfriend has decided she wants to stop pretending to be a boy.

NICK: I don’t have girlfriends.

HARLEY: Well, thank you for your honesty, Nick. Give me a call if you decide to get over your cisprivilege.


The Geography of Cheating

GALATEA: Omar? Omar! Omar Bingen!

OMAR: Galatea al’Rachid, as I live and breathe. How have you been? How long has it—

GALATEA: I think we saw each other four years ago, didn’t we?

OMAR: That’s right! You were at my going-away party.

GALATEA: Where are you off to now?

OMAR: Oh, I uh, I have a conference. In Dubai. Very important meeting. What about you? How have you been?

GALATEA: Well, I’m just getting back from vacation.

OMAR: Are you traveling alone?

GALATEA: Perpetually.

OMAR: Oh! I’m so sorry.

GALATEA: Well, aren’t you traveling alone?

OMAR: Well, I’m on business. Don’t you have a… I thought I’d heard you were engaged or something?

GALATEA: A little bit. I was a little bit engaged. For a moment.

OMAR: Oh, dear. Are you trying to decide whether to ask about him?

GALATEA: Should I?

OMAR: You can always ask. I probably do have all of the information you could ever possibly need about him. If you really want to know. Do you?

GALATEA: You’re still friends with him, then?

OMAR: I don’t think I’ll ever stop being friends with him.

GALATEA: Even knowing what he is? How he treats people?

OMAR: You and I have very different perspectives on how he treats people. You of course know him as a man whom you loved who cheated on you. I, on the other hand, know him as the man—the only man whom I trusted—who did not judge me or ridicule me when I was at my most vulnerable. So yes, I will remain his friend.

GALATEA: No matter what he does to women?

OMAR: Were you entirely blameless in that situation?

GALATEA: How can you possibly ask me that!

OMAR: How can you ask me to turn against my friend?

GALATEA: What did he tell you?

OMAR: He told me from the start that he never really loved you. I told him from the start that if he didn’t love you, he shouldn’t be committed to what was doomed to be a long-distance relationship.

GALATEA: Was he ever faithful to me?

OMAR: He tried. A few times.

GALATEA: Did he love any of those other girls?

OMAR: I think you know the answer to that. I think you’ve always known. He only ever loved one woman. And she… well…

GALATEA: You mentioned the distance. Do you think it would have mattered?

OMAR: Do you want me to be frank?

GALATEA: This is the place for it, isn’t it?

OMAR: Oh! Right. The Fort. Yes, of course.

GALATEA: Please just tell me.

OMAR: If you two had managed to live in the same city, I doubt very much that he would have slept with anyone else. I think he would have considered that it would have made his life that much easier, being close to you all the time. So if you are asking me if I think he would have cheated, no, I don’t.

GALATEA: So it was my fault.

OMAR: Your mistake wasn’t staying here when he left. If you’d left with him, you’d have been the woman who left everything behind for a man, and he’d have never allowed that. He knew better. Your mistake wasn’t staying, it was loving him in the first place. Because while he might not have cheated if you had been there, that is not the same as being faithful.

GALATEA: He could have grown to love me.

OMAR: Not like her. No, he’s always been a man of adventure. You have always been an open book with your heart on your sleeve. You made a good sidekick and companion on his adventures, but you never could have been his goal. You never had enough mystery. He never had to unwrap you.

GALATEA: So you do know. You do know what he is.

OMAR: A great deal more than you do. That’s my flight. I should be going. I do hope you find what you’re looking for.

GALATEA: Omar. Is he happy?

OMAR: I do not believe he ever will be. Does that comfort you?


“Glory Box”

It’s not that I never wanted to fall in love.

Going into high school, and even in middle school, I didn’t really have a lot of really good role-models for being in love, for love that lasts. It’s one of the few things that I had in common with Isabella Millar. One of the many things that set me apart, attitude-wise, from Lucy.

Here we have society and culture and narrative myths shoved down our throats telling us women are there to be loved, to find love, to find happiness. How could I not want that?

When my mom met Robert Eastwood, I was suspicious. We all were. Why wouldn’t we be? This was just some guy who wasn’t our dad. Not just a stranger—an intruder.

By then we’d already had some missteps. Imagine being thirteen years old in your underwear going into the kitchen in the early morning to find some stranger already there sneaking out the door. Imagine him looking at you. Imagine where on you he might look, and whether your mom would believe you. Her telling you why are you walking around in your underwear to begin with, and not responding when you ask in return why the guy was there at all.

Mom wasn’t perfect, but somewhere deep down we knew she deserved happiness. That was why the bar was so high, high enough that just buying us ice cream and smiling at our teenage achievements wasn’t going to cut it, and that was where Rob started off.

Turned out Mom had known him for a hot minute, longer than she’d even known Dad. Not well. I guess they went to high school together, whatever that means, but I do know more. I know he did something for her, something she appreciated, once. I can’t make out what. Maybe it’s too long ago, too far away for me to be able to make it out clearly, and maybe she doesn’t even remember herself. But she doesn’t have to. From memory, it’s slipped into myth and built palaces in her dreams, on her soul, so it really didn’t take long for her to fall (back) in love with him, once he realized she wasn’t really married anymore.

Getting us, her son and daughter, to fall in love with him, in our own way, was harder work, but seeing how it made her feel, how it made her move, how it changed her, helped, I guess. In a way. To an extent. I guess we were still pretty harsh towards him.

I think part of my suspicion, honestly, had to do with my ability, and the fact that for the longest time, he never really factored into any of my visions.

Was it because his future was uncertain? Looking back on it, that just doesn’t seem likely at all. He’s actually one of the most stable people I’ve ever known, let alone that anyone close to me has ever dated.

Another possibility is that what happened to him and my mother just wasn’t important enough for whatever power sends me these visions to care about. I don’t want to think that. Especially since my new baby brother came into the world, I don’t want to think that. But what else is there?

That “what else” is this: it’s possible that I am getting these visions for a reason. That I’m meant to know the future, in order to make it happen, or maybe in order to prevent it. I can’t imagine preventing some of the things I’ve seen, or even wanting to—or even wanting to have anything to do with them, some of them. But what if I’m being… what if I’m being prepared for something?

And what if, when I don’t get a vision, what if that means something, too? What if that means I was meant not to intervene, or to feel uncomfortable with not having seen it coming? I can’t help but wonder how my relationship with Rob would have progressed there at the beginning if I had known how things would turn out. More to the point, though, I have to question how our relationship would have been if I’d never had visions, if not having visions of him hadn’t made me suspicious.

Was there any reason why I had to be suspicious? Is it possible that my resistence, added to my brother’s, had some effect on the situation? Would things have been different for him? Would he have acted differently? Or would it have all been the same?

Whatever else is true, it made it clear to me I’m being used. It wasn’t something I’d ever really thought about before. But now I have to think. Now I have to dwell. Now I have to be a teenager and do what teenagers do best.

I have to brood.



The enemy had invaded. It was the one they had always been taught to fear and hate. “It is because they fear and hate us,” the older generations had always said. “It is because they are powerful and they take what they want and they control our rulers so that we cannot grow as a nation.”

And now, the enemy had finally gotten tired of them fighting back. “They are coming,” was the whisper. It was everywhere, like the buzzing of planes drowning out the birdsong. They were dropping bombs.

“Don’t worry,” says one, “They’re only aiming for military targets.” Maybe they often miss, or maybe they’ve started to realize every one of these people is a threat because every one of these people hates them.

“I just want to be safe,” says the child, and the mother doesn’t know how to answer.

The child grows into a boy and the boy to a young man.

“We need to fight back,” they tell him. “We are a proud nation and we are under attack. The enemy? They don’t share our values.”

“Remember who you are,” the young man’s mother tells him, “Remember what I taught you, how I raised you.” But everything is so different now, here.

“Your mother was not a true patriot,” the other young men tell him, and the older men, the men who are in control, who have been fighting this war the longest, the most effectively. “She never truly knew our ways—she has been corrupted by the enemy. The things she has taught you will not keep us safe. They will not even make you safe.” They beat the corruption out of him.

There are many people in this nation who have been made weak by the enemy’s corruption, or so the young man finds. But isn’t there something wrong?

“We must stamp out the enemy’s corruption!” say his companions, so in the name of fighting the enemy, what do they do? They do worse to themselves.

Finally, the young man finds his way to the enemy. “I just want my family to be safe,” he tells them.

“They will be,” the enemy promises.

The road is long and the road is hard, but step by step, the young man and the people he cares for are brought out of their country and taken to a new one on the far side of the world. They find a home, find a job, try to put the past behind them.

“Papa,” says the young son, “why do the people here behave so differently? Why do they think differently? Why do they have different language?”

“People are just different,” says the father, “in different parts of the world. They don’t think like us.” But there are things the man does not say at that time.

“Daddy,” the son asks when he’s older, “are we bad people?” He has been told at school by the other children that he is the enemy (and even once, it seems, by a teacher).

“Of course not,” says the father, remembering the poeple he left behind, the things that they did, but also the bombs of the enemy. And he reminds himself he has not seen the kind of rampant outrage here that made him abandon his homeland.

Most days are good here. Most days, nothing actually happens. People are nice, respectful. They are different, which reminds him of how different he must seem to them, but most days, they do not attack him. Most days. However, now and then, often enough to keep him desperate, there are looks and there are words. They do not come to blows (yet) but they remind him why these people, where he grew up, were known as the enemy.

“Why do you hate us so much?” he asks a stranger one day. The stranger looks taken aback at first, but once the ice is broken, she says “A lot of terrible things have happened and I guess you just remind us of that. You make us feel unsafe.”

“So you make us feel unsafe, then,” he replies. “Because you feel unsafe? Wouldn’t it be better to help us feel safe again? Wouldn’t that make you feel safer?”

“I guess?” says the stranger, “But we don’t want you to feel unsafe or uncomfortable. We just want you to be, you know…” She wants to say “normal”. She doesn’t, but he can hear it from her heart.

“You want us to be like you,” he says, “because you don’t want to be yourselves corrupted by the enemy.”

The Ring Cycle

DEXTER: Good morning.


DEXTER: I don’t really spend a whole lot of time out here.

GABRIELLE: I can tell.

DEXTER: Yeah, I’m kind of a fuck-up.

GABRIELLE: I’m sorry.

DEXTER: It’s not you. You’re going back, aren’t you?

GABRIELLE: I’m sorry.

DEXTER: It’s okay. I always knew you were. Honestly, you being here at all, coming here, that was the surprise.

GABRIELLE: You didn’t want me to come?

DEXTER: Of course I wanted you to come, I just never thought you would.

GABRIELLE: I’m sorry if I’ve made you feel unwanted—

DEXTER: Hey, no. Don’t do that. You don’t owe me anything.

GABRIELLE: I do, though. For me. Because I… I don’t know, I’ve always…

DEXTER: Please don’t.

GABRIELLE: Just a little bit.

DEXTER: That’s not exactly what I want to hear.


DEXTER: You just said. You’re leaving.

GABRIELLE: Isn’t it better to have loved and lost?

DEXTER: It’s better not to lose at all. Just to keep on loving. I mean, I get it. I’m a fuck-up.

GABRIELLE: Stop saying that, you’re not a fuck-up—

DEXTER: Well, then—I’m sorry, maybe you just don’t—I need to be a fuck-up. I need that. Because if I’m not…


DEXTER: Being a fuck-up is my only excuse for not winning.

GABRIELLE: Don’t think of it as winning.

DEXTER: That is not up to you.


DEXTER: What’s this?

GABRIELLE: What’s it look like?

DEXTER: Why would you give me your engagement ring?

GABRIELLE: I lost it. I went away for the weekend, ‘cause I had to get away… and I lost it.

DEXTER: That makes no sense at all to me.

GABRIELLE: It doesn’t have to. I don’t care.

DEXTER: What do you expect me to do with it?

GABRIELLE: I better get going. Don’t wanna be late for my own wedding, right?

Irreconcilable Compromise

SHARONA: Hey, babe.

DEREK: Hey. Welcome home. Happy anniversary.

SHARONA: Anniversa—oh, shit, that’s right! I’m sorry—

DEREK: It’s okay.

SHARONA: No, I was thinking about this for a while, I had this whole thing that I wanted to do with like candles—

DEREK: Ooh, candles.

SHARONA: Yeah, and like this whole romantic dinner.


SHARONA: Hold on, you know what? I bet we still could.

DEREK: Yeah?

SHARONA: Yeah, it won’t be, like, all-out with the steak and stuff, but I bet I could whip up that pasta thing—

DEREK: Yay! Pasta!

SHARONA: We could both slip into something nice.


SHARONA: And then later maybe we could… you know.. slip out of something nice.


SHARONA: What? What is it? What’s up?

DEREK: Nothing, I just…

SHARONA: You don’t want to? It’s been a hot minute. Hey. Is something wrong? Derek.

DEREK: It’s just…

SHARONA: Look, I don’t want to pressure you or anything, but… Is something wrong?

DEREK: No. No, it’s just… I don’t want to. Is that okay?

SHARONA: Yeah, no, that’s fair. That’s fair, you’re not, you know, you’re not in the mood or whatever, maybe you’re just not… in that space.

DEREK: Sharona. That’s not it.

SHARONA: What? What is it?

DEREK: OK, so… now don’t take this the wrong way, I don’t want you to be, like… This is not about you, OK?


DEREK: I think I… don’t actually like sex. Please, don’t think like, that’s not a reflection on you, I mean you’re not the only person I’ve had sex with, right? I’ve tried, enough though I, I mean it was more just curiosity, I think, than lust, and then it just became more about expectations, you know, and about I want to make this person happy. And I do. I do want to make you happy. But it’s just, I don’t actually get anything out of it for myself and that makes it…

SHARONA: It’s not fair to you. That’s what you’re saying. Yeah, no, that’s… I’m sorry.

DEREK: Hey, you don’t have to be sorry—

SHARONA: You’ve never, like…

DEREK: And I’m not saying that, like, that I didn’t want to? Like, not that I didn’t want to, you know? Just because I didn’t… I know that you like it.

SHARONA: And I mean, you’re not bad at it. Like, at all.

DEREK: I picked up some tricks. You know. I paid attention. Tried to.

SHARONA: Did you ever… I mean… It just, it always seemed to me like you enjoyed it.

DEREK: And I did. I did. Just not… It’s not me.

SHARONA: What, like it was some other person enjoying it?

DEREK: Like I was putting on a—no, that’s not—

SHARONA: So it wasn’t really you enjoying it?

DEREK: That’s not what I—

SHARONA: You never actually wanted to have sex with me.

DEREK: I did. I did want to have sex with you. I just never wanted to have sex. As me. But now… I’m just, I don’t know, I’ve been starting to realize… I need to be me. And part of that is, you know, cutting back on the parts of my life that are not… me.

SHARONA: Well, you picked a hell of a time to bring this up.

DEREK: I’m sorry.

SHARONA: I guess if I’d actually gone all the way and done the candle-light dinner beforehand, this would be…

DEREK: I mean, we still could. I’d still like a candle-light dinner, just not…

SHARONA: So you’re saying the romantic stuff is fine, you just don’t want the sex?

DEREK: I like the romantic stuff. But yeah.

SHARONA: So hold on. Let me get this straight. You’re not actually breaking up with me?

DEREK: What? No! On our anniversary?

SHARONA: Wait, wait, so… You want a relationship, just not the sex.

DEREK: I have to be true to myself. And… I do love you. I want to be with you.

SHARONA: Just not physically.

DEREK: Sharona.

SHARONA: Well, I do like sex.

DEREK: I know.

SHARONA: I really like sex with you.

DEREK: Thank you. And I mean, maybe I could…


DEREK: I don’t know.

SHARONA: I thought you just said you wouldn’t.

DEREK: Well, I don’t know. Maybe, like…

SHARONA: I like sex. Derek. You know me. I like sex, I like it often, I like it rough, I like it sensual, I like variety. I like doing it with the person that, you know. What are you actually asking of me?

DEREK: I’m not asking anything—

SHARONA: No. No, you are. Because you say you want a relationship. But you don’t want sex. You want me to be celibate.

DEREK: That’s not really the same thing.

SHARONA: It is to me. I love you, but—

DEREK: But you love sex more.

SHARONA: Hey! That is not fair!

DEREK: Isn’t it, though?

SHARONA: You’re asking me to compromise in a way that… I mean, I shouldn’t have to make that kind of… Do you want me to have sex with other people? Is that it?

DEREK: Oh, is that what you want? You can’t get your sex inside the relationship, so you use that as an excuse to—

SHARONA: What excuse? I wouldn’t be doing it if you didn’t—

DEREK: If I didn’t what? Force you to sleep with other people?

SHARONA: Why is it more virtuous not to have sex?

DEREK: That’s not what I’m saying.

SHARONA: Yes, you are. I like sex. You don’t like sex. You want to be in a relationship with me, an exclusive relationship with me, but you don’t want to have sex. You want me to compromise my values—

DEREK: That’s not fair—

SHARONA: I’m not judging. Not yet. Just wait, I’ll get there. This is an assessment. Having sex is a value for me. In my value system, sex is a good thing. It is a way of connecting, it is a way of enjoying someone’s company, and tehre is nothing wrong with wanting it and wanting it a lot. Those are my values.

DEREK: What about being with me? How does that factor into your “values”?

SHARONA: You don’t value sex. Obviously. Sex is not important to you. That means we have a different value system. I do love you. But for you to expect me to give up sex to be with you—

DEREK: I mean, now and then, sure—

SHARONA: But you just said you don’t enjoy it! Do you ever enjoy it? Why would I want to have sex with someone who isn’t enjoying having sex with me? That’s not fair to you because it’s not really consent, and it’s not fair to me because, I mean, what does that make me? What does that say about me, having sex with someone who doesn’t really want to have sex? But if I can’t have sex… How is that fair to me?

DEREK: Are you breaking up with me? Is that what’s happening here? I… God, I can’t believe it, I can’t believe you’re breaking up with me because I don’t want to have sex with you.

SHARONA: I want to have sex, Derek. Consenting, adult sex. What’s wrong with that?

DEREK: Can we still have romantic dinners? Long walks on the beach?

SHARONA: Derek… You need to be with someone—


SHARONA: —who appreciates—

DEREK: No! Stop it! I love you! Don’t you love me?

SHARONA: What does that mean? To you, I mean? I mean, I know what it means to me.

DEREK: What does it mean to you? That you want to have sex with me? Is that it?

SHARONA: That is part of it. If I was having sex with you and not doing all the gooey stuff, yeah, no, that wouldn’t be love, either. But without the sex…

DEREK: What’s the point?

SHARONA: There’s something missing.

DEREK: That’s still a shitty attitude.

SHARONA: And pretending to want sex just to be with me isn’t? Look, I’m not saying there’s anything wrong with not wanting to have sex. You’re just… you’re not the person I thought you were. Just do me a favor. Next time you… when you do find someone. To date. To be romantic. Don’t pretend you like sex just to—

DEREK: I won’t.


DEREK: Do you think that…


DEREK: Do you think I’ll find someone?

SHARONA: Someone else who wants romance but not sex? I don’t know. But in this day and age… I guess we know they’re out there.


LYDIA: Do you know how to use that?

DARRYL: What, this?

LYDIA: It’s a fine weapon you have there.

DARRYL: Are you supposed to be holding that one? Isn’t that somebody’s prop?

LYDIA: I’m the prop-master. Well, assistant prop-master. Well, I was. On a different show. I know what I’m doing.

DARRYL: Well, OK. I guess that excuses your holding it—although I’m not convinced. But should you really be waving it around like that?

LYDIA: I’m not just “waving it around”. I’m testing the weight.

DARRYL: Is that even a thing?

LYDIA: Of course it’s a thing. You’ve got to know how it’s weighted if you’re going to be waving it around.

DARRYL: I thought you just said—

LYDIA: I know what I just said! I’m testing the weight.

DARRYL: Got it.

LYDIA: How’s yours?

DARRYL: I don’t know. I haven’t tested it.

LYDIA: I don’t believe you.

DARRYL: It’s fine.

LYDIA: Is it?

DARRYL: Why exactly are you testing the weight?

LYDIA: To fight you.

DARRYL: Oh. Of course. How silly of me.

LYDIA: Don’t you want to fight me?

DARRYL: I mean…

LYDIA: What? Is it because I’m a girl?

DARRYL: I think it’s more because I’m an actor and I’m trying to be conscious and aware of the fact that this is my prop, and I haven’t been trained in how not to hurt people when I’m using it.

LYDIA: So it is because I’m a girl. You assume you’ll be the one hurting me if anything goes wrong?

DARRYL: Yeah, OK, there might be a little bit of ohmychristshesgonnakickmyass going on here.

LYDIA: Hm. Honesty. From a male. How refreshing.

DARRYL: I do try.

LYDIA: Well, you’ll have to try harder, soon. Defend yourself!

DARRYL: You’re Lydia, right?

LYDIA: I am.

DARRYL: Kelly was so disappointed you were coming back. She’s been enjoying understudying for you.

LYDIA: Kelly isn’t as good of an actress as I am.

DARRYL: Well, she’s certainly not near as assertive. Well done.

LYDIA: Thank you.

DARRYL: We still shouldn’t be doing this.

LYDIA: Why ever not?

DARRYL: It’s not appropriate.

LYDIA: Oh, pish.


LYDIA: Pish and piffle.

DARRYL: That doesn’t sound very nice.

LYDIA: People overestimate how nice I am.

DARRYL: Noted.

LYDIA: You’re Darryl, aren’t you?


LYDIA: Benvolio, isn’t it?

DARRYL: Whenever I can.

LYDIA: How on Earth don’t you have any fight scenes?

DARRYL: I mean, I draw my sword, but… I don’t know. They cut them out. Benvolio is supposed to be like the peacekeeper. It’s a Latin thing.

LYDIA: A Latin thing?

DARRYL: The name. “Benvolio”. “Ben” means “good” and the “volio” has to do with like wanting, like “benevolent”? Same root.

LYDIA: Huh. So you’re a pretty smart guy?

DARRYL: I mean… I’m in college.

LYDIA: I’m in high school.

DARRYL: So I gathered.

LYDIA: Are you a Freshman?

DARRYL: Rising Junior.

LYDIA: So am I. I mean, I’m old for a sophomore, ‘cause of circumstances, but…

DARRYL: You liking it?

LYDIA: School? No. Hell, no.

DARRYL: Going to college?

LYDIA: M-m. No.

DARRYL: ‘Cause you don’t like school?

LYDIA: That, and it’s expensive.

DARRYL: That is true.

LYDIA: I figure the people who should be going to college are the people who actually want to go to college. I’m not gonna be a doctor or a teacher or anything like that, so… It’s kinda wasted on me.

DARRYL: There are other reasons to go to college.

LYDIA: Like what?

DARRYL: Learning.

LYDIA: Learning what?

DARRYL: Anything.

LYDIA: If I really want to learn anything, I can hang out at the library, read it for myself. Not to mention, there’s the Internet?

DARRYL: There’s something about… college, though.

LYDIA: What is it?

DARRYL: I don’t know. Maybe you have to be into it. Hey, I thought we were done fighting.

LYDIA: Now we have something to fight about!

DARRYL: Oh, yeah? What are we fighting about?

LYDIA: Truth! Knowledge! Justice! I say that true knowledge isn’t found in books, it’s found in the human heart!

DARRYL: Well, then let’s cut out your heart and find out!

LYDIA: Oh, ew!

DARRYL: Was that too much? Hey!

LYDIA: Ha-ha! A hit! A very powerful hit!

DARRYL: Palpable hit.

LYDIA: Palatable hit!

DARRYL: That, too.

LYDIA: Are you getting distracted? Ow!

DARRYL: Oh, shit! Are you okay? Ow!

LYDIA: Ha-ha! I got you again!

DARRYL: No, seriously, though, are you all right? It looked like I got you in the eye.

LYDIA: I’ll survive!

DARRYL: I think we should stop now.

LYDIA: Coward!

DARRYL: I’d rather be branded a coward than actually skewer you.

LYDIA: I could skewer you first!

DARRYL: Lydia. Let me see. Oh, shit, that’s an actual scratch.

LYDIA: I’m okay. It didn’t actually break the skin.

DARRYL: You’ll be okay.

LYDIA: Do you have a crush on Sophia James?

DARRYL: Say what?

LYDIA: Do you?

DARRYL: Is it that obvious, or did Michelle blab?

LYDIA: I could blame it on Michelle, sure. I don’t know if it’s obvious, but… I noticed.

DARRYL: Does she know?

LYDIA: Do you want her to know?

DARRYL: Do you think it would do me any good?

LYDIA: I could find out for you, if you want.


LYDIA: You look like you’d be cute together. Do you think it’ll get infected?

DARRYL: I actually can’t even see it anymore.

LYDIA: Good. Until we meet again, villain!