Scene One: A dark bedroom, with only the light from a computer on. A teenage girl named Christina sits there in her pajamas and her hair tied back, writing in her LiveJournal.

Christina: Today really sucked; I went to the counselor today, and I told her about Mom and Dad divorcing. She said that was normal for parents to do that. In fact, many marriages do end in divorce nowadays, and there are lots of kids who have divorced parents. That doesn’t comfort me at all. Being normal doesn’t help me feel any better…I don’t care about normality in the least. But what bothers me is that they split up because they stopped loving each other. So what happens if they stop loving me?

Scene Two: Two months later, it is a sunny day in Robertville, Virginia. Christina walks off the bus) coming home with a boy (Tris) and another girl (Ro).

Ro: God damn it, I hate geometry.

Tris: Don’t we all.

Ro: The three of them stop walking as Ro turns on Tris. Shut up, Tris. You’re already taking Algebra 2. You don’t get to talk about how you don’t have to deal with freakin’ geometry and freakin’ Mrs. Harrol and freakin’—

Christina: Ro, give it a rest.

Ro: But—

Christina: Just chill. It’s geometry, it doesn’t matter, go to hell. They start walking again, Christina walking ahead of the rest of them. Tris catches up to her as Ro walks into her house.

Tris: Look, Christina, I know about what happened between you and Kevin…he’s not worth acting like you’re having your period two weeks early.

Christina: Scowls. And how would you know when my period is?

Tris: You know that’s not the point. You guys didn’t talk anyway. All you did was make out until you couldn’t feel your tongues. Christina’s eyes narrow and she walks away quickly. Tris runs after her, catches up quickly, and takes her by the shoulders. Christina, listen.

Christina: No.

Tris: Christina.

Christina: Fuck you.

Tris: Tightens grip on her shoulders. Listen, Christina. You know as well as I do that that relationship was worthless. He was coming off a pot problem, you were coming off your parents’ divorce. You automatically looked for someone who could hold you and try to make you feel better, and he was looking for someone that could give his tongue a workout and would allow him to go under some shirt.

Christina: Squirms under Tris’s grip. He doesn’t let go. Let go of me, Tris. I don’t want to put up with your—

Tris: Truth? Come on, Chris, you knew the whole time that the relationship was a way for you to get rid of your pain.

Christina: Don’t give me any crap about telling me how to get rid of my pain.

Tris: Why shouldn’t I? I’m right.

Christina: You’re a cutter! You take out your razor every night and slice your leg to—

Tris: Lets go of her shoulders. Used to cut, not anymore.

Christina: Do you think I believe a word of that? I know perfectly well what you do before you go to bed. You never stopped, Tris. Never. Not even while you went to that counselor. We were worried as hell about you, man, and all you did was go into the bathroom with a straight face, pull your pants down and carve your broken hearts into your leg! It’s like everything we said didn’t matter to you. You stopped caring, and we tried our best for nothing. Look at me, you self-righteous bastard. There are better ways than making yourself bleed to get rid of pain, even if it’s just the wrong way in your mind. Christina starts to walk away, but then turns around and says sarcastically, By the way, Tris, it’s probably about a week and a half until “my time of the month.” Gives him an angelic smile followed by the middle finger and she walks home haughtily.

Tris: I’ll be sure to file that little piece of information away. He too, walks home, thoroughly rattled.

Scene Three: Christina stomps through the door of her house. Her mother is sitting in the living room, which is about fifteen paces from the front door. She’s reading a magazine.

Ms. Greenwell: Hello, Christina dear.

Christina: Sets her backpack down on the kitchen table. Replies in a frustrated voice. Hi.

Ms. Greenwell: How was school?

Christina: Looks up. Her back is to her mother, so she can’t see the anguished expression on her face. It was fine.

Ms. Greenwell: Pauses. Did you get your math test back today?

Christina: Yeah.

Ms. Greenwell: And?

Christina: Grimaces. Eighty-four.

Ms. Greenwell: Sighs and gets up from the couch, carrying her magazine and saving her place with her finger. She walks over to Christina, pulls out her binder, and finds the test. What happened? Didn’t you say you knew what you were doing?

Christina: I did. They were just stupid mistakes, that’s all.

Ms. Greenwell: So you didn’t check it.

Christina: Agitated voice comes back. I didn’t have time to, Mom! Starts speaking very quickly. There was this one word problem, and it took me forever, and everything else I knew, but I just screwed up on the little things, like on one problem I said six plus three was eight, that kind of thing, you know?

Ms. Greenwell: You usually get nineties in math. Your last three scores have been in the low eighties. And there was that one in the seventies with the quadratic formula…it’s simple if you know the formula, and you knew it. I just don’t understand how a student who gets A’s in that class normally can suddenly start slipping. Shrugs. If this keeps up, we might need to get you a tutor.

Christina: Sarcastically. You don’t think you and Dad splitting up has an effect on my grades at all? The only grades of mine that have stayed the same are the ones in creative writing, and Mr. Samuels wants to know why my writing suddenly got morbid. Come on, Mom. You’re trying to weasel out of this one like you’ve weaseled out of all the rest.

Ms. Greenwell: And you’re trying to avoid responsibility. It’s been two months—

Christina: Two months of perfect hell for me, Mom. That quiz on the quadratic formula was taken three days after you two split up.

Ms. Greenwell: You don’t think this has any effect on me? You don’t think losing a husband and a friend is enough to make me unhappy?

Christina: But you don’t love him anymore, Mom! She begins to choke up. Tears are forming. You don’t, you told me you didn’t. And he said he didn’t love you anymore. But I still love him, Mom! That’s what you don’t get! That’s what you don’t understand. And it’s killing me inside! I don’t know what goes on with you, but...Christina cannot finish her sentence. She runs off to her room, and sobs hysterically into a pillow. Her mother follows her after a few moments and tries to put a hand on her shoulder, but Christina tears it off. Her mother leaves..

Scene Four: Same as Scene One

Christina: Another one of those days that just makes me want to go off and pull a Tris. I got in an argument with him and my mom today within about five minutes of each other. I don’t hate either one of them, but this business with Dad is just making me so pissy. I’m not really sure how much longer I can carry on having these fights with everyone, especially the people that I can’t stand to lose.

Scene Five: Hallway of Christina’s and Tris’s and Ro’s school. Christina and Tris are talking.

Tris: I read your latest LiveJournal entry.

Christina: Since when do you read my LJ?

Tris: Don’t call it that, dear heart. It sounds dumb, and LiveJournal is only one more syllable.

Christina: Whatever.

Tris: At any rate, I’ve been reading it ever since you made it.

Christina: Oh boy, my own personal Internet stalker.

Tris: Slight smile. Ha. But you like me better than you like some random Internet stalker, don’t you?

Christina: She smiles too. I dunno, Tris…at least I wouldn’t have to look at my Internet stalker.

Tris: Covers up hurt feelings with sarcasm. Ooh, that one hurt. It will now take me thirty-two hours to reassess my life…

Christina: Laughs, and then stops to get a drink a water fountain. Tris stops to wait for her. So how long until the bell rings?

Tris: We’ve got lunch next. Nobody cares if we’re late for lunch

Christina: Like hell.

Tris: Ok, so if you show up five minutes late they wonder what you’ve been doing, but we can be a couple minutes late. Why do you ask?

Christina: No reason. I just like to spend quality time with my best friend Tris Hartworth.

Tris: Kay. Whatever you like.

Christina: I really am sorry about that fight, Tris.

Tris: Me too. Maybe you were right about ways to let go of pain, but…Christina gets up from the water fountain and looks at him intently. Umm. Yeah…well, we should probably go to lunch or—

Christina: I’m not worried about being late, Tris…snakes arms around his waist, holding him closer. Before he can say anything, she kisses him on the mouth and runs off.

Scene Six: Tris sitting at his lunch table with his friend Greg.

Greg: So she kissed you.

Tris: Takes a bite out of his sandwich to stall. Yeah.

Greg: Why didn’t you ask her out or something? She wouldn’t kiss unless she liked you.

Tris: Because I don’t like her, how’s that? Greg opens mouth to say something, but Tris holds up a finger. Or…or maybe, she’s just feeling flirty today. I dunno. I just know she doesn’t.

Greg: Stupid sack of stupid.

Tris: Don’t go off and use my insults against me.

Greg: I don’t know why I did, they all suck really bad.

Tris: Just forget about it…it doesn’t really matter. Takes a long draught from his cafeteria chocolate milk.

Greg: Oh no. I’ve seen that look before.

Tris: Gives Greg a funny glance. What look.

Greg: The one that says, “I know perfectly well that I’m lying through my teeth right now.” You know she likes you. You like her too.

Tris:Do not.

Greg: You responded too quickly, dude. As embarrassed teenagers are so wont to do. Tris takes another sip from his milk.

Tris: Only a little.

Greg: Aiight man. I’m not as smart as you are, I’m not taking four AP classes—

Tris: Three. English, History, and Bio. Get it right.

Greg: Whatever. I isn’t smart like you am, dude, but I know one thing, and the two of you are going to go out and get married and have millions of cute little kids.

Tris: We aren’t rodents, Greg.

Greg: See, that AP science is good for you. It teach you all that merda, right?

Tris: Merda?

Greg: I think it’s Portugese or Italian for ‘shit.’ Whatever. You got what I meant, right?

Tris: Mm-hmm. All sorts of things I miss by taking French. Greg opens his mouth, but Tris cuts hm off. Yes, Honors.

Greg: They don’t offer AP, do they?

Tris: Nope.

Greg: Figured. Anyway, ask her out.

Tris: Crazy kid.

Greg: I still don’t get why you won’t.

Tris: I don’t like her…

Greg: Bullshit.

Tris: …And she doesn’t like me…

Greg: Bullshit squared.

Tris: …And we’re best friends, so we couldn’t go out if we wanted to keep our friendship intact after we broke up.

Greg: Screw friendship. Kevin Burr wouldn’t have gone out with her for close to two months if she wasn’t a great kisser.

Tris: Greg.

Greg: Yeah Tris.

Tris: I’m going to steal a couple of lines from J.K. Rowling here… “You’re about as sensitive as a blunt axe.”

Greg: Ouch.

Tris: No, I’m not finished yet. “You are the most insensitive wart I’ve ever had the misfortune to meet.”

Greg: Mock pout. That’s it, I’m leaving. I won’t take any more of your gratuitous cruelty. Go find some new friends that you can abuse.

Tris: Or ones that I can make out with without having to worry about losing the friendship?

Greg: That’s it exactly. Just make sure they’re girls. And preferably hot.

Tris: Would they come any other way?

Scene Seven: Christina and Ro are getting off the bus.

Christina: Where’s Tris?

Ro: Baseball. He’s got a game at Grant.

Christina: Oh.

Ro: Why do you ask? Christina says nothing. Ok, fine, be that way. They walk in silence for a few moments.

Christina: I think I like Tris.

Ro: After that big row you had with him yesterday? And after only being removed from Kevin two days? Come on, Chris. You’re fooling yourself to be in love.

Christina: Maybe I am. Maybe I’m not.

Ro: No maybe’s about it, girl. You’ve just been involved with someone long enough that you need your daily fix. Anyway, Tris is the wrong guy for you.

Christina: And how would you know?

Ro: Look, the two of you are best friends. He’s a smart guy…he knows that if he asks you out, you’ll lose that friendship. Wake up and smell the roses. You don’t like him.

Christina: I dunno…but…just…gah.

Ro: Let it out.

Christina: When he took me by the shoulders yesterday…it felt like I was safe. His big blue eyes just pleading with me and I knew that he wouldn’t let anything hurt me…No one’s done that since my dad left. And—

Ro: I understand.

Christina: You know how it is, Ro…just this feeling that he won’t let anything happen to me…

Ro: Awww. That’s so sweet.

Christina: You’re such a teenage girl.

Ro: So what does that make you? Ro laughs. So how much have you led him on.

Christina: You’ll hate me if I tell you.

Ro: Probably. Tell me anyway. It’s for your own good.

Christina: Blushes. I kissed him before lunch today.

Ro: What?! Christina, you’re impossible! So you thought you liked him and you kissed him! And now you don’t? You’re crazy. You crazy in de head.

Christina: It wasn’t my fault!

Ro: Of course it was your fault. You did it.

Christina: Shut up.

Ro: That was really stupid…why’d you do that?

Christina: I dunno…we were alone in the halls, it was a romantic moment.

Ro: Almost as romantic as making out with Kevin behind that dumpster, no doubt.

Christina: I hate you.

Ro: I don’t know what I’m going to do with you, Christina, I just don’t.

Scene Eight: Evening. Christina and Tris are walking together.

Christina: So how was your game?

Tris: Not so hot…we lost 6-5.

Christina: That sucks. What happened?

Tris: Coach put Robby in to pitch, and he let up five runs in the first two innings.

Christina: That sucks.

Tris: Yeah. He took him out in the third and put J.P. in, but it was too late…he came in with the bases loaded and walked one kid, and then got a double play to finish the inning…

Christina: I see.

Tris: I’m boring you, no doubt.

Christina: Let’s just say Smiles mischeviously that I wish I hadn’t asked you about your game.

Tris: Fine. So what did you do after to school today?

Christina: I went back to our elementary school. Walked around the school and pointed out old teacher’s rooms and talked to myself.

Tris: Talked to yourself?

Christina: Yeah…like, I was walking down to the playground from the entrance, and I’m like, “We talked excitedly amongst ourselves until we reached the edge of the pavement; the teachers stopped us there, and then said we could go…we ran then, throwing our lunchboxes aside as we went, yelling and screaming like we had never been outside before and the experience was too thrilling for real and coherent words…”

Tris: That summed us up, all right.

Christina: Chuckles. Yeah. Just a bunch of wild animals.

Tris: That’s all children are, right?

Christina: I guess so. The best part was that I got all depressed reminiscing…I mean, we’re high schoolers…how long has it been since we had recess? But anyway, I had this half pissed half sad look on my face, and some college students drive by. So they drive past, and one of them is waggling his middle finger at me. So the look gets more pissed.

Tris: This doesn’t look like it’s got a happy ending, but you don’t show any signs of physical injury. At least, I don’t think you do…it’s too dark to really tell.

Christina: Ignores Tris’s comment. Anyway, the driver immediately puts the car in reverse, and says to me, “What the fuck was that hard-ass look for?”

Tris: Definitely not a happy ending.

Christina: So I said, “Just leave me alone.” They left. I was kind of rattled, though…I was afraid they might beat me up or something.

Tris: Hooray for Christina, she who—

Christina: Shut up.

Tris: Sorry.

Christina: So how much have I been leading you on?

Tris: Mmm…a lot.

Christina: I really don’t like you…I needed some help from Ro to figure it out, but I don’t. Tris stops and turns around, walking home. Oh no. Come back,Tris, please. Tris says nothing. He continues to walk away. Christina runs to catch up with him.

Tris: Get behind me, Satan.

Christina: I’ve always wondered why Jesus said that…if I were in that situation, with Satan behind me, I’d get kind of creeped out…I’d like him in front of me to see what he was doing.

Tris: You know that’s not the point.

Christina: Look, I’m really sorry…I just didn’t think it through.

Tris: That much is obvious to me.

Christina: An expression of sudden understanding comes across her face. Tris…Tris, you didn’t like me, did you?

Tris: Turns around, his eyes filled with tears. Says sarcastically, Gaze deep into my eyes and ye shall see the truth for which thou hath sought after.

Christina: Oh, Tris…I’m so sorry. I’m not right for you at all, it was sweet of you to like me, but…oh my God, I feel so bad.

Tris: That’s funny; so do I.

Christina: Will we ever get back to the same level of intimacy that we had before, Tris? Will we ever be friends like we used to?

Tris: Rueful smile. This isn’t a B-movie, Christina. This isn’t a bad novel. This script that we’re acting out could end like a fairy tale; “and they lived happily ever after.” But I’m putting my money down that I’m not a fairy tale—I’m a Russian drama; the long-depressed main character kills himself in the end.

Christina: NO! Tris! Clings to his arm.

Tris: Shakes her off and runs away, shouting, And that’s why I’m hurrying home, love…tonight was the final scene…there’s only so much time until the bang and the curtain falls on this unfortunate and poorly done performance! God defend the right!

Christina: No, Tris, wait, don’t do it…it’s not that bad. Mutters to herself. If he kills himself, it’s all my fault.

Scene Nine: Tris is home and is digging frantically under his pillow to find his cutting razor.

Tris: Dammit, gotta find it fast…come on, come on, where is the bloody razor? Ha, that was funny. Black humor. There is a knock on the door and he can hear his mother going to answer it. Damn!

Mrs. Hartworth: In a frantically worried tone of voice. Tris? Tris, where are you? Answer me!

Christina: Tris, don’t do it! Mrs. Hartworth and Christina run to Tris’s room and find the door locked.

Mrs. Hartworth: Tris, if you love your mother you will open this door!

Christina: Come out Tris, come out alive, come on, come on, open the door! There are screams of pain and a dripping sound for half a minute or so, punctuated by pleading and cries from Mrs. Hartworth and Christina. Finally, Tris unlocks the door and collapses in his mother’s arms, almost dead, with huge bleeding cuts and gashes up and down his arms and neck.

Christina/Mrs. Hartworth: NOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOO Tris! No, no no no nonononono!

Tris: In a whisper. It’s not your fault, Christina…I’ve had this planned a long time. Oh! Oh, it’s over. The Russian drama—his head goes lopsided and he stops talking; he has died. Mrs. Hartworth continues to cry and hold her son. Christina goes into the room and slips on the bloodstained floor on the way to Tris’s night table. She takes the framed photograph showing the two of them and throws it across the room, slumps down on Tris’s bed, and sobs.

End.