Response to Brett Kavanaugh’s Yearbook. The First Eff.

THE FOUR EFFS

I walk into a classroom. There is no teacher present. Across the blackboard in large chalk letters are the words:
Name the Four F’s.

Everyone else is already seated; paper and pencil poised.

I am confused. Did I forget to study for this quiz? And what subject is this?
A geography question? (I can’t get beyond Finland, France… Fiji…)

Language arts? (All I can think of is the word infinitive.)

Then I noticed that all the boys are laughing and poking each other in the ribs. Jean-Marie Agnold gets up–except now she’s Connie Francis– and erases the board.
The boys throw pencils at her. She hides under the teacher’s desk.

I look at the boys and think “Ffffffff…..Fart!”

At the count of three, all the boys grab a girl.
Walter Donovan grabs my arm because he gave me his lucky rabbit foot two weeks ago and so considers me his girlfriend. All the boys laugh as they try to whisper the answer to the Girl of their Choice
They end up yelling:

“Find ‘em. Feel ‘em. Fuck ‘em. Forget ‘em.” I run home.

Home is a long way away and as I run, I notice Walter Donovan running after me.

No one is on the street And it is suddenly night.

Roots on the path trip me.

I get up and run with Walter on my heels Making “eff” sounds with his mouth.

I make it to the house, slam the door
And scramble up the stairs to our second floor apartment. I run into the kitchen out of breath and begin pulling down all the window shades. My mother is washing dishes and notices Walter outside
Staring up at her.

“Oh, look, “ she says, “Walter Donovan. “Why don’t you ask him in?”

© The First Eff,  a stage play,  by Donna Di Novelli