Shakespeare's Hat
MANDY JO: Aaaaahh! Whoever said English majors are wimps didn’t know what they were talking about. Carrying around a bag full of books is the surest way to strong muscles. Good thing my meeting with Theresa isn’t until tomorrow. Hopefully it will stop raining before then. It’s not supposed to be cold and rainy in May. Why did I sign up for summer school? (Looks at book bag and is reminded of her previous train of thought.) I can’t believe I have a partner. This wasn’t even my idea. What right does Professor Winkler--
(BETH enters, soaking wet, a picture of what is meant by “big-boned,” with short, red, curly hair. She sits down at her desk, pulling off her socks and shoes. She takes a towel from her closet and dries her hair.)
Forgot your umbrella, didn’t you?
BETH: It wasn’t raining when I left. (Hands MANDY JO a white notebook.) Here. I must’ve grabbed your notebook by accident this morning.
MANDY JO: (Laughs.) Then this must be yours. (Pulls another white notebook out of her bag.) I knew we shouldn’t have gotten the same type of notebook.
(BETH trips over one of MANDY JO’s books.)
BETH: Oh! Hey, could you please stack your books on your desk? I keep falling over them.
MANDY JO: It’s not my fault English majors need so many books to help them write. But yeah, I’ll try to keep them out of your way.
BETH: (Notices MANDY JO’s hat.) This is new. Little early for Halloween, isn’t it Mandy Jo?
(BETH takes hat from MANDY JO and puts it on.)
Whatcha think? Is it me?
MANDY JO: Hey! Be careful with that. (She takes the hat and makes a big production out of dusting it off and putting it reverently on her own head.) I got it from a resale shop on 9th street--Vagabond Venues. The lady said that this is the exact same style of hat Shakespeare wore.
BETH: William Shakespeare? He musta had really lousy taste in hats.
MANDY JO: No one asked for your opinion.
BETH: Hunh. I’m heading over to the library as soon as I dry off. Want to come? Of course, if you do, you have to ditch the stupid hat.
MANDY JO: It’s not stupid! I don’t make any comments about what you wear.
BETH: The stuff I wear is normal.
MANDY JO: You mean boring. Why are you going to the library? You’re a pre-vet major.
BETH: I need a book.
MANDY JO: Science books are on the second floor--around the corner from the computer lab.
BETH: I, ah, was going to look for a book of poetry.
MANDY JO: I’m sorry. My hearing must be going. I thought you said “a book of poetry.”
BETH: I did.
MANDY JO: Why? You don’t need to read poems--
BETH: Why not?
MANDY JO: I’m just wondering what a sciency major like yourself wants with a book of poetry.
BETH: I’d rather not say. (Checks her watch.) Shouldn’t you be in class?
MANDY JO: No, Professor Winkler let us out early so could get started on our outline. I have a meeting with my partner tomorrow at the Union. (BETH hangs towel on an empty hanger in her closet and moves over to the tidy desk.)
BETH: Your professor is making you do a group presentation? It's summer!
MANDY JO: Your point?
BETH: I thought Intersession classes were supposed to be easier.
MANDY JO: (Laughing.) What planet are you on? Don't you know what Intersession means?
(BETH shakes her head.)
It means we take the entire semester class in a month. We do a week's worth of work every day!
BETH: Are you sure? I don't find my classes that hard. I'm glad I’m not an English major though. It sounds like you get a lot of work.
MANDY JO: Well I wouldn’t be a science major if you paid me! And it’s not a group presentation. It’s for my Intro to Fiction class. Professor Winkler said we could do either a novella--
BETH: (Stroking the teddy bear.) What’s that?
MANDY JO: Now that’s what I call stupid. You make jokes about my hat but I think any college student who has a teddy bear on her desk has no room to talk.
BETH: My dad gave me this!
MANDY JO: Big deal. You’re an adult now--you should have left it at home.
BETH: Why are you so crabby today? PMS?
MANDY JO: (Ignoring the comment.) A novella is a short novel. I forgot you’re not an English major.
BETH: Wouldn’t that just be a short story?
MANDY JO: No. We can write either a novella or three short stories--
BETH: Wait a minute; what’s the difference between a novella and a short story?
MANDY JO: That’s not important. Since I’m an experienced writer--(BETH snorts.) excuse you. Since I’m an experienced writer, I decided to go with the novella, of course.
BETH: Of course. And tell me, Ms. Experience, how long are these...stories...supposed to be?
MANDY JO: The novella is 20 to 30 pages and the short stories are about 5 to 10 each.
BETH: And you chose the novella? Are you nuts? That’s a lot more work than a short story! Especially during Intersession. You’ve got what, four weeks to pull it off?
MANDY JO: That’s plenty of time. I’ve written way more than you. I know about these things. Besides, I’ve got my story all worked out already.
BETH: Uh-huh. Are you sure you’re up for the challenge?
MANDY JO: (Obviously changing subject.) It’s not a challenge. That old prune, Professor Winkler, is so clueless. Who uses outlines anymore? They’re so outdated.
BETH: I thought outlines were those things you put in front of a report.
MANDY JO: An outline for our novella or first story--it’s due Wednesday.
BETH: But today’s Monday! Can you pull it off?
MANDY JO: No sweat, it’ll only take me like an hour or so. Professor Winkler said he wants to foster ‘community spirit,’ whatever that is. (Takes paper out of her pocket and reads.) “For the first assignment students will pair up for support and feedback.” Like I need any of that. (Reads again.) “Feel free to see me at any time for additional assistance.” Sheesh, what a nutcase.
BETH: That makes a lot of sense--split up people who you want to grow into a community.
MANDY JO: Whom.
BETH: Huh?
MANDY JO: You said “split up people who you want.” You’re supposed to say “whom you want.”
BETH: You are the only person I know who would call someone on that type of mistake.
MANDY JO: Even non-English majors should care about the way they speak, Beth.
(BETH sticks her tongue out.)
Oh, that’s mature.
BETH: Who says we have to be mature? I dunno, Mandy Jo, it sounds like a lot of work. Isn’t that class usually for juniors and seniors? You’re only a freshman. Maybe you should stick with the three stories.
MANDY JO: That’s way too easy! I want a challenge, Beth! I can handle anything that professor throws my way. I’ve been writing for as long as I can remember.
BETH: You’re eighteen. Your memory can’t be that long.
MANDY JO: I still remember the first poem I ever wrote: “The horsie went fast/And as he went past/the rest of the horsies/all came in last.”
(BETH laughs.)
What? Like you could have done better in fifth grade?
BETH: (Choking back giggles.) Nothing. A poem when you’re ten is cool and all, but have you ever written anything longer?
MANDY JO: I’ve been writing stories since before you could read them!
BETH: We’re the same age!
MANDY JO: (Removes hat from her head and fluffs the feather.) Don’t talk about what you don’t understand. Writers are members of an inner society not everyone can be part of. I wouldn’t expect you to get it.
BETH: Whatever. Are you taking any other classes?
MANDY JO: Nope. I told you that last night.
BETH: Sorry. I’m surprised you aren’t taking more than one class. I thought you were a big shot English major.
MANDY JO: (Replaces hat on her head.) There’s nothing wrong with that. I knew I was taking Advanced Fiction, so I decided to take it easy and give myself plenty of time to devote to this. This is my big break, Beth. (Gets progressively louder.) I’m going to really focus on this outline. My novella will blow away the competition. Everyone will be begging for my help. I’ll get an offer for my first book by the end of this month!
BETH: Stop fiddling with that hat. It looks so dumb.
MANDY JO: Mind your own business. This is my inspiration. I wouldn’t be surprised if--
BETH: Chill, Shakespeare. You haven’t even started on your “novella” yet. And how many freshmen do you know that have been published?
MANDY JO: None, but that’s because I haven’t written the award-winning novella yet.
BETH: So what’s this “award-winning novella” going to be about?
MANDY JO: Why should I tell you? You’d probably steal it.
BETH: I would never!
MANDY JO: It’s about the theft of a copy of the Declaration of Independence.
BETH: Really?
MANDY JO: That’s all I can tell you, but it’s going to be fantastic. You’ll see!
BETH: Well, good luck, but I still don’t think you should set your sights too high. What if you crash?
MANDY JO: I won’t.
BETH: You will if you wear that hat in public.
(MANDY JO ignores her and plays with the hat’s position on her head.)
All right. So who’s your partner?
MANDY JO: That’s the worst part! Professor Winkler said that since I’m the only freshman in this class he’s pairing me with a senior--Theresa somebody or other.
BETH: (Reaching over and absently stacking MANDY JO’s books on her desk.) That will be hard.
MANDY JO: You’re telling me! What are you doing?
BETH: Your desk’s a mess. You know, Theresa’s probably a lot better than you are. It might be awkward for you to work with someone who’s practically a professional writer.
MANDY JO: Practically a professional writer? I don’t need any help! I’m an experienced author!
BETH: Uh-huh.
MANDY JO: Well I’m a lot more experienced than you are.
BETH: That’s why I was looking for a poetry book. I’ve signed up for Intro to Poetry and--
MANDY JO: (Throws open her arms and declaims to an imaginary audience.) Ladies and gentlemen! It is official. The world as we know it is coming to an end. A science major in a creative writing course? What is this college coming to?
BETH: What’s that supposed to mean?
MANDY JO: Why on earth did you sign up for it? You’re--
BETH: I know, I know. I’m not an English major. Did it ever occur to you that non-English majors like to write? I started working on some poems and a short story last semester. I figure I can use some of my poems for my class and just keep the story for fun. Now I know why you get such a rush out of writing. To be able to play God and create whole worlds of people dependant on you for their every thought and move... (Shakes her head in wonder.) I’ve almost finished it. I was going to try to get into an Intro to Fiction class but it was filled so I decided to try my hand at poetry instead. (MANDY JO stares in shock.) What? I just wanted to try something new. I get sick of the same science-themed classes.
MANDY JO: But creative writing? What on earth possessed you to choose that?
BETH: I wanted to get into your class so we could do something together. (Quieter.) I miss having class with you. This isn’t like high school. Last year our schedules were so different we couldn’t even eat lunch together.
MANDY JO: Beth, have you had your poetry class yet?
BETH: Last Thursday, but that doesn’t really count since we just received our syllabus. I can’t believe we already have a poem due tomorrow. I’m really nervous. I don’t know if I have what it takes to pass this class. I wonder...would you be willing to--
MANDY JO: (Sharply.) Drop it.
BETH: (Jumps, dropping a thick book on her foot.) Ye-ow!
MANDY JO: Watch it! You might have snapped the spine!
BETH: (Sitting on the floor and inspecting her foot.) Never mind my toes.
MANDY JO: Your toes are fine. And I meant, “drop your poetry class,” not “drop the book.”
BETH: What? Why should I drop my class?
MANDY JO: You’re a straight A student. If you take this poetry class you’ll either flunk it or get a D, maybe a low C--
BETH: How do you know? You’ve never read anything I’ve written.
MANDY JO: This is for your own good--trust me.
(BETH jumps up from the floor and busies herself rummaging through her backpack; pulling out papers and shoving them back in.)
What are you looking for?
BETH: (Crosses to MANDY JO’s bed and brandishes a paper over her.) This is one of the poems I’ve been working on over the summer. I was going to ask you for some feedback, but--
MANDY JO: (Snatching at paper.) Feedback? No problem.
(The two fight over the paper.)
BETH: Hey! Stop! Mandy Jo, knock it off!
(MANDY JO jumps up and waves the paper over BETH, who can’t reach as high. The hat falls onto the floor.)
MANDY JO: Got it!
BETH: No! Don’t read it. I’ve changed my mind.
MANDY JO: (Reads.) “Spider. A poem by--” (MANDY JO breaks into laughter.)
BETH: It isn’t funny!
MANDY JO: S-sorry. I just can’t believe you wrote a poem. I mean, you’re not even an English major and you think you can write a poem? One doesn’t just sit down and pull a poem out of her ass, Beth. Poetry isn’t spontaneous--it requires practice, skill, and talent. You’ve never taken a creative writing course before. You wouldn’t know how to write poetry if you fell over an instruction manual.
BETH: (Under her breath.) I’ve fallen over your books often enough.
MANDY JO: (Reads.) “Spider. A poem by Elisabeth Whittington.--
(BETH groans, curls up on MANDY JO’s bed, and covers her head with her arms. MANDY JO continues reading.)
“I saw a homeless man today.
His clothes were old--
tattered remnants of happier times.
He lay, tired, on a bed of boxes and boards.
In his beard,
a spider conspicuous as a black moth in winter.” Oh brother, Beth, you have got to be kidding.
(BETH sits up quickly.)
BETH: I showed it to Adam and he thought it was great.
MANDY JO: What would your boyfriend know? He’s an Engineering major.
BETH: So?
MANDY JO: So, only English majors know about writing...or even should attempt it.
BETH: (Rolls her eyes.) Fine, then. What’s so wrong with my poem?
MANDY JO: There are some, um, structural concerns.
BETH: Like what?
(MANDY JO pulls a pen out of her pocket and starts furiously marking on the page.)
What are you doing? That’s my only copy! Don’t write on it!
MANDY JO: (Ignoring BETH.) Take your line “He lay, tired.”
BETH: And?
MANDY JO: You need a conjunction there. Say, “He lay, because he was tired.” It makes more sense that way.
BETH: That doesn’t sound right.
MANDY JO: Who’s the English major here?
BETH: As if you’d ever forget.
MANDY JO: Just add the “because.” Trust me.
BETH: Fine.
MANDY JO: And see this line “On a bed of boxes and boards”?
BETH: Yeah.
MANDY JO: Don’t say “on,” use “upon.” It sounds better.
BETH: I thought no one said “upon” anymore. Isn’t it kind of archaic?
MANDY JO: Don’t throw around words you don’t know the meaning of.
BETH: I know what “archaic” means, Mandy Jo. It means ancient. I’m not stupid.
MANDY JO: I didn’t say you were.
BETH: Then stop talking down to me.
MANDY JO: Say “Upon a bed of boxes and boards.”
BETH: If you say so.
MANDY JO: I do. The words, as far as they go, are chosen rather nicely, but that’s not your biggest problem. Your biggest problem is--
BETH: I’m almost afraid to hear this.
MANDY JO: Your biggest problem is that it’s not even a poem.
(BETH jumps off the bed and stands toe-to-toe with MANDY JO.)
BETH: What the heck do you mean it’s not a poem? It is a poem! I wrote it and I say it’s a poem!
(MANDY JO takes a step back and retrieves her hat.)
MANDY JO: No, it’s just a few sentences lumped together to look like a poem.
BETH: What’s wrong with that? A poem is what you make it, right? It doesn’t have to rhyme or have a set scheme or--
MANDY JO: Of course it has to rhyme--that’s why they call it poetry. If poetry didn’t have to rhyme, then everyone would try their hand at it.
BETH: And that’s a bad thing?
MANDY JO: (Brushes hat off and balances it on her head.) I should think the answer to that would be obvious, even to a non-English major such as yourself. If everyone wrote poems, then there would be no place for writers.
BETH: But that doesn’t make any sense--
MANDY JO: It does--it makes perfect sense! You just can’t see it, that’s all.
BETH: See what? Forget it. I have to meet Adam at the library. He said he’d help me choose a poetry book. Besides, I suddenly find it very stuffy in here.
(BETH snatches paper out of MANDY JO’s hand--heavy red marks cover the page--and exits, almost running. Her face is pinched as though fighting back tears.)
MANDY JO: What is she talking about? The window’s wide open.
(MANDY JO is seated at the table on the other side of the stage.)
MANDY JO: (Fidgeting and checking her watch.) Where is she? You’d think a senior English major would know how to tell time.
(THERESA enters and stops by the door, looking for MANDY JO. She is dressed in a long khaki skirt with a cream top and brown vest. Her black hair is pulled into a fat bun at the nape of her neck.)
Theresa! Over here.
(THERESA quickly crosses to MANDY JO and puts her bag on the table before sitting opposite MANDY JO.)
THERESA: Hi, Mandy Jo. What’s with the hat?
MANDY JO: (Sighs.) It’s the same kind of hat Shakespeare wore when he wrote.
THERESA: Really? I didn’t think that hat was in style during his time--
MANDY JO: It was. I’ve already come up with the perfect idea for my story. I don’t know why Professor Winkler wants us to work in pairs--I’m comfortable tackling this on my own.
THERESA: Whoa, back up there, Shakespeare. Professor Winkler is a highly recognized author who has published at least seven books. You’d do well to listen to him.
MANDY JO: (Grudgingly.) Sorry.
THERESA: It’s okay. Lots of freshmen grumble about his quirks.
MANDY JO: You mean he has the same requirements in Basic Composition?
THERESA: Basic Comp? I’m talking about his advanced classes. (In response to MANDY JO’s confused look.) What? Surely you don’t think you’re the first freshman in the history of Houthnom College to be allowed to take Advanced Fiction?
MANDY JO: No...I...guess not.
THERESA: Good. Wouldn’t want you getting an ego before you start writing, now would we?
MANDY JO: I don’t have an ego.
THERESA: Good. Why don’t we get to know each other before we start. Let’s see...I’m a senior English major with a concentration in creative writing. I participated in the May ceremony but still need this one class to fulfill Houthnom’s requirements.
MANDY JO: Will you be going straight to work as an author then?
THERESA: No...I’m going to enter the University of Iowa’s graduate program this fall.
MANDY JO: Why there?
THERESA: They have the number one creative writing program in the nation. It’s like 20 grand a year though, so I might have to take out a few loans. Um, I’ve been managing editor for our literary magazine for the past two years--but I’ve contributed to it all four years, as well as to my high school’s magazine.
MANDY JO: That’s great, but have you had anything published in the real world?
THERESA: Actually, I have. I just co-wrote an article on the mythology of ancient Egypt with Professors Sawton and Kenswick.
MANDY JO: Oh. Well, I’m a freshman English major, also with a concentration in creative writing.
THERESA: Why are you taking Intersession if you’re only a freshman?
MANDY JO: I want to get done as soon as possible so I can become a published author. I haven’t published anything yet...but that’s only because I haven’t found the right publisher yet. Can we start on my story now?
(THERESA chuckles.)
THERESA: Sure.
MANDY JO: (Rummaging in her bag.) I had a bunch of ideas for the novella, but I’ve narrowed it down to one.
THERESA: Okay, let’s see what you got. (THERESA reads.) “One, what happens when a sane man is locked up in a mental hospital. Two, a little boy convinced there’s a monster under his bed disappears mysteriously. Three, a group of hoodlums try to steal the Declaration of Independence--”
MANDY JO: That’s the one I’m going to do.
THERESA: Hm...tell me more about your theft idea.
MANDY JO: It’s the perfect idea. The hoodlums all get into a car, see, and--
THERESA: How many hoodlums?
MANDY JO: Ten?
THERESA: It’s your story, Mandy Jo. Don’t ask me.
MANDY JO: Ten.
THERESA: All in the same car, huh? Must be a big one.
MANDY JO: It is.
THERESA: What are your hoodlums’ names?
MANDY JO: Uh...(Checks them off on her fingers.) Bobby... Danny... Tony... Johnny... Frankie... Ricky ... Tommy... how many is that?
THERESA: Seven.
MANDY JO: Bobby...
THERESA: You already have a Bobby.
MANDY JO: Um...Joey... Sammy...and... and... Louie.
THERESA: I don’t know if I’d end so many names with an “ee” sound. It makes your characters sound like they’re under the age of ten.
MANDY JO: They’re in their late teens to early twenties.
THERESA: How convenient. Who’s the oldest?
MANDY JO: Uh...Danny?
THERESA: (Sighs.) You’re the author--don’t guess.
MANDY JO: Danny--he’s...he’s...25.
THERESA: And who’s the youngest?
MANDY JO: Joey--I think he’s 16.
THERESA: Do you have the ages of the other eight decided yet?
MANDY JO: No, what does it matter?
THERESA: It matters a lot. It’s rather hard to write a story about characters whose ages are ambiguous. But never mind. Why are they stealing the Declaration of Independence?
MANDY JO: For ransom. (THERESA looks confused.) See, a copy of the D of I that was found in a dumpster and the--
THERESA: Back up. Exactly how did a copy of the Declaration of Independence get into the dumpster? I would think they would have an easier time finding one in a safe or a museum.
MANDY JO: I...ah...haven’t figured that out yet.
THERESA: Keep going.
MANDY JO: The copy of the D of I is being lent to a museum in...in...St. Louis--
THERESA: Which museum?
MANDY JO: The Museum of Antiquities.
THERESA: Mandy Jo, I’m from St. Louis. There is no Museum of Antiquities.
MANDY JO: So what? It’s fiction. I can improvise.
THERESA: It’s better to do your research and stick to the truth.
MANDY JO: Fine. Anyway, Danny and Joey--
THERESA: How do these ten hoodlums know each other? Between Danny and Joey alone there’s a decade in age difference.
MANDY JO: They’re...brothers. No! Cousins. Danny hears a copy of the Declaration of Independence was recently auctioned off for a huge amount of money--I don’t know how much yet. So he gets the bright idea of stealing it and holding it for ransom. That’s it.
(MANDY JO looks proud of herself and strokes her feather.)
THERESA: That’s it? That’s as far as you’ve gotten? Mandy Jo, today is Tuesday. I told you in class last Friday to have a fairly detailed outline and a clear idea of where you want to go and how you’re going to get there. I know you’re only a freshman--
MANDY JO: Hey, that doesn’t have anything to do with my talent!
THERESA: An outline shouldn’t take you this long. You’ve had (THERESA counts off on her fingers as she speaks.) Friday, Saturday, Sunday, and Monday. That’s four days, Mandy Jo. You barely know your characters’ names, let alone their ages and relationships.
MANDY JO: I...I’ve been busy. I’ll get it all figured out by tomorrow, don’t worry.
THERESA: You need to do a lot more thinking about it. The concept is pretty good, but you need to flesh out your basic conflict. Who are the protagonists? What do they want? That sort of thing.
(THERESA stands up and shrugs into her backpack.)
Good luck, Mandy Jo. You’re going to need it.
MANDY JO: Wait, aren’t we going to discuss your story?
THERESA: My story? You need to work on your own story before you help me with mine. I’ve already finished, anyway. Call me if you need any help.
(THERESA exits, whistling.)
MANDY JO: (Gathering her things to leave and taking her anger out on them.) Bitch! What the hell does she know? She hasn’t even published a poem, let alone a novella. Wait’ll Beth hears about this.
(We see BETH searching the room feverishly. MANDY JO enters, her face red with emotion. She throws her book bag violently against the wall and flops down onto her bed with her back to the room. MANDY JO addresses her remarks to BETH, who is too absorbed in her search to pay much attention.)
MANDY JO: (Rolling onto her back and pulling her hat over her face.) God, that conference was horrid. First, the bitch was fifteen minutes late. When she finally got her fat butt there we wasted ten minutes in idle chitchat. I don’t have to get to know her to know I don’t like her.
BETH: (Turns her attention to the closet.) Hmm...
MANDY JO: I think Winkler wanted her to make sure that I was on the right track. So I gave her my ideas.
BETH: (Goes to her desk and scatters papers.) Oh.
MANDY JO: She just chuckled and then proceeded to grill me on my idea.
BETH: (Dumps book bag onto the floor and kicks the contents around.) Uh-huh.
MANDY JO: Never mind the fact that it’s only Tuesday. I have plenty of time to figure out all that junk about characters and stuff. I hate her. No one has ever talked to me like that.
BETH: (Going to her bed and rifling the sheets.) Ah.
MANDY JO: Theresa told me my ideas weren’t fully developed, had no meaning and little thought. (Finally notices BETH’s activity.) Beth? Beth!
BETH: (Pauses to look at MANDY JO.) What?
MANDY JO: Are you listening to me?
BETH: Huh? Oh, yeah, bad conference. Got it. (To herself.) What the heck did I do with that stupid thing? I had it when I left the library, didn’t I?
MANDY JO: What are you looking for?
BETH: My notebook. You don’t have it, do you?
MANDY JO: Not unless that’s it on my desk.
BETH: (Snatches notebook off the desk and clutches it to her chest.) Oh, thank goodness! I thought I’d lost it for sure. (Pauses.) You didn’t read it, did you?
MANDY JO: No, what’s so special about it?
BETH: My story’s in there.
MANDY JO: What story?
BETH: I told you I was working on a story.
MANDY JO: Sorry. Did you and Adam find your poetry book?
BETH: Yep. (Pulls book out of her bag and reads.) “The Collected Poems of W.B. Yeats.”
MANDY JO: I don’t care for his work. Why are you writing a story?
BETH: Why not? Because I’m not an English major?
MANDY JO: (Pleased BETH finally understands.) Exactly.
BETH: (Checks watch before tossing notebook and poetry book onto her desk.) I need to get to class.
MANDY JO: (Glances at own watch.) It’s only 2:30. You don’t have class for another hour!
(BETH exits. MANDY JO picks up her own notebook and starts to sit at her desk, takes a look at the books stacked haphazardly and sits at BETH’s desk instead. She puts her notebook next to BETH’s and takes a pen from her bag. She sits down and pushes Yeats out of her way.)
Guess I should get started on my idea since Theresa seems to think I’m not focused enough. Bitch.
(Stares at the notebooks for a moment in confusion before opening the one on her right. Writing covers both sides of the pages. MANDY JO closes the notebook quickly.)
Whoops, wrong notebook. Beth would kill me if I read this without her permission. (Slowly opens notebook again but keeps her hand over the writing.) On the other hand, it is the duty of all English majors to make certain everyone writes correctly.
(The phone rings. MANDY JO jumps and looks around guiltily. She trips over the same book BETH dropped, causing her hat to slide over her eyes before she can answer the phone.)
Shit! Er...hello? (She waits for a reply and shoves her hat out of her face.) Sorry, Beth, I tripped over that damn book...Yes, the one you dropped. (Her eyes fall on BETH’s open notebook.) No, I don’t see your notebook anywhere... No, mine’s on my bed...You must have brought yours with you. That’s okay. G’bye.
(MANDY JO hangs up and grabs BETH’s notebook, muttering about an English major’s duty. Her eyes widen and she turns a few pages before beginning to read.)
“It was Monday night and closing in on the two a.m. bar curfew. The day had dawned clear and hot, with the New Mexico sun blazing down--leeching color and life from the city. The weatherman on channel eight predicted ‘a steamy night with lows in the mid-seventies and little to no chance of thunderstorms,’ but the murky cast to the sky proved the folly of listening to someone who drew smiling suns and frowning clouds for a living.” Where did Beth come up with this?
(BETH’s voice is heard outside the door. MANDY JO grabs both notebooks, tosses hers onto her bed and is holding BETH’s when BETH enters. MANDY JO thrusts BETH’s notebook behind her back.)
B-Beth! You’re back early!
BETH: I couldn’t find my notebook anywhere. Maybe it’s in my desk drawer.
(BETH turns to her desk, bangs open a drawer, and starts rooting around. MANDY JO hurriedly shoves BETH’s notebook under her own pillow and moves her notebook at the foot of her bed.)
Are you sure I took it with me?
MANDY JO: I could have sworn I saw you put it in your bag. Want me to help you look?
BETH: No...no. That’s okay. (BETH notices the notebook at the foot of MANDY JO’s bed and triumphantly holds it up.) Ah! Here it is.
MANDY JO: I...I think that’s mine.
BETH: (Flipping through it.) Rats, you’re right. Oh well--
(BETH tosses the notebook onto MANDY JO’s pillow. MANDY JO gasps, but the pillow isn’t dislodged.)
Are you okay?
MANDY JO: (Very quickly.) Yes! I’m fine!
BETH: Okay. Hey, as long as you’ve got your notebook, why don’t you put some sort of mark on it? Like your initials or something?
MANDY JO: (Dully.) Okay.
(MANDY JO stands and walks over to her desk. She locates a red pen and writes for a minute before holding up the notebook. Two huge letters, “MJ,” are written on the cover.)
Better?
BETH: Much! I’ll have to find my notebook later. Lucky I don’t need it for my poetry class. Wish me luck!
MANDY JO: (Recovering at the prospect of BETH’s departure.) I still think you’re making a mistake, trying to be a writer. Don’t take it too hard when you find out you can’t hack it.
BETH: Thanks for the vote of confidence.
(BETH exits as MANDY JO breaths a sigh of relief.)
MANDY JO: God, that was close.
(MANDY JO tosses her notebook aside and pulls BETH’s from under her pillow. She finds her place and continues reading.)
“The handful of occupants got up one by one and started for the door, Bernie’s bar buddy bringing up the rear. They gave Brenda a wide berth that spoke of recognition but not respect, like stepping over an old dog. She walked--”
(A knock is heard at the door. MANDY JO shoves the notebook back under her pillow and makes sure her hat is firmly on her head.)
C-Come in!
(THERESA enters, holding a leather-bound portfolio. She sits down at BETH’s desk.)
Theresa...hi. How did you know where I lived?
THERESA: Hi , Mandy Jo. I looked you up in the phone book. I hope you don’t mind, but I feel badly over how our conference went. Are you upset about our earlier meeting? You know, if you want to be a writer you’re going to have to develop a thicker skin.
(MANDY JO looks down at her hands. THERESA laughs.)
Not literally. I mean, don’t take things so personally.
MANDY JO: I wasn’t offended. It just got me thinking about my outline.
THERESA: That’s great! Want me to take a look at what you have so far?
MANDY JO: I...
THERESA: Did you really start working on your outline?
(MANDY JO looks all around the room, slowly. Her eyes travel to the door, the desks, the window, and light on her bed. She stops and chews her lip, fidgeting and pulling at her feather.)
If you haven’t done any work, just say so. I came over here to see if you needed any help, but if you’re not going to answer me then I guess I’m wasting my time. I’m disappointed in you, Mandy Jo, I thought you were serious about writing.
(THERESA stands and walks towards the door. MANDY JO seems to be undergoing an internal debate. As THERESA goes into the hallway, MANDY JO comes to a decision and pulls BETH’s notebook out.)
MANDY JO: Theresa, wait. I...
(THERESA comes back in the room and stands looking at MANDY JO with her arms crossed.)
THERESA: Yes?
(MANDY JO looks past THERESA into the hallway. She plays with the edges of the notebook as she speaks.)
MANDY JO: I do have something. I just couldn’t make my hoodlum idea work, so I tried something else.
(Takes a deep breath and hands THERESA the notebook.)
I hope you like it. It isn’t an outline...I started my story without it.
(THERESA sits down and reads silently. MANDY JO paces nervously, pulling on her feather and muttering.)
THERESA: (To herself as she reads.) Great plot...wonderful detail...knack for her characters... (Nods.) protagonist...antagonist...ooh, I like the “old dog” comment...
(MANDY JO stops pacing and stares at THERESA in amazement. THERESA continues reading for a bit before quickly scanning the rest, murmuring comments under her breath.)
Much better...completely different plot...more thought out...(To MANDY JO.) Mandy Jo, congratulations!
MANDY JO: Huh?
THERESA: This is one of the best stories I’ve read in a long time! You’ve got your characterizations down pat, you put in wonderful dialogue, and you’ve drawn your characters perfectly. I love all the little details you added. It’s fantastic!
MANDY JO: (Stunned.) You really think it’s good?
THERESA: Good? This is grade-A material, kid! Great job! Tell me all about it.
MANDY JO: Ah, well, I...I...just read something that inspired me, I guess. I can’t believe you like it. (Shakes her head.)
THERESA: I think you should consider entering this into “Voices.”
MANDY JO: The literary magazine? Are you sure?
THERESA: Yes. As editor, I can almost guarantee you this will make it in. (Checks watch.) Shit! I’m supposed to be in a meeting with Professor Winkler right now!
(Jams notebook into her portfolio and moves towards the door.)
MANDY JO: Can’t I have B--I mean my notebook back?
THERESA: I can’t wait for Professor Winkler to see this! I told him you were having trouble. He’ll be so pleased you’ve come so far in such a short amount of time. I’ll return it later this evening, okay? Bye!
(THERESA exits. MANDY JO stares in horror at the door. She slowly turns and crosses to the window, staring out. BETH enters, unheard and stands in the doorway before moving into the room.)
MANDY JO: What am I going to tell Beth?
BETH: About what?
(MANDY JO spins around, knocking herself off balance. She stumbles into her desk, knocking the inkstand off. It rolls towards BETH, who bends down to retrieve it.)
MANDY JO: Beth! (Notices the inkstand.) Shit!
BETH: That’s the second time my name has been coupled with a bodily waste product. Are you trying to tell me something?
(Hands her the inkwell.)
It’s kinda dented. Hope it wasn’t Shakespeare’s original inkwell.
(BETH laughs.)
MANDY JO: Thanks. Mom found it for me at a garage sale. There’re probably dozens out there.
BETH: Good thing it was empty. Or worse, full of red ink.
MANDY JO: Why?
BETH: (Giggling.) People would say we were caught red-handed. (MANDY JO, picking up her quill, drops it and leans against the wall.) What’s the matter with you? What were you going to tell me? Is everything okay? Mandy Jo?
MANDY JO: I...I’m sorry. Everything’s fine Beth. I was just going to tell you...I can’t find your notebook anywhere. I tore the room apart looking for it. It’s not under the beds, on the beds, under the desks, on the desks, it’s not in my book bag, it’s not anywhere.
BETH: Damn. I poured my heart into that notebook, Mandy Jo. You’re an English major--you don’t know what it’s like to sweat bullets to produce a story. (Sighs.)
MANDY JO: (To herself.) Oh, you’d be surprised. (Louder.) It’ll turn up somewhere. How did your poetry class go? Was it really horrible?
BETH: No. Professor Sawton read us some of his poetry after we handed in our poems. A couple of students volunteered to read their poems.
MANDY JO: Did you?
BETH: Actually, I did. Professor Sawton--
(MANDY JO slowly makes her way to her bed and sits, silently staring into space. She reaches up for her hat a few times but always pulls her hand back down. The phone rings and BETH answers.)
Hello? Sure, just a minute. (Holds phone out to MANDY JO.) It’s for you.
MANDY JO: (Taking phone.) Hello? Oh! (Puzzled.) Hi, Professor Winkler. I’m fine...(Stiffens suddenly and becomes very anxious.) Really? Well, okay, I’ll be right over. Bye.
(Hangs up and turns to BETH.)
That was Professor Winkler. He wants me to come to his office.
BETH: Did he say why?
MANDY JO: No, he just said he wants to talk to me about my story.
BETH: Oh, Mandy Jo, I bet he really likes it and wants to tell you in person! This is so exciting! Do you mind if I come with you? I’ve never been in a conference like this before. MANDY JO: I’d rather you didn’t.
BETH: Aw, come on, it’ll be fun. I won’t say a word--I’ll just sit in the back and listen. Please let me come.
MANDY JO: (Reluctantly.) If you really want to...
BETH: Thank you!
(The girls exit, chatting quietly.)
(BETH pulls a paper out of her pocket.)
BETH: Guess what?
BR> MANDY JO: I hate it when you say that.
BETH: (Ignoring MANDY JO’s comment.) I told Professor Sawton how nervous I was about being able to measure up in his class. He sat down with me and we went over my poem together.
MANDY JO: What did he say?
BETH: He loved it! I took notes so I could tell you what he said.
(BETH stops walking. MANDY JO continues for a few steps before stopping to look at her.)
BETH: (Refers to her paper.) He said I did a great job for a first timer. It was succinct and to the point. He also said no one uses “because” in a poem and “upon” sounds old fashioned. Professor Sawton even said I should seriously consider submitting this to "Voices" once I give it some polishing.
MANDY JO: (Unenthusiastic.) Wow, Beth, that’s great.
BETH: I’m so excited! Adam’s taking me out tonight to celebrate.
(MANDY JO knocks.)
WINKLER: Come in.
(PROFESSOR WINKLER, a short stout man in his late fifties and wearing a khaki suit with a green bowtie, is seated at his desk. There is a potted plant and a phone on the desk. Papers are scattered everywhere and there are books piled on both sides of the desk, as well as on the two chairs facing it. THERESA is talking to WINKLER when MANDY JO and BETH enter. She stops as soon as she sees them and mutters a quick goodbye before leaving. MANDY JO seems very ill at ease. BETH is excited.)
Hello, Mandy Jo. I’m glad you could stop by. Sorry my office is such a mess. Please, have a seat.
(The girls clear off the two chairs and sit. WINKLER looks at BETH and waits. MANDY JO doesn’t offer to introduce her.)
BETH: Hi, I’m Beth Whittington, Mandy Jo’s roommate. I hope you don’t mind my tagging along.
WINKLER: If Mandy Jo’s okay with it.
(Looks inquiringly at MANDY JO, who nods weakly.)
MANDY JO: Fine.
WINKLER: All right, then. (To MANDY JO, who squirms under his gaze. Holds up BETH’s notebook.) Mandy Jo, I’ve read a lot of stories in my time, but I have rarely seen such a natural gift for writing.
(MANDY JO begins to relax.)
Its originality and quick-witted commentary are quite delightful. You have an extraordinary command of the English language and it shows in your writing.
(MANDY JO is almost completely at ease again. She smiles knowingly at BETH, who winks.)
BETH: Wow! That is so great! (WINKLER looks amused.) Sorry.
WINKLER: No problem. As you said, Beth, that is great. There is only one small thing wrong with it.
MANDY JO: (Quickly.) Wrong?
WINKLER: Do you recall what we did in class yesterday?
MANDY JO: (Lost.) Yes...we wrote out a character sketch in class. What does this have to do with--
WINKLER: Well, I was just sitting here, grading your sketch, when Theresa came in waving your notebook. She told me your outline had taken a completely new direction. She insisted I read it right away.
(BETH grins knowingly.)
I’m an old man, and my eyes aren’t what they used to be, but I noticed that the writing in the notebook (Holds up the notebook before laying it in front of him.) is completely different than the writing on the paper you handed in to me at the end of class.
(BETH gasps. WINKLER holds up the paper and then places it next to the notebook.)
Take a look, Mandy Jo. Maybe you can explain it to me.
(BETH and WINKLER look at MANDY JO, who makes a production out of examining the paper and the notebook.)
BETH: I’m sure Mandy Jo has a good explanation. Mandy Jo?
(MANDY JO starts to squirm and stutter.)
MANDY JO: I...I...That is...
(BETH leans forward to take a closer look at the writing in the notebook.)
BETH: That’s my handwriting! (Reaches for the notebook.) This is my notebook! No wonder I couldn’t find it! (Turning to MANDY JO.) I can’t believe you!
WINKLER: Are you sure it’s yours?
BETH: I’d know my own handwriting, wouldn’t I? I’ve been working on it all last semester. I can prove it’s mine. It’s set in New Mexico, right? With Bernie, a private investigator, going into the Axhead Bar around one in the morning? (MANDY JO looks ill.) He goes into the bar and talks to Max, the bartender. His ex-wife, Brenda, comes in and tells him she has AIDS and cheated on him. Am I right?
WINKLER: Yes. Mandy Jo, I think you owe us an explanation.
MANDY JO: Beth, I didn’t know--
BETH: What the hell do you mean you didn’t know? I told you I was writing a story! Why did you steal it?
MANDY JO:
No one was supposed to know!
BETH: Well, guess what...we know!
MANDY JO: You weren’t supposed to find out! It was an accident, I--
BETH: What? You just “accidentally” gave Theresa my notebook instead of yours?
MANDY JO: (Grasping at a way out.) Yes!
BETH: Nice try, Mandy Jo. Don’t you remember writing your initials on the outside of your notebook? Think of something else.
MANDY JO: No, no...I didn’t mean to...I panicked. I was desperate.
BETH: Bullshit.
(She gets to her feet and paces back and forth.)
You’re supposed to be the greatest author since Shakespeare and you’re telling me you couldn’t even write an outline? That’s pathetic.
MANDY JO: I didn’t know what else to do. I had a writing assignment to hand in, and I didn’t have it finished. That’s never happened before. I have an image to maintain, you know.
WINKLER: Even if it means stealing other people’s work?
MANDY JO: I’d feel like an idiot if I admitted I couldn’t handle it. Do you know what I had to go through to get into this class? I’m supposed to be a writer. Whoever heard of a writer who can’t finish her assignment on time?
BETH: You told me you create works of fiction at the drop of a hat. Writing is like breathing to you. You can do it in your sleep. I’ve struggled for six weeks to come up with that story and you steal it from me!
MANDY JO: (Turning to watch BETH pace.)
You were never supposed to know about it. It wasn’t going to hurt anything.
BETH: Wasn’t going to hurt anything? Mandy Jo, it hurt me!
MANDY JO: I’m sorry.
WINKLER: I’m afraid that’s not going to cut it, Mandy Jo. You committed plagiarism.
MANDY JO: (Turns back to WINKLER quickly.) What?
WINKLER: You knowingly took another person’s work without her permission and passed it off as your own. That’s a serious offense, and I’m going to have to call the office of Judicial Affairs.
MANDY JO: No!
BETH: What happens then?
WINKLER: (Sighs.) Mandy Jo faces expulsion if the board decides against her. Even if the board favors her in the decision, I’m still going to have to give her an “F” for my course.
(MANDY JO jumps to her feet. Tears start to her eyes.)
MANDY JO: No...please...no. I’m sorry...I’m so sorry. Can’t we just forget about it?
WINKLER: I’m sorry. No.
MANDY JO: Oh come on, it’s not like I took it from a book or online. It’s just Beth’s notebook. It’s not that important.
BETH: Hey!
WINKLER: It’s still considered plagiarism. You took another’s idea and represented it as your own. I’m sorry, Mandy Jo, but you’ll have to face the consequences. (More kindly in the face of MANDY JO’s tears.) The board might take the fact that you’re a freshman and this is your first offense into their decision. I’ll recommend leniency.
MANDY JO: (Brokenly.) How long before I find out?
WINKLER: I will call you as soon as I know. Go home, Mandy Jo, and try not to worry. I’ll call you.
(MANDY JO and BETH start towards the door. Once in the hallway, BETH turns to walk in the opposite direction as MANDY JO.)
MANDY JO: Where are you going?
BETH: I can’t live with someone I can’t trust.
MANDY JO: I said I was sorry.
BETH: I’ll spend tonight with Adam and tomorrow I’m going to talk to the Housing Office. I’ll be back later for my stuff.
MANDY JO: Beth--
BETH: Know what else I’m going to do?
(MANDY JO shakes her head.)
Change my major to English.
(BETH exits. MANDY JO stands staring after her for a moment before slowly walking back to their room. She stands in the middle of the room and takes a long look around. She slowly removes her hat and lays it on BETH’s desk and lays the quill pen across it.)
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