FML howCarsonMcCullerssavedmylife 3

fml: how Carson McCullers
saved my life
by
SARAH GUBBINS
Dramatic Publishing Company

Woodstock, Illinois ● Australia ● New Zealand ● South Africa
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©MMXII by
SARAH GUBBINS
Printed in the United States of America
All Rights Reserved
(FML: HOW CARSON MCCULLERS SAVED MY LIFE)
For inquiries concerning all other rights, contact:
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Phone: (212) 556-5740
ISBN: 978-1-58342-847-4
IMPORTANT BILLING AND CREDIT REQUIREMENTS
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grams distributed in connection with performances of the play and in all in-
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“Produced by special arrangement with

THE DRAMATIC PUBLISHING COMPANY of Woodstock, Illinois.”
In addition all producers of the play must include the following acknowl-
edgment on the title page of all programs distributed in connection with
performances of the play and on all advertising and promotional materials:
“fml: how Carson McCullers saved my life was originally commissioned

and originally premiered at Steppenwolf Theatre Company, Chicago, Ill.,
Martha Lavey, artistic director, and David Hawkanson, executive director.”
Venue: Steppenwolf Theater, Chicago
Date: February 28, 2012
Original Cast:
Jo ....................................................................... Fiona Robert
Emma .................................................................... Zoe Levin
Mickey................................................... Ian Daniel McLaren
Reed.......................................................Bradley Grant Smith
Ms. Delaney .................................................... Lily Mojekwu
Artistic Director............................................... Martha Lavey

Executive Director.................................... David Hawkanson
Artistic and Educational Director,
Steppenwolf for Young Adults ..................... Hallie Gordon
Production Director .........................................Joanie Schultz
Scenic Design ............................................... Chelsea Warren
Costume Design .............................................. David Hyman
Lighting Design ...................................................Lee Keenan
Sound Design ................................................. Thomas Dixon
Projection Design ................................................. Mike Tutaj
Violence Choreography........................................ Matt Engle
Comics Artist...................................................Lydia Conklin
Casting.............................................................. Erica Daniels
Dramaturg.......................................................... Aaron Carter
Stage Manager .......................................... Cassie Wolgamott
4
saved my life
CHARACTERS
JO: A high-school junior. Has wicked basketball skills. Also a
graphic artist. A lesbian.
EMMA: A transfer student. Also a junior. Divides her time
between the popular kids and the not so.
MICKEY: A high-school junior. Best friends with Jo. Also
gay, he’s over the entire high-school thing.
REED: Jo’s older brother. Mid-twenties. College drop-out who
spends his days pretending to be a DJ.
MS. DELANEY: The new English teacher. Mid to late thirties.
She carries a sorrow so deep it’s calming.
SETTING
LaGrange, Illinois. Present day.
PROJECTIONS
All the panels, chapter titles and text messages called for are
panels from Jo’s graphic novel, fml: how Carson McCullers
saved my life. As such, they should all have the unified look of
a single artist’s hand. All projected text and images appear in
bold in stage directions.
5
saved my life
Scene:
AT RISE: In the black the echoing sound of a package

dropping to the stage floor. A shaft of tight light finds a
manila envelope. MS. DELANEY steps on stage. The
package is addressed to her. She rips open the envelope
and finds a graphic novel inside.
MS. DELANEY (reading the cover). fml: how Carson

McCullers saved my life (flips more pages and reads for a
beat.)
(Blackout. Sound of thousands of pages flipping. Pro-

jected in black and white the scrawled letters:
fml:
Then:
how Carson McCullers saved my life
Then: The piercing whistle of an oncoming commuter
train. Followed by the rumbling rush of the train pass-
ing. The words are engulfed in the blaring white light of
an oncoming train.
Chapter 1
Projection of the exterior of a high school.
7
8 fml: how Carson McCullers saved my life
In the whiteout we hear a cacophony of slamming lock-

ers, hallway din and finally the period bell.
“In the school”)
Scene: English Class
(Room 415
JO, EMMA and MICKEY all sit on chairs. A number of
empty chairs give the impression of a classroom full of
students. It’s a Catholic school. The seats are in tight,
orderly rows. MS. DELANEY stands before the class.
She has a sheaf of papers. She begins her stroll through
the aisles.)
MS. DELANEY. My apologies to those of you who com-

pleted all the summer reading … (Soft groans as she dis-
tributes a new reading list.) … but I’ve made some
changes to Mr. Knox’s list.
(New groans. EMMA takes the list.)
MS. DELANEY (cont’d). Most notably the first book we

will be reading this year will not be All Quiet on the
Western Front. As excellent a book as that is, I’m replac-
ing it with another.
(MS. DELANEY hands JO a list. JO takes it without

looking up.)
MS. DELANEY (cont’d). Young lady, your name please?

fml: how Carson McCullers saved my life 9
(All turn to face JO, who is quietly scanning the list.

PING. A text appears on screen:
TYLER: who she calling lady?
EMMA surreptitious texts back: PING.
EMMA: lol)
MS. DELANEY (cont’d, consulting class roster in her

hand). Excuse me—Josephine is it?
JO (startled). Oh, Jo. Just call me Jo. I go by Jo.
(PING.
TYLER: cuz im a dude
PING.
EMMA: smh. u bad)
MS. DELANEY. Right. Jo. Can you read aloud tomorrow’s

assignment.
JO (buried in the paper). “Pages one to fifty-three of The
Heart Is a Lonely Hunter.”
MS. DELANEY. Thank you. We will, as always, have a
short reading comprehension quiz on the day your reading
is due.
(Soft groans.)
MS. DELANEY (cont’d). Really? Shall I just take it on faith

that you all will be prepared to discuss the reading?
(MICKEY’s hand shoots up.)

MS. DELANEY (cont’d). Uh, Malachi?

MICKEY. I go by Mickey.
MS. DELANEY. Mickey.
(PING.
TYLER: dude looks like a lady
EMMA shoots back a text.
EMMA: putting away my phone u so bad
EMMA reaches for her bag and drops in her phone. She
glares playfully at an unseen student behind her.)
MICKEY. Is that the reading we’re supposed to have done

by tomorrow?
MS. DELANEY. Exactly.
MICKEY. But that’s like a week’s worth of reading in
twenty-four hours.
MS. DELANEY. Well, we can’t discuss a book until you’ve
read it.
MICKEY. Right, I mean, I know you’re new and everything,
but usually we don’t have that much reading overnight.
MS. DELANEY. I see. Well Mr. Knox and I have different
teaching styles. Any further questions?
(Silence. MICKEY reads the syllabus then shoots his

hand up.)
MS. DELANEY (cont’d, consulting her roster). Mr.

Windlap. Something else?
MICKEY. Does that mean we have another forty pages due
the following day?
MS. DELANEY. Brilliant. Your math skills are excellent too.
(Audible groans. PING. EMMA reaches for her phone

and reads the text.
TYLER: this blows)
MS. DELANEY. So, since there seems to be a bit of preoc-

cupation with the reading load in our AP English class,
I’m going to show some clemency and give you a jump
start on homework by reading aloud some of the book.
Clemency? Anyone want to define that? (Sees EMMA
with her phone.) Miss—Rogers?
EMMA. Emma.
MS. DELANEY. Cell phones are not permitted in class.
(Holds her hand out.)
EMMA. Oh, I’m new here, but I thought we could have
them, just not use them. You know, for security and all.
My mom wants me to have one.
MS. DELANEY. You appeared to be using yours.
EMMA. No, I was just looking up what clemency meant.
MS. DELANEY. Right. You were using your phone. But I
shall show you some clemency this once. Meaning?
EMMA. Uh?
JO. Show compassion?
MS. DELANEY. OK, compassion is good. Or to show leni-
ency. (To EMMA.) Next time I keep the phone. (Back to
class.) I want to start today’s class by asking you to think
about beginnings. The first line of any story or novel is
the author’s chance to welcome you into his or her world.
“I am doomed to remember a boy with a wrecked voice.”
Anyone recognize that from the reading list? (Looks
around the classroom for a response.) A Prayer for Owen
Meaney. How about: “The grandmother didn’t want to go
to Florida.” (Waits.) No? (Waits.) I could have sworn A
Good Man is Hard to Find was on your sophomore litera-

ture syllabus, isn’t that correct, Mr. Windlap?
MICKEY. Yeah, we totally read that.
MS. DELANEY. Good to hear. So in those two very distinct
opening sentences you have two very different welcomes.
The first sentence of any story is the moment the author
begins his or her relationship with you—the reader. Some
writers will coax a reader, some will shock, some will
quietly entreat you to join them. Some will be embar-
rassed and reticent to talk to you. But no matter their tac-
tic that opening sentence defines the kind of relationship
the two of you will have. ’Cause that’s what reading is,
right? A relationship between you and an author.
(JO draws in the margins of her notebook.

The face of MS. DELANEY is projected on the screen
behind her.)
MS. DELANEY (cont’d). Let’s see what path Carson

McCullers chooses in her novel, The Heart Is a Lonely
Hunter.
(JO continues to draw.

The face of MS. DELANEY evolves into a complete fig-
ure holding the book, The Heart Is a Lonely Hunter.)
MS. DELANEY (cont’d, reading). “In the town there were

two mutes, and they were always together.”
(JO steps away from her desk—she is lost in her own

thoughts, MS. DELANEY continues to address the class.)
JO. In school there was one of my kind. I was always alone.
(Panel of JO standing alone.)
MS. DELANEY. “Early every morning they would come

out from the house … where they lived and walk arm in
arm down the street to work.”
JO. I was dreading another year at St. Paul the Unbearable.
MS. DELANEY. “The two friends were very different … ”
JO. And she was the new English teacher.
MS. DELANEY. “Every morning the two friends walked
silently together”
JO. When I saw her, I knew this year was going to be differ-
ent.
MS. DELANEY. “ … until they reached the main street of
town … ”
JO. Before her, I would dread walking through the halls.
MS. DELANEY. “The thin mute, John Singer—”
JO. The silent laughter. The hateful eyes.
MS. DELANEY. “nearly always put his hand on his friend’s
arm—”
JO. The way the girls would step at least a foot away when I
walked past.
MS. DELANEY. “ … put his hand on his friend’s arm … ”
JO. Like accidentally touching my arm would give them
some strange terrible disease.
MS. DELANEY. “ … put his hand on his friend’s arm and
looked for a second into his face before leaving him.”
JO. But now I had Room 415 to look forward to.
(JO’s drawing has grown, escaped the margin, taken
over the full page. The figure of MS. DELANEY hold-
ing the book like a baton to JO crouching at her desk in
fear.)
MS. DELANEY. “Each day was very much like any other
day … ”
JO. Just get to Room 415. She will be there. She will be
waiting for me.
MS. DELANEY. “In half-dreams he saw his friend very
vividly,”
JO. I looked at the clock that first class with her. Only five
minutes left!
MS. DELANEY. “and when he awakened a great aching
loneliness would be in him.”
JO. How could I miss someone so terribly I only just met?
MS. DELANEY. “And so the months passed”
JO. The seconds slipped by …
MS. DELANEY. “in this empty, dreaming way.”
(Bell rings, end of class.)
MS. DELANEY (cont’d). We will pick this up tomorrow.

And begin with that quiz you are all so excited about.
(MS. DELANEY leaves. EMMA turns to JO, a not-so-

subtle flirtation.)
EMMA. We still on for Chem Lab?

JO (returns to her desk, slams her notebook shut). What?
EMMA. Chem? Problem sets? It’s like Swahili to me.
JO. Yeah.
EMMA. Cool. So you’ll be early tomorrow?
JO. Not too early.
EMMA. I gotta run, Tyler’s waiting, seven thirty?
JO. Yeah. Sure. Sounds good.
(EMMA is gone. MICKEY sits next to JO.)

MICKEY. What are you doing with that?

JO. With what?
MICKEY. That vapid disaster.
JO. She’s all right.
MICKEY. She’s dating a football player.
JO. She’s nice.
MICKEY. Uh-huh.
JO. Once you get to know her. I’m sure she’s nice.
MICKEY. Because you’ve spent all of forty minutes with her.
JO. What am I supposed to do? Hate on my lab partner? I’m
stuck with her all quarter.
MICKEY. You think she’s pretty.
JO. She’s fine. She’s totally fine. I didn’t even notice.
MICKEY. These are lies. She’s totally pretty. And that’s
why you’re giving up your homework. So classic.
JO. I’m giving up my lab answers because she’s lost, and
Chem sucks, and she asked so nicely.
MICKEY. What, they didn’t have science in California?
JO. Noted.
MICKEY. What?
JO. It’s been noted. You think Emma’s lame.
(MICKEY flips open JO’s notebook.

The drawing of MS. DELANEY appears.)
JO (cont’d). Hey—don’t mess with—

MICKEY (sees her drawing). Oh, wow, these are new.
When did you start this?
JO. Just now. It’s nothing. I was spacing out.
MICKEY. No, no, this is like the start of a whole new story
line.
JO. They are just stupid drawings.
MICKEY. But you know what you need?

JO (seizes it back from him). My sketchbook back.
MICKEY. You need an alter ego. Like a superhero self.
JO. OK.
MICKEY. Some sort of arch-defender.
JO. Right.
MICKEY. Who thrashes the forces of evil out of our college
preparatory experience.
JO. I’ll get right on that.
MICKEY. All the while harboring a deep dark crush on the
new English teacher.
JO. I do not have a crush on—
MICKEY. Of course you do—she’s one of our tribe.
JO. C’mon, Mickey, she’s not.
MICKEY. Are you kidding? As the day is long.
JO. You think?
MICKEY. Totally. Gay, gay, gay, gay-gay.
JO. I can’t believe I missed that.
MICKEY. My work is never done. What are you doing after
school? Can I come over?
JO. I got practice.
MICKEY. Fine. I’ll be over after that. (Takes off.)
Scene: Prologue
JO (turns to the audience and addresses them). Can we stop
here a second? That wasn’t really the beginning. It’s just
where stuff starts happening. And since this is my first
graphic novel, I didn’t really think you guys would read
anything that came before chapter one. So since you’re
still reading let me back up a little.
(Prologue appears on the screen.

A new drawing appears. It’s the middle of the town of

LaGrange. Specifically the old train station.)
JO (cont’d). This is LaGrange. Where our story takes place.

It’s a suburb. About twenty minutes from Chicago. Noth-
ing wild about it. It’s one of those older suburbs. Like
over a hundred years old. You can tell from the old Victo-
rian houses that sit up on the main street. The town’s di-
vided north and south by the railroad tracks. The Burling-
ton Northern. Heads straight for the city. My high school,
St. Paul the Unbearable, is on the north side of the tracks.
Every couple of years someone will try and dash across
the tracks, late for work usually and end up killed.
There’s no other way across. You think someone would
build a bridge or a tunnel or something. But it’s always
been like this. Ever since I was a kid. No tunnels yet.
(Drawing of the blinking cross-gates caught in mid de-

scent, in the distance an approaching train. JO stands
next to her bike, knapsack on back weighing her down,
looking across the tracks at the distant figure of MS.
DELANEY on the other side.)
JO (cont’d). So yeah, LaGrange. We got all the normal

things. A Starbucks. Panera. One great burger joint.
There’s a movie theater downtown—across from the li-
brary.
(Panel of a run-down Victorian house in the midst of

repair.)
JO (cont’d). I live here. It’s a shit-hole on the south end of

town. The ‘bad’ part of town. I just didn’t want you to get
the wrong idea. I didn’t want you to think that we were

rich or anything. ’Cause we’re not.
(The drawing fades.)
JO (cont’d). OK, end of Prologue.
Scene: Jo’s Bedroom
(Chapter 2 then mixed messages

PING.
EMMA: where u @?
JO: watchin’ the voice, adam is crushin’, u?
PING.
EMMA: freakin out in some mansion.
JO: sounds fun?
PING.
EMMA: pick me up. pleazzz. going crazy
JO: where u?
PING.
EMMA: no clue.
JO: k. im comin. figure it out.
Lights come up on JO’s bedroom. REED sits on the dou-
ble bed in the near dark with Skullcandy cans over his
ears. He’s mixing up something special on his Mac. He
drinks a Redbull. JO and EMMA bust through the door,

flipping on the light.)
EMMA (to the tune of Elton John’s Your Song). “Ba ba ba

EVERYBODY, Ba, ba ba da.” What’s that song called?
JO. Reed! Get out. You have your own room.
EMMA. C’mon you know it.
JO (to EMMA). Shhhh. I mean it.
EMMA. Are you shushing me? Am I being muted?
JO. No you just need to be quieter—
EMMA (squeals as she sees REED on the bed). Oh my god,
Reed!
(EMMA has climbed up on the bed and startled REED

who didn’t hear them come in. He rips off his head-
phones.)
REED. Jesus. Hi Enema.

EMMA. You are hilarious. So effing funny. Do you know
that? And mature. Supremely mature, also. Oh god. I need
to sit. (Plops herself down on the floor.)
JO. Reed. Vacate. Now.
REED. I’m in the middle of something.
EMMA. Noooo. Wait, he knows this song? Who sings this
song?
REED. What song?
(EMMA hums Elton John’s Your Song.)
JO. He doesn’t know. We don’t know.

EMMA. Jesus, it’s like Lynard Skynard or The Eagles or
something totally ’70s. Shazam it while I sing.
REED. Do not confuse Skynard with The Eagles.
EMMA. We should ask your dad.

JO. C’mon, my dad’s asleep.
EMMA. Your dad would totally know. He’s all into that
’70s style I bet he totally loves Mick Jagger. Does he love
Mick Jagger? Does he got moves like Jagger?
JO. Yes, as a matter of fact, he does—drink this.
(JO hands EMMA a Gatorade bottle. EMMA finds this

amusing.)
REED. What’s the song again?

JO. Reed! Stop it.
EMMA. What song?
REED. The song you had stuck in your head.
EMMA. Oh! Yeah! “Ba ba ba EVERYBODY ba ba ba ba … ”
JO. I’m going to kill you Reed.
REED. Yeah, that song sounds familiar. Do it again.
JO. Reed, OUT!
EMMA. Don’t be such a spaz. You should be nice to your
only big brother.
JO. This is my room.
EMMA. I wish I had a big brother. They are so hard to
come by; you’re lucky.
REED. Enema is so right about this, Josephine.
EMMA. Jo, let me tell you something. (Gets her serious
face on, but can’t quite focus.) You need to cherish what
you got. You need to be thankful. OK?
JO. And you need to not wake up the whole frickin’ house-
hold? OK?
EMMA. You know who we should call? Your hermit crab.
Call him. He’ll know. He’ll totally know. He’s like fact-
boy. Call the hermit crab now; dial and I’ll sing.
REED. Who’s the hermit crab?
JO. Guys, don’t call him that.

EMMA. What’s wrong with hermit crab?
JO. His name is Mickey. Call him Mickey. All right?
EMMA. I like hermit crabs. You ever have a hermit crab?
They’re sweet. And clean.
REED. She’s hilarious like this.
JO. Go get her some food. She needs to eat.
REED. We don’t have any food.
JO. Find some food. Saltines or something.
EMMA. I’m not hungry.
JO. You need something in your stomach; you’ll feel better.
(To REED.) What did you guys have for dinner?
REED. Mom’s working. Dad picked up KFC. You can nuke
the bucket.
JO. Watch her. Make sure she doesn’t fall asleep. (Storms
off.)
EMMA. Oh that is disgusting. I haven’t eaten fast food for
like ten months.
REED. Really? Ten whole months. That’s like how many
weeks?
EMMA. I don’t know. Twenty-seven or something. The
point is that stuff is gross. It’s not food, all right Reed?
REED. OK.
EMMA. I’m serious, you got to promise me. You have to
promise you won’t eat any of that shit anymore.
REED. OK. I promise.
EMMA. I’m being so serious. And you know what’s the
worst?
REED. I have no idea and the suspense is killing me.
EMMA. The corn.
REED. Really? The corn?
EMMA. We are all eating way too much corn. Like in corn
syrup. Corn syrup’s the worst, it’s in everything.
REED. It is not.
EMMA. Oh, yeah. It’s in your bread, and cheese, and milk
sometimes. Mountain Dew—obviously. Like everything.
(Grabs a pillow from the bed and lays down on it.)
REED. Up, up, up.
EMMA. Just let me lie here for a second. (Closes her eyes
but keeps talking.)
REED. Not until I hear about the corn syrup conspiracy.
That sounds super dangerous.
EMMA. People say that when we die, when we start to de-
compose in our coffins, we’re going to start sprouting
corn. Like stalks of corn coming out of the graves. True
story.
(JO returns with crackers.)
JO. Hey, Emma, wake up. Great job, Reed.

REED. What? She’s awake. Aren’t you, enema.
EMMA. I’m wide awake, my eyes are just heavy.
JO. Go make us some mac and cheese or something.
REED. We’re out of milk.
JO. Just use water.
REED. All right, fine. (Exits.)
JO (hands EMMA a cracker). Hey, sit up. Eat this. I promise
you’ll feel better.
EMMA. I think it’s passed now. I’m feeling fine. Just let me
sleep a little.
JO (lines up the crackers). Not until you eat five of these.
EMMA. You’re mean.
JO. OK. Four.
EMMA. I wouldn’t have called you if I knew you were go-
ing to freak out on me.
JO. We just spent two hours parked outside a Dunkin’ Do-

nuts while you puked your guts out in the bushes.
EMMA. Yeah, so I over-did it this time.
JO. I don’t know why you let Tyler drag you around.
EMMA. It wasn’t his fault. I probably didn’t have enough to
eat or something.
JO. Do you even know where he went? He left you alone
with some creepy guy in the middle of nowhere.
EMMA. Burr Ridge.
JO. Yeah, Burr Ridge is the middle of nowhere.
EMMA. And I said thank you. What do you want? You
want me to like get on my knees? Splay myself out on the
ground? (Gets on the ground and makes an exaggerated
show.) Oh, most perfect Jo-Jo. Thank you, thank you,
thank you.
JO. Get up.
EMMA. How can I ever repay you, my favorite lesbian
chauffeur—
(JO gets on the floor and tries to put her on her feet.
EMMA embraces her suggestively. They struggle for a
bit. JO backs off suddenly.)
EMMA. No need to get all touchy.

JO. I’m not.
EMMA. OK.
JO. I’m just saying Tyler’s—he’s not good to you.
EMMA. Oh shit! Where’s my phone? He’s probably called
like fifty million times already. (Looks in her purse for
her phone.) Where the hell is my phone. We got to go
back. We got to get my phone.
JO. Double check your bag.
EMMA. Oh my god! I left it in the McMansion. We’ve got

to go get it, Jo.
JO. Hang on, I’ll call it.
(JO takes out her phone and calls EMMA’s phone. A cell
phone rings, an identifiable Lady Gaga tune.)
EMMA. It’s ringing. Where the hell is it?
(The phone is in the bed. JO finds it. EMMA snatches it

away from her, kisses the phone.)
EMMA (cont’d). Thank god. (Checks her phone throughout

the following conversation.)
JO. I can’t believe you’re going to text him.
EMMA. Listen, Tyler’s a good guy. They were probably
going on a beer run and got sidetracked.
JO. Are you seriously defending him? The guy who was
chucking lawn furniture at your face?
EMMA. He was aiming somewhere else and it slipped.
JO. It doesn’t matter!
EMMA. I know he got a little out of hand tonight. You
don’t know him as well as I know him.
JO. I’ve known him since middle school. You just met him.
He’s always doing crazy shit. You didn’t have a car. He
gets shit-faced. How did he think you were going to get
home?
(PING.
TYLER: u outside?)
EMMA. I don’t know. I didn’t interrogate him. Tyler and I

don’t interrogate each other. Unlike some people.
(PING.
TYLER: im outside. where r u?)
EMMA (cont’d). Why are you acting like my mom? All law
enforcement?
(EMMA: had 2 go. got a ride.)
JO. I’m not.

EMMA. You totally are. All disapproving and shit. It’s to-
tally clear you don’t like Tyler. You’re not doing a really
good job hiding that.
JO. I don’t know what you see in him. He’s totally self-
absorbed. He treats you like crap. And also he’s a major
ass.
EMMA. Don’t hold back.
JO. Sorry, I just think you can do better.
(PING.
TYLER: im so wasted i just punched a tree)
EMMA. You know people can make mistakes? Ever hear of

that? People can do things and realize those things are not
so smart and then—you know, maybe do things different-
ly. Why do you think I called you?
JO. I just think you wouldn’t have gotten so trashed if you
weren’t with Tyler—
EMMA. Yeah, ’cause I do everything he says.
JO. Well, you kinda do.
EMMA. Oh my god. I do not.
JO. OK.
EMMA. I don’t.
JO. OK.
EMMA. You think I do? I don’t. I hang out with you. For
one.
JO. So what? What’s that prove?
(PING.
TYLER: where r u????)
JO. Tyler doesn’t like you hanging out with me? What a—
EMMA. I didn’t say that. You’re so pissy. I didn’t say that.
He’s fine about us hanging out.
JO. He said that?
EMMA. Yes. He’s fine about it.
(EMMA: @ Jo’s)
JO. Did you have to ask his permission or something?

EMMA. No. Which is what I’m trying to tell you. He’s a
good guy. He’s not threatened. Or anything.
(PING.
TYLER: Y U THERE? Y DID U LEAVE?)
JO. He’s a good guy because I don’t threaten him? Why

would I be threatening?
EMMA. He’s not
EMMA (cont’d). JO.
threatened. What’s he got to be threatened by?
EMMA (cont’d). Jesus, Jo. Just drop it.
JO. OK.
(PING.
TYLER: dont let her get all lesbo on you

EMMA: hahaha
PING.
TYLER: unless i cann watch.
EMMA. lmao)
EMMA. There’s no problem. Why do you have to make an

issue out of everything?
JO. I’m not. No issue. Everything’s fine. If you say he’s fine
with us hanging out. It’s fine.
(PING.
TYLER: 4 real, ill kill her if she touches u.)
EMMA. He doesn’t care.

JO. Does he think I’m into you? Like I’m going to steal you
away from him? That’s insane.
EMMA. No. Just forget it. Let’s watch something. You
wanna watch something?
JO. Not really.
(Beat.)
EMMA. Look, it’s like if I was hanging out all the time with
some guy.
JO. I’m not a guy. And we don’t hang out all the time.
You’ve been here four times.
EMMA. OK, but you aren’t into guys, you’re into girls. So
that’s sorta the same thing.
JO. If Tyler’s so jealous, why call me? There are plenty of

other girls you could be friends with.
EMMA. I didn’t know we were going to have an Oprah
moment. I like you, Jo.
(REED returns with the bucket of fried chicken.)
REED. I found a lovely protein-rich and savory snack for

you ladies.
EMMA (sees the chicken. It sends her into a wave of nau-
sea). Oh my god. Get that away from us!
REED. Crispy and hot! (Waggles a drumstick at her.)
EMMA. I can feel the MSG flying through the air. Like an
airborne virus.
JO. Emma wants to watch something. What do you have on
your laptop?
REED. I’m using it.
JO. Right.
REED. What? I have a gig next week. I’m working.
JO. You do not.
REED. I’m headlining at Jerry’s.
JO. That is not a gig. That’s an open mic.
REED. I’m on the posters, OK?
EMMA. When is it?
REED. Next Saturday. But it’s the late show.
EMMA. We should go, right Jo? We want to hear DJ
McReedy.
JO. No we don’t. All he’s got is electronic. Seven minutes
of a gull dying mixed with a car alarm.
REED. Jo doesn’t get my sound.
JO. We’re going to watch TV
REED. Good luck with that. Dad canceled the cable.
JO. When?
REED. I don’t know. Like last week.

EMMA. You should come over to my house. I mean we
have cable. Not Showtime. Which blows. But still.
REED. You can’t have my car.
JO. We’re not going now. But if by “my car” you mean the
Nissan. It’s dad’s I already used it.
REED. I pay for gas. That makes it mine.
(EMMA crawls into JO’s bed. PING.

TYLER: u still there?)
JO. Can you grab us some extra pillows?

REED. What do you think this is? The Red Roof Inn?
JO. Reed! Find some!
EMMA. And take that chicken with you; it’s making me
want to hurl.
REED. And will you be needing some extra towels? (Exits.)
JO. Jesus.
REED (popping his head back into the room). Continental
breakfast starts at six. (Shuts the door.)
(PING.
TYLER: U need me to come over there?
PING.)
JO. You gonna text him back?

EMMA. No. It’s not important.
(EMMA checks her phone.

TYLER: I hope you’re passed out and not getting all bi-
curious.)
EMMA (cont’d). I don’t care if you sleep here too. It’s your
bed after all.
JO. I’m not tired.
(EMMA puts her phone away. PING. PING. PING. EMMA

checks her phone.
TYLER: You already have a boyfriend,
no need for second best.
Half the package.
EMMA settles in the bed. JO settles on the floor.)
EMMA. Thanks for letting me stay.
(PING.)
Scene: English Class
(Chapter 3 then the symphony returns

Music plays, a piece by Mozart.
Panel of a chalkboard with the words THE INSIDE
ROOM written in block letters.
MS. DELANEY stands facing the class and reads from
The Heart Is a Lonely Hunter.)
MS. DELANEY. “Mick sat down on the steps and laid her
head on her knees. She went into the inside room … With
her it was like there was two places—the inside room and
the outside room … “
JO (addresses the audience). I knew exactly what Mick was
talking about. But it wasn’t something you could just de-
scribe in words.
MS. DELANEY. “School and the family and the things that
happened every day … “
JO. Mom and Dad, Reed, basketball practice, even Emma—
MS. DELANEY. “were in the outside room.”
JO. But in this place, the inside room, that’s where I could
think a million secret thoughts—
MS. DELANEY. “Foreign countries and plans and music.”
JO. And I could see all the things I wanted to draw. But in
their most perfect form—
MS. DELANEY. “When she was by herself in this inside
room … “
JO. These huge feelings and big dreams … would finally
spring out—
(Panel of JO sprouting wings and transforming into

ST. MICHAEL.)
MS. DELANEY. “A new part of the symphony would sud-

denly come to her.”
JO. All the loneliness, the stupid awkwardness, just van-
ished.
(Panel of ST. MICHAEL standing in the classroom,

wings sprouted, the novel tucked under one arm.)
MS. DELANEY. “In the hot sun and in the dark with all the
plans and feelings, this music was her—the real plain
her.”
JO. I was free. Unbound. Soaring—
(Panel of ST. MICHAEL leaping above the classroom

desks.)
MS. DELANEY. “She could not listen good enough to hear

it all … The music boiled inside her—”
JO. I was usually alone in this space. But hearing Ms. D
reading out loud, she was with me, and the sounds of
Mick’s symphony were washing over us …
(Panel of ST. MICHAEL standing on MS. DELANEY’s

desk.)
MS. DELANEY. “Each note like a hard, tight fist that

socked at her heart—the whole world was this symphony,
and there was not enough of her to listen.”
JO. In disjointed bits and pieces. Low oboes. Mourning vio-
lins. Trembling cellos. All cloaked in Ms. D’s voice. The
sounds of loneliness transformed into such beauty.
(Panel of MS. DELANEY and ST. MICHAEL dancing

on the desk. Surrounded by a sea of empty desks and
chairs.)
MS. DELANEY. “Wonderful music like this was the worst

hurt there could be.”
JO. Something resonated beneath my ribs. I wondered for
the first time if this was what it felt like to be in love.
(Panel of MS. DELANEY and ST. MICHAEL dancing

from one desk to another. Like waltzing on a lily pond.
Mozart music swells. Then trails off.)
Scene: Shooting Hoops
(Chapter 4 then game on

Panel of JO’s run-down Victorian.

JO dribbles a ball onto the stage. MICKEY sits on a
plastic milk crate pouring over her sketchbook. JO tries
some fancy, ball-handling tricks. Goes up for a lay-up.
Misses.)
JO. Goddamnit. (Tries it again. Brick.) Screw this!

MICKEY. Step back. Take a break.
JO. Not until I score. (Goes up for another. Brick.)
MICKEY. You scored twenty points last game. You’re get-
ting greedy. (On sketchbook.) You know, you’re really
good.
JO. Shut up.
MICKEY. I’m serious. You’re like a young Chris Ware or
Alison Bechdel.
JO. I’m not that good.
MICKEY. But you could be.
JO. Whatever.
MICKEY. Whoa! Who do we have here? You took my
idea! Your superhero persona. What’s he called?
JO. St. Michael. And it’s a girl.
MICKEY. As in the archangel, throwing Satan out of heaven.
Very Catholic. Very butch. I want a cut when you publish.
JO (goes up for one more. Brick). As if. (Starts again. Fal-
ters. Recovers and dribbles around.)
MICKEY. What do you mean? I inspired it.
JO. I drew it.
MICKEY (on sketchbook). Who’s this with the atrocious
hair?
JO (dribbles over). Where?
MICKEY (amused). This hot mess.
JO. That’s you.
MICKEY. WHAT?
JO. What’s wrong with your hair? It’s a comic. Exaggera-
tion is key.
MICKEY. I look insane.
(JO goes back to dribbling. MICKEY is pissed. He holds

the sketchbook up to his face for a comparison.)
MICKEY (cont’d). There’s not even a vague resemblance.

JO. I think it feels like you.
MICKEY. How can you say that? This is nothing like me.
JO. Hey, Mickey, chill out, it’s not that big a deal.
MICKEY. This is OFFENSIVE. You’re like my best friend.
And this is how you see me?
JO. It’s a character. It’s not you.
MICKEY. Right. Right. And St. Michael’s not you either?
JO. It’s just a stupid drawing. I’m sorry you’re all offended
by it.
(MICKEY doesn’t say anything.)
JO (cont’d). I think the clothes are right. And the shoes.

MICKEY. The shoes are fine. But I’m an after-thought
compared to Ms. D, whose attitude is just leaping off the
page.
JO. Leaping off the page; that’s good!
MICKEY. Yes. Which is cause for concern.
JO. No, it’s not.
MICKEY. I think you’re getting a little obsessive.
JO. I’m not.
MICKEY. She’s a teacher. She has grown-up teacher
friends. And a life.
JO. I know. I know.
MICKEY. And you’re starting to show your hand. St. Mike,

we’re not going to be in high school forever.
JO. She’s really interesting. You have to admit it. That’s not
just me.
MICKEY. OK. Fine. But still, you hang after class every
day. People notice. It’s becoming super obvious you’re
crushed out on her.
JO. I’m not crushed out on her. I’m not like, wanting to se-
duce her or anything. Maybe get coffee.
MICKEY. JO! Back away. That’s illegal.
JO. To have a coffee with a student?
MICKEY. Great. Go for it. (Can’t help himself.) This is like
the worst idea you’ve ever had.
JO. So what am I supposed to do?
MICKEY. Oh, don’t ask me that.
JO. I’m serious.
MICKEY. We just have to get through. You know? In two
years, this is going to be nothing. You’ll be at Cal Arts or
someplace. RISD. With some vegan girlfriend. I’ll be at
NYU, president of the foreign film club. We’ll laugh at
this.
JO. I just wish we could talk. You know—like really talk. I
think we would have these amazing conversations. Like
about all the books she’s read. And about Carson McCul-
lers. I imagine we would just sit in a small European-type
restaurant. Maybe downtown, or maybe, I don’t know, in
Hinsdale. Some really cute place. And there’s music play-
ing in the background, you know, something, I don’t
know, what would be playing?
MICKEY. How about Erik Satie or Jacques Brel?
JO. Yeah, yeah. And she tells me all about her life. Like
about her family, and what she does for the holidays …
MICKEY. Uh-huh. Anything else?
JO. And OK, all the women she’s been in love with.
MICKEY. Good, good.
JO. And all the places she wants to travel to like—
MICKEY. Maybe the Uffizi or the hot springs of Reykjavik.
JO. Exactly, but even though she’s been so many places al-
ready and seen everything I sound really smart when I’m
talking. Like I’m this thrilling interviewer. And she just
wants to keep talking. And then we get kicked out of the
restaurant ’cause it’s closing and we’ve been there for
five hours. And …
(Panel of classroom dance from previous scene.)
MICKEY. And then the clock strikes midnight.

JO. No-no. C’mon.
MICKEY. And you get in your car.
JO. And I get in my car.
MICKEY. And drive home to this glorious palace.
JO. Yeah, to my awesome, awesome bullshit of a home.
(Panel fades.)
MICKEY. I like your house. It’s better than mine. At least

you have quiet here. At least you can be on your own
without a bazillion people yelling all the time.
JO. Yeah, it’s quiet. Sometimes too quiet. (Picks up the ball
and dribbles a bit.)
MICKEY. I don’t know what’s better, being lonely in a
crowded house or an empty one.
JO. Probably an empty one. Then at least the outside world
matches the inside, you know? Like what we were talking
about in English yesterday.
MICKEY. When Mick was in the bushes?
JO. Yeah, that part. It’s like she was finally happy.
MICKEY. Happy?
JO. Yeah, because her outside world was matching her in-
side one.
MICKEY. I don’t know if I’d call that happy.
JO. She got to spend all night in the bushes listening to mu-
sic.
MICKEY. Yeah, that happens to me all the time and I
wouldn’t say that I’m happy.
JO. You crawl into rich people’s bushes?
MICKEY. Shut up. No. I spend all night away from home.
JO. You do not.
MICKEY. And when I come back in the morning, nobody
notices.
JO. You’re such a liar. Your parents notice. If you didn’t
come home at night? Your parents would notice. Mine are
the ones that wouldn’t notice.
MICKEY. I’ve spent entire nights at IHOP. I sometimes
think if I just had one of my brothers dress in my clothes,
I wonder how long it would take them to figure out I was
gone. Couple weeks? A month?
(JO dribbles a bit. She doesn’t know what to say.)
MICKEY (cont’d). Same at school. I’ve checked in at hom-

eroom and then literally walked out of school. Taken the
train downtown and no one ever calls my house.
JO. Are you serious? You’ve done that?
MICKEY. Yeah. Where do you think I was last Thursday?
(JO shrugs.)
MICKEY (cont’d). I just had to get out of there. The Nean-

derthals in gym class and all that.
JO. Where do you go?
MICKEY. I just walk around mostly. There’s this falafel
place on Wabash I like. And some days the Art Institute is
free. So I just hang out there until it closes.
JO. You spend all day in the Art Institute?
MICKEY. Yeah. It’s huge. It’s my favorite place in the
whole city. I love the Chagall windows. Isn’t that the
most amazing blue you’ve ever seen.
JO. Nope.
MICKEY. Are you serious? That’s impossible.
JO. I’ve never been to the Art Institute.
MICKEY. WHAT?
JO. I’ve never been.
MICKEY. Like never-ever?
JO. Well, I’ve like been on the steps. Took a picture in front
of the lions. But never been inside. You know my parents
and that culture stuff.
MICKEY. Well, we need to change that.
JO. Just tell me next time you’re going.
MICKEY. Really? You’d ditch?
JO. Yeah.
MICKEY. You would not.
JO. Try me.
MICKEY. You’d miss AP English. (Holds up the sketch-
book.) Something tells me—no, you wouldn’t ditch.
JO. Shut up. (Hurls the ball at him.)
Scene: The Footnote
JO (talks to the audience). Footnote.

(Projection of an asterisk. Panel titled: The Uniform.)
JO (cont’d). OK. So some facts about Catholic schools. All

Catholic schools have a uniform. And at my school they
are strictly enforced. Solid white, blue or yellow shirts.
Pink is also an option for the girls. And guys have to wear
ties with solid khaki or blue pants. The girls have this dis-
gusting plaid skirt.
(Panel of JO in her uniform shirt and skirt.)
JO (cont’d). I hated my skirt. It’s like made of ninety-seven

percent plastic. Seriously. If you try to iron the pleats it
will literally melt. And smell like electrocuted cat.
(Panel of JO wearing a melting skirt.)
JO (cont’d). Usually by mid-January it would just be too

cold for the girls to wear their skirts. And we’d have these
announcements permitting ‘cold weather’ uniforms. But
that fall it got cold really early. Temperatures dropped to
twenty by mid-October. So I decided not to wait for the
announcement. OK, maybe I was slightly inspired by
Carson McCullers, who went around wearing men’s
clothing even back in the 1940s. And, of course what
happened as a result of all my pant wearing was:
(Panel of a shower of pink slips.)
JO (cont’d). Detention after detention. I complained to the

dean. I complained to the provost. I complained to the
president. But the detentions kept coming. Until it just be-
came ridiculous. And one day there was an announce-
ment. Girls could wear navy blue trousers regardless of

the weather.
(Panel of JO setting fire to her skirt—she is triumphant.)
JO (cont’d). That skirt was now dead to me. I felt amazing.

End of footnote.
Scene: A Bank of Lockers
(Chapter 5 then the harbinger

Panel of an empty high-school corridor. A series of
panels: A hooded figure approaches a bank of lockers.
Checks around, his face still unseen, and opens his
backpack to reveal a can of spray paint. Panel disap-
pears.
Sound of a locker—SLAM!
In bright DayGlo yellow the word “FAGGOT” is
sprayed across JO’s locker. EMMA walks up and stares
at the locker. She looks up and down the hall; she pulls
out her phone and texts.)
MICKEY. Holy Christ!

EMMA. I mean, what the hell?
MICKEY. This is insane.
EMMA. I know, why would anyone write that? It doesn’t
even make sense.
MICKEY. Are you being serious? (Immediately tries to dial
the locker combo. It’s going to take him a few tries to get
it open.)
EMMA. I mean, if you’re going to do something like that, I

mean, there are other things to write besides—
MICKEY. No, it’s exactly what they meant.
EMMA. But she’s a girl!
MICKEY. You think this is about gender accuracy? It’s in-
timidation. You know what happens to faggots in this
school? That’s the message being sent. Shit, what’s her
combo—
EMMA. I don’t know?!
MICKEY. Text her, ask her—
EMMA. I already texted her like twenty times—
MICKEY. I hope you didn’t mention this?
EMMA. Jesus, what are we going to do about it?
MICKEY (gets the locker open). Yes! OK, you are going to
stand here. Keep her locker open so no one sees this. I’ll
go talk to Leroy, see what he can do—
EMMA. Who’s Leroy?
MICKEY. Leroy is our custodial manager.
EMMA. Oh, you mean the janitor?
MICKEY. Exactly, the guy who picks up after your filthy
selves.
EMMA. What’s your damage? I was only asking a question.
MICKEY. My damage? We don’t have time for my damage
with you people.
EMMA. Stop saying that.
MICKEY. What?
EMMA. You people. Who’s you people? Us—them? What
is that, a gay thing?
MICKEY. Oh, so now I’m gay?
EMMA. Well aren’t you?
MICKEY. That’s not the point—the point is you act all su-
perior. When the ironic thing is that you’re the one who’s
tolerated. Jo just feels bad for you, and this is how you
repay her? Classy.
EMMA. Are you mental? You think I did this?
MICKEY. Oh, no, not you, I’m sure you had nothing to do
with this—
EMMA. Yeah, that’s pretty obvious.
MICKEY. But no need to feign horror, this is what you
people do.
EMMA. What’s that mean?
MICKEY. I mean, I don’t hang out with people who do this
sorta thing … like you do.
EMMA. Are you accusing someone? Because I don’t think
that’s fair. To go around assuming everyone’s homopho-
bic, just because they aren’t friends with you.
MICKEY. I don’t have to assume. They make it pretty ob-
vious.
EMMA. OK, but I … obviously have no idea who would do
this.
MICKEY. Really, not a clue?
EMMA. No! And I don’t mean to sound defensive, but I’m
like your best ally. And I’m not asking for you to be
thankful. But you’re just a moron to insult me. That’s like
self-sabotage. I don’t make the rules, but you got to have
better instincts about these things and not be coming after
people like me. People who are nice. OK? The nice ones.
MICKEY. You want to do something nice? Tell your
friends to stop tormenting Jo.
EMMA. They didn’t do this …
MICKEY. Wow, great. Can you just stand guard for three
minutes while I go find Leroy and then talk to Dean
Brown? If Jo shows up, pretend you don’t know what’s
going on, you’re really good at that. I want to be the one
to break it to her.
EMMA. You’re a total asswipe.
(MICKEY leaves. EMMA pulls out her phone. JO walks

up.)
JO. How’d you open my locker?

EMMA. That was your hermit crab.
(JO makes a move to close her locker. EMMA blocks

her.)
EMMA (cont’d). Just keep it open.

JO. Why?
(EMMA holds the door open. JO drops her bag, manages

to see the tag. JO kicks at the locker next to hers.)
JO. Goddamnit. Jesus Christ. That’s like—so majorly ma-

ture.
EMMA. Mickey said it was best just to keep your locker
open.
JO. I’m gonna kill someone.
EMMA (doesn’t know what to say). Has this happened before?
JO (incredulous). No. Why would you assume that?
EMMA. I don’t know. Maybe they thought it was Mickey’s
locker.
JO. I’ve had the same locker since freshman year. (Hands
EMMA a lab notebook.) Here. This is what you are hang-
ing around for right?
EMMA. No. I was waiting for you to get here. What do you
think you should do?
JO. I’m not going to make a big deal about this. I mean, that
just stirs things up, right? It’s not like I have any idea who
wrote it.
EMMA. Right. It could be anyone.
JO. Well, not anyone.
EMMA. But we don’t know. Mickey already talked to the
dean.
JO. Are you serious? That’s the last frickin’ thing I need.
That’s just going to bring more attention to it.
EMMA. Maybe you should talk to Ms. D.
JO. Ms. D? What’s she going to do?
EMMA. She can explain it to the dean. Like to keep things
from getting all blown out of proportion.
JO. Ms. D can’t do anything and I’ll just sound like a whiner.
EMMA. Well, I just don’t think you want a bunch of drama.
JO. Yes, I know. I’m trying not to make this into a bunch of
drama. So stop making up drama.
EMMA. I’m not making any drama.
JO. OK.
EMMA. Do you think I’m making drama? I can leave you
alone if that’s what you want.
JO. Fine.
(Beat.)
EMMA. We sound stupid. Like this isn’t even how people

talk to each other.
JO. People talk like this.
EMMA. Maybe some people. But this isn’t how I talk to my
friends. It’s not so … intense. So stop making it all intense.
JO. I just had faggot tagged on my locker. Sorry if I’m a
little intense for you.
EMMA. Shit! This is so not good.
JO. Yeah.
EMMA. Why do you think this happened?
JO. I don’t know? ’Cause we go to school with dicks.
EMMA. Like did someone say something to you? Or I don’t
know, misinterpret something?
JO. Like did I hit on a straight girl? Or piss off someone’s
boyfriend?
EMMA. That’s not what I mean.
JO. No, I don’t remember doing either of those things. Do
you, Emma?
EMMA. Well, do you think you could, I don’t know, sorta
turn it down a little. Like just when you’re in school?
JO. Turn what down?
EMMA. You know … like how you, your attitude.
JO. What?
EMMA. I know you don’t care what people think about you,
and that’s amazing. But maybe this is just like a warning.
JO. You want me to start acting like you?
EMMA. No.
JO. What, you want me to go back to wearing a skirt? Put
on some mascara—
EMMA. That’s not what I’m saying.
JO. You want me to go get a boyfriend?
EMMA. NO! Listen. Will you listen?
JO. Sure.
EMMA. But someone is obviously trying to intimidate you.
For something.
JO. Yeah. I got that. I figured that one out already. (Gathers
up her stuff; dumps some books out of her bag and into
her locker.)
EMMA. I’m sorry. I just want you to be careful. That’s all.
JO. I have been careful. I am careful. Every day. What do
you suggest I do to be more careful?
EMMA. I don’t know. Just blend in a little more.

JO. Jesus. You don’t get it.
EMMA. No, I do. I’m just trying to look out for you.
JO. You better go. Before any of your friends see us hang-
ing out.
EMMA. What are you talking about?
JO. C’mon, I know it’s embarrassing to you. And now eve-
rything’s so much worse. I mean, what were you thinking,
hanging out with the school dyke. You keep it up, your
locker’s gonna be next.
EMMA. You want me to give you some space?
JO. Yeah, that would be great.
(MICKEY walks up. JO takes her chem lab notebook

from EMMA.)
JO. Last night’s problem sets, why don’t you go copy them
out in the library.
MICKEY. I can take it from here.
EMMA (to JO). If that’s what you want. ’Cause I obviously
am just some straight girl who ‘doesn’t get it.’
(EMMA leaves. JO nearly crumbles.)
MICKEY. Listen, you don’t have to worry about anything.

JO. Yeah, I know. You’ve like broadcast it all over.
MICKEY. I have not. Leroy’s going to replace the door by
lunch, and Dean Brown is—
JO. Going to make a special announcement about ‘toler-
ance’ and then everyone in the whole frickin’ school’s go-
ing to know what happened.
MICKEY. What were you going to do? Stay quiet about it?
JO. That would have been a great idea.
MICKEY. I have an even better idea. We make a St. Mi-

chael stencil and like tag the entire boys’ locker room and
all over the school.
JO. Absolutely not.
MICKEY. No, it’s perfect. It like sends a message. “We
aren’t going to stand for this.”
JO. I have like a million eyes all watching me. Like every-
where I turn there’s going to be teachers, counselors.
You. Emma. I’m not going to go all vigilante.
MICKEY. This isn’t right. We can’t let them do shit like
this to us. This is a hate crime.
JO. It is not.
MICKEY. Vandalism is a crime. And you were vandalized
by hate. Making it a hate crime.
JO. Just shut up! OK?
MICKEY (totally taken aback). Sorry.
JO. This is mine. My locker. My deal.
MICKEY. OK.
JO. And if I wanted to stay quiet about it and take a Sharpie
and black out the entire locker, and get a detention for
vandalism—that’s my choice. Not yours.
MICKEY. Fine. I might have been a bit impulsive.
JO. I just want this all to go away! (Crouches down in front
of her locker.)
MICKEY (comforts her). St. Mike. Focus. OK. Close your
eyes.
(MICKEY puts his hands over her eyes. She squirms.)
JO. Cut it out. People are going to see us—

MICKEY. Close them.
(JO puts an arm over her eyes.)

MICKEY (cont’d). Now just put yourself somewhere else.

Far away. Paris. Santa Fe. The Duomo.
JO. Is that the one in Florence?
MICKEY. I was thinking of Milano, doesn’t matter, just be
anywhere but here. Got it?
JO. OK.
MICKEY. This is where you are going to spend your day.
None of this school exists. It’s all a façade. Get your soft
focus on, and tune it all out.
JO. All right.
MICKEY. And at the end of eighth, we’re going for ice-
cream. A huge sundae. Any kind. Anywhere.
JO. I got practice.
MICKEY. Screw practice. Today, you’re going to be late.
JO. I can’t miss practice.
MICKEY. Don’t let this get you down, St.Mike. You’ll get
through, we just have to get through.
Scene: Cave-Dwelling
(Chapter 6 then cave-dwelling

MS. DELANEY reads from The Heart Is a Lonely
Hunter. Recorded voices of EMMA and MICKEY repeat-
ing the following phrases multiple times before MS.
DELANEY begins to read.)
EMMA (V.O.). Just turn it down.

MICKEY (V.O.). Just get through
MS. DELANEY. “Mick was not in any hurry to get home.
She began talking … saying things to herself … ‘the
dreams I’ve been having lately, it’s like I’m swimming.
But instead of water I’m pushing out my arms and swim-
ming through great big crowds of people … And some-

times I’m yelling and swimming through people knocking
them all down wherever I go—and other times I’m on the
ground and people are trompling all over me and my in-
sides are oozing out on the sidewalk … Some things you
just naturally want to keep private. Not because they are
bad, but because you just want them secret.’”
(Panel of MS. DELANEY and ST. MICHAEL dancing.)
MS. DELANEY (cont’d). “She had always kept things to

herself. That was one sure truth … “
(Panel of JO taping down ST. MICHAEL’s wings.)
MS. DELANEY (cont’d). “ … She thought for a long time

and kept hitting her thighs with her fists.”
(Panel of JO handing ST. MICHAEL a uniform skirt.)
MS. DELANEY (cont’d). “Her face felt like it was scattered

in pieces and she could not keep it straight.”
(Panel of ST. MICHAEL shedding a feather or three.)
MS. DELANEY (cont’d). “The feeling was a whole lot

worse than being hungry for any dinner, yet it was like
that … I want-I want-I want -was all she could think
about –”
JO (steps on stage with her basketball). I want. I want. I
want …
Scene: After Practice

(Chapter 7 then the free-throw lesson
JO shoots hoops; she is in the school gym practicing
free-throws. She begins her elaborate free-throw routine:
three pounds, two spins, two squats, one more pound.
Shoot. MS. DELANEY catches the ball.)
MS. DELANEY. Aww. C’mon now. That’s just ugly.

JO. Ms. D? I mean, Ms. Delaney? What’re—you startled
me.
MS. DELANEY. Sorry. Don’t want to break your rhythm
there.
JO. Nah. It’s OK.
MS. DELANEY (snaps the ball back to JO). I thought prac-
tice was over at nine.
JO. Yeah. It is. It was.
MS. DELANEY. But you’re still—
JO. I missed a few shots during the scrimmage.
MS. DELANEY. How many do you need to hit?
JO. Ten. Actually twenty. Did you want to shoot?
(JO tosses MS. DELANEY the ball.)
MS. DELANEY. All right. (Steps up to the line. She starts

her free-throw routine: Spin. Bounce. Spin. Bounce. Spin.
Bounce. Squat. Shoot.)
(Miss? Swish? Doesn’t matter. JO retrieves the ball and

snaps it back to MS. DELANEY.)
MS. DELANEY (cont’d). I was actually looking for you.

JO. For me?

MS. DELANEY. Yeah. I wanted to ask you how things
were going.
JO. They’re fine. They’re totally fine.
MS. DELANEY. You’ve been a bit quiet in class lately.
JO. Oh, I’ve done all the homework.
MS. DELANEY. I know, I know. You just seem a little
withdrawn is all. (JO shrugs this off.) And I just found out
today about what happened to your locker—
JO. Oh, that. Yeah, it was nothing.
MS. DELANEY. It didn’t sound like it was nothing.
JO. Just some people joking around.
MS. DELANEY. That’s really offensive.
JO. No, I know, I talked to Dean Brown about it. I know it’s
serious. But I’m fine.
MS. DELANEY. Have your parents been supportive?
JO. Yeah, totally. They are great. They’re very engaged and
all that.
MS. DELANEY. OK, well, if anything like that happens
again. And I mean anything. You can absolutely come to
me. Or Dean Brown. Or both of us.
JO. I know. I know. Thanks.
MS. DELANEY. It’s what I’m here for. Good luck with the
free-throws. (Turns to leave.)
JO. Oh, Ms. D. One more thing.
MS. DELANEY. Yeah?
JO. I, uh, just wanted you to know, I’m so glad you
switched the reading. I love that book. It’s the first book
to—I don’t know. I know it’s old and everything. But it’s
… I just love it. Like it sticks with you. The characters.
And the way they think. And how much they don’t say. I
like that a lot. I don’t know if that makes any sense.
MS. DELANEY. Perfect sense.
JO. Can I ask you something?

MS. DELANEY. Sure.
JO. What do you think about the end?
MS. DELANEY. Which part?
JO. When Singer kills himself?
MS. DELANEY. I think it’s devastating.
JO. But, there’s no explanation.
MS. DELANEY. He lost someone he really loved.
JO. But he would have gotten over it? Right? Don’t you
think?
MS. DELANEY. I don’t know if losing someone you love is
ever something you get over. I mean, it may get easier.
Lessen. A little. But that kind of loneliness. . . that’s very
deep.
JO. I just don’t know why he had to die. I mean have you
ever felt like that?
MS. DELANEY. Well …
JO. Oh—you don’t have to answer that.
MS. DELANEY. Yes.
JO. I know that’s personal. I didn’t mean to—I shouldn’t
have—fuck! Oh, my god, I’m sorry.
MS. DELANEY. No. It’s just. Yes. Yes. I lost someone.
JO. Were you close?
MS. DELANEY. Very. Yes. Very much.
JO. Oh. I’m sorry.
MS. DELANEY. Yep.
JO. I didn’t mean to—I’m so sorry.
MS. DELANEY. Jo. It’s OK. I wouldn’t have answered if it
wasn’t OK.
JO. That person was probably really wonderful if you loved
them—
MS. DELANEY. She was.
JO. Oh. Right. So do you worry you’ll go to hell for feeling

that way?
MS. DELANEY. It’s questions like that that make me glad I
teach English.
JO. I shouldn’t have said—
MS. DELANEY. Don’t apologize. I like talking about
books. It’s my favorite thing to do.
JO. I know what you mean about that feeling, that like total
despairing feeling. But I just wish he could have held on,
you know? ’Cause it gets better. Right?
MS. DELANEY. Sometimes people don’t see it that way.
JO. I mean, that’s true, right? “It gets better.” You think
that’s true? That’s what we’re told.
MS. DELANEY. I think it’s absolutely true.
JO. You do?
MS. DELANEY. Yeah. I think it gets much better. But
sometimes it gets really, really hard before things turn
around. And Singer just couldn’t—he didn’t have faith in
that.
JO. This book. It’s just—it’s not, I don’t know, it’s not very
comforting. And I know that’s ridiculous. And that
doesn’t mean I’m not glad I read it. I just—it’s just super
depressing.
MS. DELANEY. It helps me to think about what this book
did for Carson McCullers. She was—well she knew some
tremendous loneliness herself. Which is how she was able
to write about it. Writing this book helped her keep going.
I know she thought of herself as an outsider. A freak. And
lonely. Deeply lonely.
JO. Yeah. Maybe.
MS. DELANEY. So instead of the bullet in the chest, she
writes this.
(JO smiles. MS. DELANEY shrugs.)
MS. DELANEY (cont’d). Makes me feel a little better.

JO. You think she felt the way her characters felt.
MS. DELANEY. I think all writers do. To a certain extent.
Don’t you?
JO. Yeah, I don’t know.
MS. DELANEY. Sure you do. You’re a writer.
JO. I’m not.
MS. DELANEY. Well you write.
JO. Yeah, but it’s graphic novel stuff. That doesn’t make me
a writer.
MS. DELANEY. I think it does.
JO. Yeah, but Carson McCullers—that’s a writer, I’m—I’m
never going to write a novel before I’m twenty-three.
MS. DELANEY. Do you want to?
JO. OK, just because I want to—I might want to play for the
Bulls. I mean, that’s not going to happen.
MS. DELANEY. But you’d rather be a writer than be a
point guard.
JO. Shooting guard.
MS. DELANEY. OK. Shooting guard.
JO. Maybe.
MS. DELANEY. Maybe.
JO. Yes. Yes. How’d you know?
MS. DELANEY. I read what you write, Jo. It’s obvious.
Let’s keep talking. OK?
JO (this sinks in for a minute). Yeah. OK.
MS. DELANEY. G’night, Jo.
JO. G’night, Ms. D.
(MS. DELANEY exits. JO spins the ball in her hands. She

starts to resume her free-throw routine. Stops and mim-
ics Ms. Delaney’s set-up: Spin. Bounce. Spin. Bounce.

Spin. Bounce. Squat. Shoot.)
(Chapter 8 then the rooster crows

REED sits on JO’s bed. EMMA swirls around in her desk
chair; she is listening to REED’s headphones. REED
watches her. She winces, sees he is watching, smiles and
puts on a serious listening face. Finally, she removes
headphones.)
EMMA. It sounds good.

REED. Good?
EMMA. Yeah. It’s interesting. Very indie.
REED. Who do you think it sounds like?
EMMA. I don’t know a lot of bands. Sorta like Vampire
Weekend?
REED. Oh, c’mon.
(PING.
TYLER: Where r u?)
EMMA. I told you I don’t know that many bands.

REED. How do you live? Do you let Starbucks define your
musical taste?
(EMMA: Studying for chem)
EMMA. No, I’m just not into music like you are.
REED. See, the thing is you don’t have a context for this
music, which is fine, but that’s why it sounds like crap.
EMMA. Isn’t your sister supposed to be home from practice

by now?
REED. I don’t know. Maybe it ran late.
EMMA. We’ve got this massive midterm tomorrow.
REED. Oh, so that’s what’s brought you out of hiding.
EMMA. I haven’t been hiding.
REED. Haven’t seen you in weeks. What was your fight
about?
EMMA. We didn’t have a fight. We’ve just been busy. But I
brought her some Mountain Dew. Her favorite study jolt.
REED. Someone told me there was high fructose corn syrup
in that stuff.
EMMA. Shut up. (Consults chemistry book.)
REED. What’s the test on?
EMMA. Chapter five through ten. Electronegativity and
Ionic Bonding.
REED. Oh, I remember that stuff. That bonding.
EMMA. I have no business being in AP Chem.
REED. Yeah, but then you get to say you know about Elec-
tronegativity. And that’s mega-impressive. Gimme the
book.
EMMA. I’ll just wait for Jo. She’s really good at explaining
things so they become like crystal clear.
REED. Gimme. I think I’ve helped her out before with
homework.
(EMMA hands REED the book. PING.

TYLER: snickers or oreo blizzard?)
EMMA. Oh, give me a break.

REED. What up?
EMMA. He always does this. He’s always just dropping by.

It’s so—urgh.
REED. Ah, stalker boyfriend troubles.
(PING.
TYLER: im gonna surprise u. study break)
EMMA. He’s not a stalker. He’s just always wanting to

know where I am. Like checking up on me.
REED. Tell him you need to study. (On textbook.) This shit
is hard. Tell him to come over, I’ll talk to him.
EMMA. Hell no. He and Jo don’t …
(PING.
TYLER: got you an oreo blizzard
EMMA puts her phone down. PING. PING. PING.)
REED. Wow, that doesn’t sound stalker-ish at all.

EMMA. Just ignore it.
(EMMA’s cell rings; she answers it.)
EMMA (cont’d, on phone). Hey … yeah I got ’em. What?

No. I can’t, seriously. Tyler, I can’t … No. ’Cause I’m
not home … I’m at Bri’s. (Looks to REED who is quite
obviously listening in.) No, you can’t stop by. It’s a study
group. Who? Tyler, stop it, a group from class … No,
Lamar’s not here. She’s not here either. I gotta go. I’ll call
you later. (Hangs up.)
REED. What a charmer.
EMMA. He’s a good guy. Just gets a little needy sometimes.
REED. Needy or obsessively jealous. One or the other. So

you’re at Bri’s, huh?
EMMA. It’s just easier, I didn’t want to get into a huge ex-
planation.
REED. You mean like, ‘I’m at Jo’s leave me the fuck alone?’
EMMA. It’s a little more complicated than that. I don’t want
to get into it.
REED. So why can’t you be hanging out with Jo?
EMMA. Reed? Drop it.
REED. I’m starting to feel sorry for stalker-boy. Poor guy
wanted to do something all romantic and thoughtful and
you’re like killing it.
EMMA. I’m so not. You’re a guy. You don’t get it.
REED. Right. Does your boyfriend know Jo’s got an older
brother? Is that his damage?
EMMA. No, I didn’t tell him about you.
REED. Well, I think it’s pretty shitty you have to lie about
who you’re with. Like are you ashamed or something?
EMMA. No! God no.
REED. Yeah, you shouldn’t be ashamed. My sister is the
coolest person. Her only drawback is her obsession with
Maroon 5.
EMMA. It’s not anything against Jo. It’s like I have to keep
the two sides apart. Jo hates Tyler. But he’s my boyfriend.
And Tyler thinks it’s weird I’m friends with a—never
mind.
REED. A what?
EMMA (considers for a second). Didn’t you think it was
weird when I was hanging out with your sister all the
time?
REED. I think you both are freaks so it makes perfect sense.
EMMA. I’m not a freak. Hermit Crab’s a freak. I’m not a
freak.
REED. Whatever you say.

EMMA. So you’re telling me you would be friends with a
gay guy?
REED. Of course.
EMMA. How about best friends? Like call each other every
day—best friends.
REED. Yeah. Why not? I would have a gay best friend.
EMMA. Right.
REED. I WOULD. What?
EMMA. And what if people started thinking you were gay
because of it?
REED. Well I wouldn’t be, so no big deal.
EMMA. No big deal that people think you’re gay?
REED. Maybe people would think my imaginary gay
friends were straight for hanging out with me? Ever think
of that?
EMMA. Yeah, that’s not how it works.
REED. People might think Jo’s straight when she hangs out
with you.
EMMA. They don’t think that. People think she’s my girl-
friend. Like girlfriend-girlfriend.
REED. No they don’t.
EMMA. They do. Why do you think Tyler acts all crazy?
REED. You guys are so not like that. You fight all the time.
EMMA. I know.
REED. And I don’t know what Jo’s type is … but I don’t
think it’s you.
EMMA. What, are calling me a dog or something?
REED. No. You’re just all—I’m not getting into it.
EMMA. I’m all what? Too fussy? Too girlie?
REED. I thought you didn’t want to be her type?
EMMA. I don’t. I’m just, like, curious.
(PING. EMMA checks her phone.

JO: hey, u called? what up?)
EMMA (cont’d). It’s your sister. Finally.
(EMMA texts JO back.

EMMA: @ ur house. chem prep?
PING.)
REED. Tell her I was worried about her.

EMMA. You were not.
(EMMA reads text.

JO: sure. home in 5.)
REED. Of course I was worried, she has my car.
(PING.
JO: @ dq. want a pb blizzard?)
EMMA. See? She remembers that peanut butter Blizzard’s

are my favorite. My frickin’ boyfriend doesn’t remember
that. Do you think that’s a problem?
REED. Your boyfriend sounds like a tool.
Scene: The Locker Room

(Chapter 9 then losing in overtime
A locker-room bench. JO is still suited up, bangs a bas-
ketball hard on the ground. EMMA enters wearing street
clothes.)
EMMA. Hey. The team’s going out. You coming?

JO. You’re going to go?
EMMA. Yeah. Do you mind?
JO. Uh, no. No, but, Mickey has a David Lynch marathon
planned.
EMMA. Then you should definitely come out with us.
JO. What about Tyler?
EMMA. They are just going to play poker and Xbox. It’s
boring.
JO. I’ll catch up with you.
EMMA. Just hurry up. We’ll be out in the parking lot.
JO. Seriously, go ahead. I have my dad’s car.
EMMA. Are you bummed? C’mon, don’t be bummed. You
played great.
JO. I choked.
EMMA. You had like fifteen points.
JO. Yeah, but when it counted I choked.
EMMA. You didn’t choke. You missed a free-throw. Eve-
ryone misses a free-throw.
JO. I should have made it.
EMMA. You made the first one.
JO. There’s no excuse.
EMMA. C’mon. Don’t sulk. It’s a freakin’ basketball game.
There are tacos in our future. Let’s move.
JO. Yeah.
EMMA. Besides you really did a job on that forward. What
was she? Number 6?
JO. LeBron wannabe.
EMMA. What?
JO. LeBron? (Grinning.) Never mind.
EMMA. Well, she was having a total fit on the bench. They
were debating whether or not to call an ambulance for her.
JO. Please. If it hurts that much it’s sprained. What a whiner.
EMMA. Says the bad ass.
(JO shrugs this off.)
EMMA (cont’d). I mean it. You were. (Gives JO a shove.)

Now don’t be such a girl. Hurry up.
JO. I will.
EMMA. Promise? Don’t get all maudlin.
JO. Maudlin. Wow.
EMMA. Shut up. (Gives JO another shove.) Please don’t be
upset. Let’s go have fun. OK?
(EMMA grabs JO, sorta playful, sorta not. Awkward

move away.)
JO. All right.

EMMA. You want me to wait for you?
JO. No, I’ll be right out.
EMMA. OK, I’ll be in the parking lot.
(EMMA starts to leave. JO grabs her arm. EMMA has

been waiting for this.)
JO. Hey—
EMMA. Yeah?
(JO lets go of EMMA’s hand.)
JO. Glad I didn’t suck too bad out there.
(EMMA starts to go but doubles back and awkwardly

kisses JO on the cheek.)
EMMA. You’re always awesome. You know that.

(EMMA scampers out. JO sits with the kiss, then throws

on a track jacket. She messes her hair—nothing works—
and decides to throw on a baseball cap. She gathers up
her stuff and heads out the door.)
V.O. Get back in there you fucking faggot.
(A second later she is thrown back into the locker room.

She catches her head on the locker-room bench.)
JO. Guys. Stop. Please-please-please don’t.

V.O. Who’s a fucking whining ass now? You fucking freak.
Fucking faggot dyke.
(JO covers her face. Blackout on stage. Pounding music.

Rapid sequence of graphic novel images:
Panel: ST. MICHAEL with wings poking out of her
street clothes is thrown onto the locker-room floor.
Panel: ST. MICHAEL hits her head on the locker-
room bench.
Panel: ST. MICHAEL cradles her head a gang of
hooded guys surround her.)
JO (V.O.). The thing I feared would happen had come. Right

this very second. It was almost a relief. Until I tried to
breathe.
(Panel: They kick her as she is down.

Sound of ribs cracking.
Panel: Close-up of a fist pummeling ST. MICHAEL’s
stomach, then face in slow motion.)
JO (V.O.). There was one piercing pain. Too big to feel. To

locate. I couldn’t feel my body. I saw blood everywhere.
And standing over me was just a blurry dark shadow. I
couldn’t make out voices. I couldn’t understand words.
(Panel: A gang of hoodies kicking ST. MICHAEL in

the shins. Then groin. Then guts.
Panel: ST. MICHAEL splutters. Coughs up blood.
Panel: The gang recedes.
Panel: One lingers. He rips off one of ST. MICHAEL’s
wings, like snapping a wishbone.)
JO (V.O.). Then suddenly it was finished. And the shadows

receded. And I couldn’t hear the vibration of voices.
There was an eerie quiet. Except for this rattling sound in
my head every time I tried to take a breath.
(Panel: ST. MICHAEL stumbles to her knees. She at-

tempts to fly. She is sent reeling to the ground. A shak-
ing sobbing mess.)
Scene: A Hospital Room
(Chapter 10 then the visitation

JO, MICKEY and REED are assembled. JO has a band-
age around her ribs, a bruised face and one eye almost
swollen shut. She sits up in bed wearing an over-sized T-
shirt and pajama pants. By her bed is a stuffed animal
clutching a bunch of balloons.)
MICKEY. OK, I’ve talked to all the nurses on the floor.

Even the frightening one with the SpongeBob scrubs. Ap-
parently they think two bars equals serviceable Wi-Fi. But
when you stand by the elevators, you get a better signal.
REED. She doesn’t need Wi-Fi.
MICKEY. I know the last time you were in high school you
guys did your assignments in longhand, but times have
changed—she’s going to need Wi-Fi.
JO. Did you get my stuff from school? (Tries to get to her
feet, grimacing.)
REED. Jo. Sit. You don’t have to move. That’s what we’re
here for. You need more ice?
MICKEY (fetches some books from his bag). Spanish,
chem, American history—also I recorded English class.
You can thank me later.
REED. Do you need more ice? Mom says you need to eat
something before the next Vicodin. Otherwise you’re go-
ing to start puking again.
JO. It hurts to eat.
REED. How ‘bout some Jello? Jello’s easy. I invented a
new flavor. Watermelon/lime/chocolate. They have all
three flavors in the caf. And when you take a bite of each,
it tastes sensational.
JO. No Jello.
MICKEY. So what do you want to start with?
REED. Listen pal, let’s chill out with the studying.
MICKEY. She’s not going to let this hold her back from
graduating.
REED. Don’t be a freak show. She’s going to graduate.
JO. I don’t give a shit about school right now.
REED. See?
MICKEY. You have enough credits already to graduate ear-
ly, if you take three summer-school classes. And that,
plus your AP credits, that’s like an entire college semes-

ter. By next January you’ll be out of here.
REED. Why are we talking about summer school? She’s
missed four days of school. Big deal?
MICKEY. I’m making a plan. I’m helping Jo get the hell
out of this school early.
REED. Maybe she doesn’t want to graduate early.
JO (groggy). I don’t want to miss next season.
REED. She doesn’t want to miss next season. Now put the
books away. No mentation.
MICKEY. Just because Jo didn’t see the potential—
REED. That’s it, pal!
JO. Guys.
MICKEY. I’m just trying to formulate an exit—
REED. You’re stressing her out.
JO. Guys.
MICKEY. I’m protecting her!
REED. By acting like a hysterical girl!
JO. GUYS SHUT UP!
(JO lets out a whimper and holds her head. REED and
MICKEY remember JO is sitting right there. They are si-
lenced. JO grimaces.)
JO (cont’d). Can you get me some more ice?

MICKEY. I’ll go. (Starts out the door.)
REED. Be sure to crush it with your shoe or something.
Otherwise it’s too sharp. Take the compress, moron.
(REED picks up a compress and hurls it at MICKEY.

MICKEY leaves.)
REED. I’m going to send him home.

JO. No. He means well.

REED. Yeah, well, we don’t need his freakin’ stress.
JO. He’s trying to be helpful.
REED. Well visiting hours are almost over. You need to
rest.
JO. OK.
REED (picks up the stuffed animal and reads attached
card). When did Em come by?
JO. She didn’t come in, just dropped these off downstairs.
REED. She didn’t come up?
JO. I got a text from her.
REED. So she’s staying away.
JO. No, she just doesn’t do the hospital scene. Creeps her
out.
REED. Yeah, well, I think she should lie low for a while.
Keep her distance.
JO. Em had nothing to do with this.
REED. Oh, really? She leaves you in the locker room alone
and what’s the next thing that happens?
JO. Em didn’t see the guys.
REED. Jo, I know she’s your friend and all, but you don’t
need to protect her. She doesn’t stand up for you.
JO. Trust me, if Emma had been there, she would have
ripped their balls off.
REED. You really didn’t see any of those guys?
JO. No. I’m telling you. I didn’t even register what was
happening. After that first punch. Everything was blurry.
REED. Didn’t recognize any of the voices?
JO. No.
REED. You sure? Didn’t sound like, say, Tyler, for example?
JO. Tyler? Tyler did not do this.
REED. Maybe he didn’t throw the punches but he was be-
hind it.
JO. I’m pretty sure Tyler was pounding 40s in a basement

with his football buddies.
REED. That’s his story. But he’s the only person who has it
out for you.
JO. I’ve never done anything to him.
REED. C’mon, Jo.
JO. What?
REED. Emma?
JO. What about her?
REED. He’s totally jealous. I’m not going to sit by and let
him get away with this. I’m going to give him and his little
posse a shakedown.
JO. You’re not going to touch Tyler. Besides, he’s like 6
feet 170. He’ll kill you.
REED. Don’t think I won’t get help.
JO. What? You’re going to recruit Mickey?
REED. Dad for starters.
JO. Do not tell that shit to Dad! Have you said anything to
Dad?
REED. Not yet. But I told him I’d let him know when I was
sure who it was.
JO. I’m not going to let you guys get all retaliatory and shit.
This was going to happen Tyler or no Tyler.
REED. What?!
JO. I make people angry. Just by looking like this, being this
way. It pisses them off.
REED. That’s not true.
JO. Reed. You don’t know. You can’t see it. ’Cause you’re
my brother. And I love you for it. But you’re the excep-
tion. I disgust people. I repel them.
REED. That’s not true. I know that’s not true.
JO. OK.
REED. Is it true?
JO. Lotsa people. And especially the guys in school.

REED. Jesus.
JO. It’s OK.
REED. It’s not OK. You’re like the nicest person I’ve ever
met.
(JO shrugs)
REED (cont’d). I mean it. And I’m not saying that because
you’re my sister. You’re the best. You’re kind to everyone.
You’re smart. You’ve got wicked ball skills. Ten times bet-
ter than me. And you never judge people. You’ve never
been embarrassed that I was your loser older brother who
couldn’t finish college or get a job. And I’ve been a real
shit. I’ve totally ignored … like who you are. What you’re
going through.
JO. You let me use your car all the time.
REED. Big deal. I haven’t been to one of your games.
JO. It’s not a big deal.
REED. And when we order in and I know you’re going to
be home late. Do I save you some pizza? No. I’m a total
pig. Never leave you a thing. Who does that? I’m telling
you I’ve been an asswipe of an older brother. A total
waste-oid.
JO. You haven’t.
REED. And I’m sorry. I’m sorry you got a shit hand in the
sib department.
JO. Apology accepted. Even though I don’t agree with you.
(They sit awkwardly with this.)

JO (cont’d). Going after Tyler will only make it worse for

me. That’s just asking for this to happen again. And I
can’t have this happen again.
REED. It won’t, I swear. No one’s going to touch you.
JO. Mickey’s right. I need to just get the hell out of there.
REED. I don’t care what it takes. I’ll pick you up from
school every day.
JO. Just promise me you won’t do anything.
REED. Let’s talk about this later. You’re on mega heavy
drugs.
JO. Promise me.
(MICKEY comes back with the compress and Jello.)
MICKEY. This Jello’s actually pretty good.

REED. For today. Just for today. But we’re going to revisit
this.
MICKEY. They only had triple berry and tapioca. So I
brought you both.
REED. Just try two bites.
(JO tries to eat the Jello and gives up.)
MICKEY (ignoring REED). OK, so I have a couple of titles

for your history paper, “Bay of Pigs: Bringing Home the
Commie Bacon.”
JO (groans). That’s brutal.
MICKEY. Not feeling it? OK, I got some others.
REED. Dude. Visiting hours are over.
MICKEY. What?
REED. Six o’clock. Gotta go.
MICKEY. I thought it was seven.
REED. Special doctor’s orders.
MICKEY. Fine, I’ll be back tomorrow, but Jo, lay off the
Vicodin if you can. We need you clearheaded.
REED. Dude, out. I’m going to call the SpongeBob nurse if
you don’t hit it.
(MS. DELANEY appears.)
MS. DELANEY. Knock. Knock.
(JO sees MS. DELANEY and is shocked.)
MICKEY. Hey, Ms. Delaney.

JO. Ms. D?
MS. DELANEY. Just thought I’d see how you were pro-
gressing. Glad to see you have all these extra hands
around.
MICKEY. We were just going over some homework as-
signments.
MS. DELANEY. Well, you don’t have to stress about
homework.
REED. What’d I tell you.
MICKEY. No one’s stressing.
REED. I’m Reed. The brother.
MS. DELANEY. I’m Ms. Delaney. The teacher.
(MS. DELANEY shakes REED’s hand.)
JO. Reed, get a chair.
(REED offers up his.)
MS. DELANEY. I don’t know if this is a good time—

JO. No, it’s OK.
MICKEY. It’s a great time. We love to entertain at all hours.
MS. DELANEY. I wanted to stop by for a minute. See how

you’re doing.
REED. I’m trying to get her to eat something before the next
dose of painkillers.
MS. DELANEY. Jello’s not that exciting.
REED. It’s actually not half bad when you take a bite.
JO. Reed—
REED. Right. Right.
(Awkward beat.)
MICKEY. Well, I for one am going to grab that unclaimed

cookie bouquet before Sponge Bob gets her mitts on it.
Come help, Reed.
(REED ignores him. MICKEY leaves.)
MS. DELANEY. I heard there’s a couple of cracked ribs.

REED. Three.
MS. DELANEY. I’ve cracked one—a floating rib. It was
excruciating.
REED. But you healed up pretty quickly, right?
MS. DELANEY. Oh, yeah. The first week was the worst.
JO. The drugs are good.
REED. But she’s not going to get used to them or anything.
MS. DELANEY (laughs). I just dropped by to say hello. I
don’t want to interrupt your rest.
REED. Yeah, she needs to get some sleep.
JO. I’ve been sleeping all day. It’s fine.
REED. No, you haven’t—
JO. Reed?!
REED. What?
JO. Can you go get me a ginger ale?
REED (taking the hint). Sure. I’ll be right back. (Leaves.)
(Beat.)
JO. That’s my brother.

MS. DELANEY. He seems worried about you. (Remember-
ing something.) Oh, I brought you something. Just a little
thing. (Hands JO a box, wrapped in paper.)
JO. Really? You didn’t have to—
MS. DELANEY. Open it. I don’t know if it’s the kind you
like—
(JO rips open the paper. It’s a box of sketching

pens/pencils.)
JO. These are awesome. I love this brand—

MS. DELANEY. I thought they looked like the pencils you
used in class.
JO. I’m going to use them right away. I had to wait a couple
of days before the nurses would let me have my sketch-
book back. But, do you want to see?
MS. DELANEY. Absolutely. (Finds the sketchbook.) This
the one?
(MS. DELANEY hands it to JO who flips through it look-

ing for the right page.)
JO. Some of it’s kinda wacked, don’t know if it’s the pain-
killers. But I’m working on the text in the back. Like
some interludes. Like in Watchmen.
(JO finds the page and hands it to MS. DELANEY.

Panel of ST. MICHAEL tearing apart a locker with

‘FAGGOT’ scrawled on it.)
MS. DELANEY. These are fantastic.

JO. I’m drawing it out of order.
(MS. DELANEY flips some pages.)
JO (cont’d). Still, working on it.
(MS. DELANEY. flips some pages.)
MS. DELANEY. I’d love to read it all when you are

through.
(MS. DELANEY stops on the Panel of the locker room

attack.)
MS. DELANEY (cont’d). Oh God.
(The panel is projected.)
JO. Yeah, that one. It just keeps coming back.

MS. DELANEY. It’s good to talk about it. (Takes JO’s
hand.)
JO. I thought something could happen to me. Like I had
been tempting fate or whatever and then it did. And now I
just feel so stupid.
MS. DELANEY. Oh, God, Jo, please. You’re not stupid.
JO. Like what was I thinking? It’s so obvious. People like
me …
MS. DELANEY. What?
JO. I don’t know, would it be so hard to just … blend in a

little better? Like if I had just tried harder. I could have
done it. Well, mostly.
MS. DELANEY. No. You couldn’t. Listen to me.
(JO looks away.)
MS. DELANEY (cont’d). Really, I mean it. (Takes both of

JO’s hands.) You did not do this to yourself. A bunch of
scared, frightened, threatened guys did this to you. Be-
cause you are a strong and powerful, smart and gifted
young woman. Who is not afraid to embrace every part of
who she is. You have something they don’t. You have
your self-respect. And your love of this huge world.
Please don’t hide that away by trying to be something you
are not.
JO. OK.
MS. DELANEY. Please.
JO. OK.
MS. DELANEY. We failed you, Jo. Your friends. Your
family. Your teachers. Your world. We failed you. That’s
the only reason this happened. And I am so, so sorry.
JO. It’s OK.
(MS. DELANEY is overcome with sadness.)
JO. There’s some tissues over—
(JO motions to the nightstand near her bed. MS.

DELANEY retrieves some.)
MS. DELANEY. But I want you to know, there are people

fighting for you. Adults that want to make sure this
doesn’t happen to another marvelous young woman like

yourself. But sometimes, sometimes people don’t like to
be told they aren’t trying hard enough. That what they
think is good enough, just doesn’t cut it.
JO. OK?
MS. DELANEY. That’s hard for people to hear. That’s a
hard thing for adults and parents to admit.
JO. Yeah, I get it.
(REED comes back with the soda.)
REED. One ginger ale. Cup ’o ice. At your service.

MS. DELANEY (stands up). You need to get some rest.
(Squeezes JO’s hand as a parting.)
REED. I keep trying to get her to—
MS. DELANEY. You got a lot of work ahead of you.
JO. Bye, Ms. D.
MS. DELANEY. Try and get some sleep.
REED. Oh, don’t worry, I’ll see to it.
(MS. DELANEY leaves.)
REED (cont’d). So that’s Ms. D, huh?

JO. Don’t start.
REED. What? She say anything about me?
(JO covers her face with her sketchbook.)

(Chapter 11 then the absolution
JO sits on her bed. MICKEY pours over a sketchbook.)

MICKEY. I didn’t want to bring this up before, while you

were in the hospital and all that … but the issue of my
hair …
JO. I like it. It’s like it has an emotional expressiveness.
MICKEY. You can’t show this to anyone. It’s like Justin
Bieber got electrocuted.
JO. Too late. Ms. D gets to see it tomorrow.
MICKEY. That’s not going to happen. I’m confiscating this.
(Puts the sketchbook in his bag.)
JO. Do not make me call Reed. He’s on the couch with a
baseball bat. And he will use it on you.
MICKEY. Why is he sleeping out there?
JO. He’s guarding the house.
MICKEY. Against what?
JO. Just let him feel macho for once.
MICKEY. I don’t care if you cut me out of the book entire-
ly. I will not be misrepresented like this, St. Mike.
(EMMA stands in the doorway.)
EMMA. Hey, guys.

MICKEY. Well who do we have here?
JO. Hey, Em.
MICKEY. And to what do we owe this visitation?
EMMA. I brought you a blizzard. (Hands JO a Blizzard.)
It’s Oreo.
MICKEY. Yeah, well, I can take that. She’s not supposed to
have dairy. She’s trying to reduce the mucus in her lungs.
Jo. No, I can have it.
MICKEY. The doctors said—
JO. One won’t kill me.
EMMA. I didn’t know you were here, Mickey, otherwise I
would have brought you one too.
MICKEY. Yeah, well, I basically live here now. Jo needs

round-the-clock supervision.
JO. Not round-the-clock—
EMMA. I thought you were coming back to school tomorrow?
JO. I am.
MICKEY. She is.
EMMA. Oh.
MICKEY. She’s still in pain.
JO. Mickey, I’m fine.
MICKEY. Well, not fine, exactly—
JO. I’m doing a lot better. (To EMMA.) Do you want to
hang out for a bit?
EMMA (wary). Sure.
MICKEY. I was just going to do some laundry and re-
organize that nightmare of a linen closet. Call me if you
need me. (Leaves.)
JO. Sorry about him.
EMMA. No problem.
JO. He just gets a little territorial.
EMMA. Yeah.
JO. He was practically living at the hospital.
EMMA. No, I get it. He’s pretty intense. At school he’s
been trying to get a Gay Straight Alliance started. Ms. D’s
totally onboard. And I said something about it being a
Catholic school, like how’s that going to work, and he
told me I was weak-willed.
JO. Weak-willed?
EMMA. Yeah, or something like that. Something totally
crazy sounding.
(JO sips at the Blizzard.)

EMMA (cont’d). You look … good. Like healthy. Like your

normal self.
JO. Thanks.
EMMA. You glad to be coming back?
JO. I wouldn’t say glad. More like dreading every second.
EMMA. Just so you know, people are really happy you are
coming back. Like everyone is praying for you. Every day
over the announcements. And at all the masses. And
someone passed out these red pins the other day. Like
show support for Jo.
JO. That was Leslie.
EMMA. Yeah, the whole team is wearing them.
JO. I saw that when they came to the hospital.
EMMA. Yeah … Jo, listen, about that … I’m sorry I didn’t
come by earlier.
JO. You said you didn’t do hospitals.
EMMA. Yeah, but that’s not really a reason not to go.
JO. No, I get it. They freak you out.
EMMA. Sure, that’s all true, my dad and stuff. But that’s
not it. (Doesn’t know how to say it … )
JO. OK.
EMMA. I didn’t want to see you. ’Cause I just felt so bad.
JO. Bad about what?
EMMA. Leaving you. In the locker room. Like I just wasn’t
thinking straight. At the moment, you know? But if I had
been. I would have stayed. Like waited there for you. And
then none of this would have ever happened. I don’t know
why I didn’t just wait there. I mean, I know why, but …
shit this isn’t making any sense.
JO. It’s not your fault—
EMMA. And now I feel like a really really bad person, for
not sucking it up and just coming to visit you sooner.
JO. You sent me a stuffed animal.
EMMA. I know, so dorky—

JO. Bad people don’t do things like that. Send stuffed ani-
mals.
(EMMA is on the verge of tears.)
JO (cont’d). Especially very cute ones. Like this with choco-

lates taped to their butt. (Finds the stuffed animal.)
EMMA. I didn’t know if you even liked stuffed animals.
JO. Oh, yeah, I used to have a huge stuffed-animal collec-
tion like until I was twelve.
EMMA. Then you outgrew them?
JO. No, we got bedbugs and my dad burned them all. It
reeked.
EMMA. Whoa! Did you like, watch them melt?
JO (finding this funny). Yeah.
EMMA. Jesus. That’s horrible.
JO. I know, talk about emotionally scarring.
EMMA. So here you go, restarting the collection.
JO. Exactly.
(Neither knows what to say.)
EMMA. I don’t know if you want to maybe go off campus

for lunch tomorrow. You know like break up the day?
JO. I’m not sure how long I’ll stay tomorrow.
EMMA. Yeah, sure, if you don’t feel good—
JO. I’m going to try, because I won’t be able to play unless I
go to all my classes, but—
EMMA. Then you should absolutely go to class.
JO. Yeah. I know. That’s the goal. I’m just not sure if I can
take it. Being back.
EMMA. Mickey and I won’t leave your side. We’ll walk

you to all your classes, no one will dare do anything. Or
say anything.
JO. Yeah, you sound like Reed.
EMMA. I’m serious, I may look sweet, but I can cut.
JO. OK.
EMMA. Just try me. You’ll see.
(They both smile. Then fist bump.)
Scene: The Train Ride
(Chapter 12 then the train ride

JO addresses the audience.)
JO. When I was in the hospital, eating gross food, watching

Nick at Nite. I decided to write this book for serious.
(The opening panels reappear.

In a separate part of the stage, in the classroom, MS.
DELANEY packs up her bag, preparing to leave the
school.)
JO (cont’d). I missed almost three weeks of school. A week

in the hospital, then recuperating at home. Mickey was
super-freaked about what this was going to do to my
chances of getting into arts school, so he was pushing me
harder to get what he was calling “my portfolio” of work
together. By the time I had to go back, I had finished the
first three chapters. And as much as I didn’t want to step
foot in that place, Ms. D would be there. I hadn’t seen her
since the hospital.
MS. DELANEY (reading). “The half-year since he had last

been with him seemed neither a long nor a short span of
time.”
JO. I thought about Carson McCullers. And the part of the
book where Singer goes on a long train ride to see his
friend. Like all the anticipation of that—
MS. DELANEY (reading). “Singer did not eat. Singer did
not sleep. He pressed his face close against the glass and
strained to see into the night.”
JO. I remember standing on my porch that morning. It was
so bright. A damp autumn wind kicked up leaves from the
gutters. This was the day. Game on. I walked through the
morning in a fog. People smiled or just stared as I went
through the halls. I didn’t look at anyone. I couldn’t dis-
tinguish any faces.
MS. DELANEY. “The train was more than an hour late …
The darkness was heavy and velvety … “
JO. The only thing that felt real was the soft leather binding
of the sketchbook. I kept it in my lap through first and se-
cond period. The weight of it calmed me. Soft focus, soft
focus, soft focus.
MS. DELANEY. “His thoughts were with his friend … the
bliss of their reunion almost stifled him”
JO. After the sound of the second period bell, I was ex-
hausted already. My head throbbed. The hall was filled
with nauseating waves of blank faces. I stopped in the
bathroom. Washed my hands. A sort of baptism. And
headed to 415.
MS. DELANEY. “It was Tuesday the eighteenth of July.”
JO. It was Monday the fourteenth of November.
MS. DELANEY. “In the doorway of the room he saw that
his friend was not there.”
JO. I saw from the hall her chair was empty. A pillar of
black filled the doorway. Father Julian cleared his throat.
Ms. Delaney was no longer teaching at St. Paul’s. There
were some “irreconcilable differences.”
(The stage goes dark. The same screeching of a commut-

er train fills the theater from the opening of the play.
Slowly in animation, the single white headlight of the
approaching train fills the screen then freezes.
The stage is empty for a beat.)
EMMA. Jo was gone before I understood what had hap-

pened.
MICKEY. My phone buzzed. Jo texted me:
(The screen begins to fill with a collage of “fml” over

and over.)
MICKEY. Jo had the hallpass. We were trapped for another

forty minutes.
EMMA. As soon as the bell rang Mickey and I divided up
the school.
MICKEY. I took the grounds outside. Emma took all the
bathrooms.
EMMA. We looked for her everywhere.
MICKEY. I checked the chapel.
EMMA. I checked the library.
MICKEY. I checked the loading dock.
EMMA. I checked the cafeteria.
MICKEY. I checked the nurse’s office.
EMMA. I checked the chem lab.
MICKEY. I checked the arts studio. We texted her over and

over.
EMMA. But it was always the same response.
(The screen continues to fill with JO’s text:

fml. fml. fml … )
EMMA. And then I tried the one place we’d never expect
her to be.
(Panel of the empty locker room.

JO sits on the locker-room bench. EMMA comes in and
sits down beside her. They sit in silence for a minute.
EMMA takes JO’s hand. JO buries her head in EMMA’s
shoulder. EMMA holds her fiercely.)
Scene: Afterword
(Afterword
The Chagall window at the Art Institute of Chicago as
imagined by JO fills the screen. They glow their bril-
liant blue.)
JO. They’re not bad.

MICKEY. Not bad!!
JO. Well, I’m not saying I could do better.
MICKEY. Look at that blue!?
JO. It’s very … blue.
MICKEY. You’re crushing my soul, a little.
(They stare at the windows.)

JO. I saw Ms. D.

MICKEY. When?
JO. Last week.
MICKEY. Where?
JO. I was waiting to cross the tracks. On my way to school.
She was waiting on the other side. Heading the opposite
direction.
MICKEY. Did she see you?
JO. Yeah, I was going to dash across, but an express train
came through and when it passed, she was gone.
MICKEY. That’s so bizarre.
JO. I know.
MICKEY. I mean I guess I didn’t realize she still lived in
town.
JO. Well, her farewell card had a LaGrange address, so—
MICKEY. Maybe it was a sign.
JO. Jesus, Mickey.
MICKEY. No really, and I’ve been thinking …
(JO stares vacantly at the window.)
MICKEY (cont’d). I was rereading what you have, and so

much is really really good. Like publishable good.
JO (noncommittal). Mmm.
MICKEY. I think you should finish it.
(MICKEY tries to hand her the journal. She doesn’t take it.)
MICKEY (cont’d). I mean not this very minute. Doesn’t

have to be today. (Holds it out again.) But I think it
would be a shame not to. Don’t you? You’re like more
than half way through it.
JO (shrugs). I don’t know. It’s just not the same. I wanted

her to read it. And now, that just feels pointless. (Stares at
the Chagall. Reaches for and takes the journal without
looking at it.)
MICKEY. But she could. And someone else will read it.
Someone you don’t even know.
(JO considers.)
MICKEY (cont’d). I just think it would be good. For you to

finish it. You would get some closure.
JO. I got closure.
MICKEY. OK. Maybe it would give me some too.
(JO opens the journal.

The Chagall window fades on stage. Projection of fml
title page appears.
JO steps out of the graphic novel.)
JO. “In the town … there were two mutes … and they were
always together.”
(Blackout.)
END OF PLAY

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fml: how Carson McCullers

Dramatic Publishing Company

COPYRIGHT LAW GIVES THE AUTHOR OR THE AUTHOR’S AGENT

“Produced by special arrangement with

“fml: how Carson McCullers saved my life was originally commissioned

Artistic Director............................................... Martha Lavey

AT RISE: In the black the echoing sound of a package

MS. DELANEY (reading the cover). fml: how Carson

(Blackout. Sound of thousands of pages flipping. Pro-

In the whiteout we hear a cacophony of slamming lock-

Scene: English Class

MS. DELANEY. My apologies to those of you who com-

(New groans. EMMA takes the list.)

MS. DELANEY (cont’d). Most notably the first book we

(MS. DELANEY hands JO a list. JO takes it without

MS. DELANEY (cont’d). Young lady, your name please?

(All turn to face JO, who is quietly scanning the list.

MS. DELANEY (cont’d, consulting class roster in her

MS. DELANEY. Right. Jo. Can you read aloud tomorrow’s

MS. DELANEY (cont’d). Really? Shall I just take it on faith

(MICKEY’s hand shoots up.)

MS. DELANEY (cont’d). Uh, Malachi?

MICKEY. Is that the reading we’re supposed to have done

(Silence. MICKEY reads the syllabus then shoots his

MS. DELANEY (cont’d, consulting her roster). Mr.

(Audible groans. PING. EMMA reaches for her phone

MS. DELANEY. So, since there seems to be a bit of preoc-

Good Man is Hard to Find was on your sophomore litera-

(JO draws in the margins of her notebook.

MS. DELANEY (cont’d). Let’s see what path Carson

(JO continues to draw.

MS. DELANEY (cont’d, reading). “In the town there were

(JO steps away from her desk—she is lost in her own

JO. In school there was one of my kind. I was always alone.

(Panel of JO standing alone.)

MS. DELANEY. “Early every morning they would come

(Bell rings, end of class.)

MS. DELANEY (cont’d). We will pick this up tomorrow.

(MS. DELANEY leaves. EMMA turns to JO, a not-so-

EMMA. We still on for Chem Lab?

(EMMA is gone. MICKEY sits next to JO.)

MICKEY. What are you doing with that?

(MICKEY flips open JO’s notebook.

JO (cont’d). Hey—don’t mess with—

MICKEY. But you know what you need?

(Prologue appears on the screen.

A new drawing appears. It’s the middle of the town of

JO (cont’d). This is LaGrange. Where our story takes place.

(Drawing of the blinking cross-gates caught in mid de-

JO (cont’d). So yeah, LaGrange. We got all the normal

(Panel of a run-down Victorian house in the midst of

JO (cont’d). I live here. It’s a shit-hole on the south end of

the wrong idea. I didn’t want you to think that we were

(The drawing fades.)

JO (cont’d). OK, end of Prologue.

Scene: Jo’s Bedroom

(Chapter 2 then mixed messages

drinks a Redbull. JO and EMMA bust through the door,

EMMA (to the tune of Elton John’s Your Song). “Ba ba ba

(EMMA has climbed up on the bed and startled REED

REED. Jesus. Hi Enema.

(EMMA hums Elton John’s Your Song.)

JO. He doesn’t know. We don’t know.