"central nervous system"
based on candles by daughter
ACT I: SEE
"well i have brittle bones it seems, i bite my tongue and torch my dreams"
(it begins with charlie: the typical boy-next-door complete with a near-permanent bedhead, a smile that leans too heavily to the right, and a simple white tee. he sits in a classroom. he scrawls in his notebook. occasionally, he scratches his head with the end of his pen. very typical.
his eyes move from the clock and back, from the clock and back, forth and back - in that order. why?: he's late. or rather, he's griping about his inevitable late-to-every-fucking-thing-ness.
every day of every week, month and year, something's gone wrong for him. today just happens to be the day that his tires are stolen — a thing that may or may not happen when you live in the world's shittiest apartment complex — and after missing the bus and being forced to commute by skateboard, he arrives half an hour late to first period. mr. morrison, of course, doesn't give a shit about how much of a tragedy on legs charlie is and gives him a lunch detention.
but out of all one hundred eighty days in the school year, today also has to be the day that chalupas are being served in the cafeteria and the day he's missed breakfast.
his life was very recurrent of the double whammy.
mr. morrison's goatee — very appropriate for a high school art teacher — bobs as he takes a giant bite out of his sandwich. almost mockingly, he looks at charlie and jerks his thumb towards the door. mentally thanking the lord, charlie runs out of the room.
with his mind on chalupas, charlie runs down the hall with the grace of an wounded elephant. he's getting close, blatantly obvious as the sounds of lunchtime chatter increase and the warm aroma of spiced meat greets him. thinking he'll make it there before the bell, he runs: fast.
meanwhile:
el carries a coffee in one hand and a handful of books in the other. nodding goodbye to mrs. rushlow, she leaves the school library contently with her new check-outs.
it just so happens that the library is right next to the lunchroom, and with el going towards the s wing, this sets her for a collision course with charlie.
[funny, how these things work out.]
as el reaches the corner, charlie runs — literally — into her. coffee and books splatter everywhere.)
charlie: (shrieking in the least manly way possible.) christ, why is that so cold? (yanks off his stained sweatshirt.) who the hell drinks iced coffee in january?
el: i do! (bends down to pick up her books.) and are we not going to adknowledge that you kind of assulted me in the middle of the hallway?
charlie: right, right. my bad. (picks up her now empty cup from the ground and the nearby lid.) shit, i'm sorry.
el: it's fine. (glares at the coffee stain now housing itself on her shirt.) god. this was new.
charlie: hey, i'm really sorry-
el: (stops him midsentence) don't worry about it. (starts walking down the hall with a flustered look on her face.)
charlie: (calls after her) hey, uh, i'm charlie by the way! i'll see you around.
(el is walking to school, her hands in her pockets salvaging warmt. new fallen snow crunches under her feet and she hates it — winter in particular. she's really a summer person. trust her on that. summer means no school and no work and no ex-boyfriends and no stupid boys spilling coffee all over you at twelve fucking pm.
a boy in a dark jacket comes up beside her, his hands tucked in his pockets and his head slightly lowered. he's fairly shy, waiting a few seconds before looking up. great. fucking great.)
charlie: hey. it's ellen, right?
el: oh, hey. (pulls out her earbuds) coffee kid. just call me el. your name?
charlie: charlie. sorry for running into you the other day.
el: it wasn't a big deal, don't worry.
charlie: oh okay. cool.
(charlie and el walk in silence, their feet simultaneously step-crunch-step-crunching against the snow.)
