CHARACTERS

AN, a snarky seventeen-year old girl and budding fantasy writer
SIMON, an arrogant and obnoxious jock with a soft spot for poetry
MIRA, An's best friend; a naive girl with a taste for pink clothing

SETTING

Bus/A modern-day Indian cafe in Toronto

(We see the bus's interior. AN and MIRA sit opposite each other, both girls preoccupied and visibly uneasy. MIRA's feet bounce impatiently against the floor while AN takes brief glances at her cell phone in a compulsive manner, snagging MIRA's notice. She crosses her ankles and sighs.)

MIRA
Are you sure about this date? You know, online relationships have a narrow chance of actually developing…

AN
(sighs exasperatedly) It's not a date, Mira. For the last time, we're friends who happen to live in the same city, so we'd thought it'd be interesting to meet up. (She looks out the window wistfully.) See the real face of my co-author, you know?

MIRA
(practically whining) But stiiiiill. What if she's actually a creepy old man––or worse, Kuchisake-onna, the slit-faced lady from Japan who asks if she's pretty, and then…

AN
She wouldn't want anything to do with Toronto.

(The bus bolts to a sudden stop as the doors swing open and several passengers pour out. AN hesitantly stands up to leave as well, but finds that MIRA is grasping her wrist.)

MIRA
Bring me back a chapati at least?

AN
…I don't know what that is, but I'll try!

(MIRA pulls her into a hug)

MIRA
(spoken rapidly) I can't believe this is actually happening…I love you, An––please be careful! Don't get killed by Kuchisake-onna!

AN
(straining) Ach––yeah, same here––but the doors––

(MIRA finally lets go, albeit hesitantly)

AN
I'll see you on Monday. (She steps outside and the bus drives off in the opposite direction. We see the sign for Delhi Delite, the quaint cafe of which An and her friend chose to meet up.)

AN
Delhi Delite. Cute. (She takes out her phone and plops on a seat, awkwardly narrating her texts.) Already here! Restaurant looks super neat, can't wait to see you! Smiley-face emoji. Winking emoji. Heart emoji.

SIMON (offstage)
Are you seriously saying your emojis out loud?

AN
(deadpanning as she still looks at her phone) Yes I am, nosy stranger. Are you seriously commentating my habits?

(SIMON walks on stage, a pleasant expression on his face, seemingly at ease until his laptop buzzes.)

SIMON
Hmm. (takes a seat across from AN) “Already here”, hm? Um…hey, have you heard of Wattpad?

AN
Yes, Sir. I'm waiting for my friend from there. We were supposed to discuss our story for the Wattys––I mean, a contest.

SIMON
This is a shameful way of meeting, then. Call me Simon.

(AN looks up abruptly, unpleasantly shocked as recognition hits her. The ENSEMBLE returns on stage, clad in school uniform to act as the students from a high school. After SIMON and MIRA shrug on their school jackets, everyone except for AN freezes. The scenery dims to focus on her.)

AN
Simon Kapoor. (stands up) The jock stereotype incarnate. So evidently, the worst person on Earth.

(SIMON thaws and walks towards MIRA.)

SIMON
(tauntingly) Aw, it's the little girl. (wraps an arm around her neck) Hi, Mira. Thanks for the love note, pity you decided to file it under garbage. (pushes her down) You're not my type, though. I'd prefer my girlfriends to actually be girls, not sugar skulls. Muy malo, ¿si?

MIRA
Wh––what?

(SIMON turns to see his friends darting sharp, expectant glares in his direction. Slowly, he kneels before a fallen MIRA, tipping her chin so their eyes meet.)

SIMON
(slowly, as if talking to a child) Next time you make a fool of me in front of everyone, it will be more than your note being torn.

(He rips the note to shreds and tosses the scraps on MIRA before striding away. With that, the flashback ends and the ENSEMBLE wanders offstage.)

SIMON
Did you––did you just narrate…

AN
(interrupting) Rejected my friend publicly, humilated her––worst part, this isn't even the first time. You're not supposed to do that. It's rude. Immoral. If things were up to me, you'd be dead, like––ten years ago.

SIMON
I'm sorry…we go to the same school?

AN
(mocking) Don't be dumb. You know who you torment.

SIMON
(ignores her) What do you think of this paragraph?

AN
This is a trick, isn't it? You set me up!

SIMON
No, I'm here to talk about this. (gestures towards laptop) You sent me messages on Wattpad about you and your life that were doubtlessly overpersonal, but now you see me in the flesh, and you don't want anything to do with me. (stands) I'm the same person, screen name or no. Aren't I?

AN
(quietly) Anyone can feign kindness under a screen.

SIMON
Look. (sighs heavily) I know what I did with that girl was wrong, but can we forget that for now? Can we just talk about our story, like we planned to?

AN
Not until you apologize.

SIMON
I'd do that, but I can't––

AN
Why not? Why can't you? Afraid it'll hurt your reputation?

(Silence ensues, SIMON gazing downwards sullenly as AN looks off in the distance, glances at her phone, then pushes her chair against the circular table.)

AN
(quietly) There's a …a four o'clock bus nearby. Change the password of your account. I won't be working on the story anymore.

SIMON
(mimicking her tone) I figured as much. At least let me…

AN
Don't buy me anything, just––get lost!

(AN storms offstage, leaving SIMON to wallow in his solitude. He types a few lines on the laptop before peering at it narrowly and slamming the screen down in defeat. Plainly in anguish, he rests his head in the folds of his arms, on the brink of tears.

Enter FRIEND #1, #2, #3, and #4, high-school boys all donning casual dress and haughty gaits as they swagger onstage and steal the seats of SIMON's table. He looks up, unsurprised.)

FRIEND #1
Hey. That was pretty epic. Best set-up I've ever seen. (pats him on the back with rigor) Good job.

FRIEND #3
You did well, Si.

SIMON
…how much did you guys see?

FRIEND #1
Ehh…I came after the chick stopped with the flashback.

FRIEND #4
But did you hit her? Like that other girl in the pink cardigan, but better.

FRIEND #2
Bro, that would have been the only thing to make this more ep––

SIMON
Wait a second––(stands up) why are you guys here? None of this has anything to do with you.

(FRIEND #1 slowly stands up with him in a hostile approach, leaning towards SIMON as if to intimidate him.)

FRIEND #1
Everything you do has to do with us, Simon Kapoor. And we want you to teach that girl a better lesson.

FRIEND #3
Fight her!

SIMON
But––she's my friend.

FRIEND #2
You can't let her get away that easy.

FRIEND #3
Fight! Fight! Fight!

(All four boys fall into the chant as SIMON backs away, almost offstage, as something shoves his back again into the crowd. It's AN, a smug grin on her face as she grasps his wrist.)

SIMON
…I thought you left!

AN
Don't think this is for you. I promised Mira I'd get her something. Now come on!

(AN and SIMON dash inside the restaurant, chests heaving as they cast each other secretive smiles.)

SIMON
Why did you come back?

AN
(shrugs) I'm not a complete jerk. Why didn't you tell me you were forced to do this stuff?

SIMON
Well––there's sort of this demonic pact chained between them and me––something to do with my familial proximity to the school's chairman.

AN
Ahh. The origin story of all high school bullies.

SIMON
They have their own reasons, unbeknownst to me. My friends are surprisingly secretive despite them sharing their entire lives online and whatnot.

AN
I'm An. An Thanh. And it's nice to actually meet the real you, Simon Kapoor.

SIMON
Did I really need someone to bully me in order for you to believe me?

AN
(laughs) That was wrong on my part.

SIMON
Sure was.

(Beat.)

AN
(giddily) So?

SIMON
So what?

AN
Are we ordering or what?

SIMON
I eat Indian food every day so…no?

AN
Come oooon. You can buy Mira an apology chapati.

SIMON
You're not supposed to eat that by itself.

AN
What is a chapati, though?

(SIMON laughs and goes on to explain, his words partially obscured by a sweeping finale piece as the curtains come to a close.)

THE END