Scene 1: 74th Street

Ethan Carey

"I am an enemy of the state as far as my family is concerned. Isn't that punishment enough?" I argued.

"Community service is hardly a punishment," Kevin, the lawyer, replied.

He made sure nothing with my name on it was ever viable pieces of evidence.

"You're right, this is practically a carnival."

"Don't you want to help your father? It is your crime."

"I'd rather pick up trash on the highway."

The issue with my father's kidney keeping him indisposed and the technicalities of my being the guilty party is leading me to have to take accountability and serve my time.

To children...

"This is Ethan," he announced.

"Hi, Ethan," three boys responded.

"I thought mentorship programs only forced one kid on you. What, am I teaching the class?" I whispered harshly.

"Help them with their homework and answer their questions with optimism, not pessimism. I'll be handling the busy work with your guardians and will be back in an hour."

"Is it true what you did?" One of them asked, his name tag read 'Corey.' "You worked at a strip club?"

Optimism, you say?

"It was more than that...but yes," I said, slyly.

"What was it like?"

"I don't think I should be telling you this...so use your imagination."

''Daryl' gasped, "Did you get to date them?"

"I did date one, actually."

"Just one?" His excitement diminished.

I narrowed my eyes. "You shouldn't have relations with employees."

"Do you get a lot of girls?" The last one, 'Eric,' asked. I deemed him the quiet kid which would subsequently be my favorite to deal with.

"I do pretty well for myself."

"How?"

I chuckled. "Are you trying to get girlfriends?"

"There are no girls at our school. Their school is across from us and we only get to talk to them before and after the bell rings," Corey explained their unfortunate circumstances.

"He has a crush on Christina Emmy, so he doesn't talk to her at all," Daryl teased.

"Shut up, she's an 8th grader."

"Oh, no," I said, sarcastically.

"She wouldn't make a 7th grader her boyfriend."

"It doesn't matter what grade you're in. The key is to act older than you are, hell, act older than she is. Women are more attracted to how you conduct yourself than they are to your face, height, or even age."

"So, we should act like someone else?" My good friend, Eric, inquired.

"Don't try to emanate some actor you saw in a movie or a musician who's putting on a front. Be a mature version of yourself or she'll see right through you," I warned.

"Okay," he replied, and I watched him slowly copy my demeanor.

Interesting.

"I see a potential business deal here..."

"With us?" Corey asked.

"When they ask, say you couldn't have wished for a better mentor. Tell them about homework and tossing a ball around, whatever they need to hear. In return, I'll tell you everything you want to know about anything."

"Anything?"

"How to get the girl, manipulate your parents, invest in stocks— I'll have to set a line somewhere, but yes." I shrugged. "I do have to test you first, however."

"How?" Eric's eyebrows drew together.

"Why don't I give you guys a secret mission?"

"...what mission?"

"I need my birth certificate, but I don't need my parents knowing why. It's bound to be in a file cabinet in my father's office. Go and get it for me. It'll be fun, you'll be like...ninjas."

Corey shook his head. "We're not 5, what's in it for us?"

Smart kid.

"One shot of bourbon," I replied, and their faces lit up. "It's also in the office."

"Two."

"One and a half."

"Deal," he smiled.

"Why can't you get it yourself?" Daryl raked over me with suspicion.

"I'm no longer allowed in my father's office." He locks up before bed or if he's going to be away. If he catches me, God knows what'll happen— but these boys? Innocent.

"What does it look like?"

"It'll have my name and my parents' name and say...oh, right, Certification of Birth."

"We'll find it, but if we're not back in five minutes...it's going to take more than two shots for us not to tell on you."

"One and a half," I corrected as if they weren't already out of the room.

For twice a week, it'll be as if I have an assistant again...3 assistants.

If it were them working for me in the first place, my father wouldn't be on house arrest and I'd still have a palace to go to.

I paced around the room awaiting their return. They brought textbooks here assuming I would be helping them with their studies. I aced algebra, and if they continue to make me proud, I'll make sure they do too. I already have the answers.

"Hey, we found something," Corey said, out of breath, "it has your name but your parents' names are different."

"What?" I took the certificate from him and ignored the sight of Daryl carrying the entire decanter of liquor.

Ethan Murphy

That is not my name.

Place of birth: New York City Borough of Queens

Queens?

Mother: Anna Murphy

Father: Donovan Baxter

Who the hell are these people?

The only thing correct on here is my date of birth.

A gagging cough came from one of the boys. "This is terrible!"

"...I know."

Scene 2: Madison Street (Zach's Apartment)

Zach Teeling

Oliver walked up the stairs to meet me in front of my door.

"Evan is here." I gave him some lame excuse about checking the mail before I walked out.

Oliver opened the door a little to see inside, Evan is on the phone and not paying attention to us staring in.

The door closes again and he looks at me gratefully. "Thank you."

"He's not here for you," I scoffed. "He hasn't told me why, but he's been living out of his car. I asked him to stay with me instead."

"What a great idea," he mocked.

"It's not that big of a deal."

"Sharing a room with your hot ex?"

"My good friend."

"You're not friends."

I shrugged. "Even better."

"There's no way this is going to work out. You like him too much."

"That's out of my system."

"Until he's undressed and right in your face or one of you gets the bright idea to wrestle around or he needs you to bring him a towel or-"

"These are your fantasies."

"I know." Oliver sighed until his frown was replaced with a smile. "Let's go play with him."

"Don't make him feel weird about being here," I said as I cautiously let him in.

"I can't make him feel any weirder than you do."

Evan hangs the phone up as we enter the living room. "Hey," he said, awkwardly.

"Oliver," he held his hand out, and Evan grabbed it.

"Lucas' brother, right?"

"You know him, of course." Oliver rolled his eyes. "He reels in so many guys and doesn't even want them."

"More for you, then," I taunted.

"Just be happy I kept you, babe."

Evan furrowed his eyebrows and pointed. "You two..."

"No."

"Not really." Oliver winked. "You know how it goes."

Evan laughed a bit. "Hm."

"It really didn't go," I said while looking suspiciously at Oliver.

"We both prefer baseball players and football players and— what else do you do? Basketball? Soccer?"

Evan smirked. "Just the first two."

Oliver nodded in satisfaction. "Amazing."

I shook my head. "Are you done?"

"So, what's up with this roommate situation? Previous arrangements not as fun?"

"My aunt..." Evan kept his head down as he spoke, "she lost her job and couldn't make rent anymore."

"Oh..."

"She wouldn't have left you out on the street..." I said in disbelief.

"No, I'm supposed to be in Oklahoma with my mom."

"Oklahoma..." Yikes. "still better than your car."

"Yeah, not really," Evan sighed.

"What's wrong with it?"

Oliver snickered as if I were joking. "Let's just say you won't find any Elton John fans over there."

Oh, no...

He would have to revert back to his cheerleader dating, Aimee kissing, "what's up, Andrews," chicks are hot, not guys, self.

"Is that what you're worried about?"

"It's more than that...my mom's never really been there for me. That's why I moved in with my aunt in the first place," he confessed.

"So you were going to live in your car until graduation or what?" Oliver asked.

"My aunt said once she got settled and got a job that paid well again, she'd send for me."

Do you get mail service to your Ford?

"She thinks you're with your mom, doesn't she?"

"Yeah," Evan admitted. "They haven't spoken in years, and every day I call her from a pay phone and tell her I'm alright."

"You can tell her you're staying with a friend now," I said assuringly, but Evan didn't seem like he agreed. "You wanna carry your clothes in your book bag forever?"

"Forevers a long time," Oliver added.

"But that's okay," He looks at me. "If you need to stay that long."

Scene 3: Lickster Records

Matt Jensen

"Alright, you have 1 minute. Pick three albums you'd take with you to a deserted island." Elle turned the dial on the timer.

We rushed into the aisles, scanning the shelves for the right artists.

"Rage Against the Machine, Gwar, and...Black Sabbath." Or should I get Bad Brains? Or Metallica?

Fuck, this is harder than I thought.

The timer is ticking, and Leo hasn't grabbed anything yet.

"Tick tock," Elle urged.

"Okay, okay. Dirt." He waved the Alice In Chains album in the air.

"Depressing."

"Doolittle..." Leo continued with Pixies.

"Be real with yourself and grab that Aerosmith album," she teased.

"The Rolling Stones," he chose instead.

"Are you sure?" Elle asked us both, looking at our selections.

"Nope," I answered.                  "No," He scoffed.

"My turn."

"She had more time to think," Leo complained.

"Enough to know you shouldn't bring just one genre."

"Same genre but different sounds," I defended.

"It's the same sound. Noise." Elle stuck her tongue out at me, and then handed Leo one of her choices. "American Thighs."

"Veruca Salt. This isn't even good noise," he argued.

She gave him her second one. "Lion and the Cobra."

He nodded. "Sinéad O' Connor."

"Butterfly." She said, lastly, holding it in her hand. Leo hesitated. It was a split second, but we all caught it, a visible stutter like something was triggered. "You hate Mariah Carey?"

"No, good choice." He put her stack of albums next to ours on the counter.

"If I sounded like her, I would never shut up."

I smirked. "You already don't shut up."

"This is coming from the guy blasting metal at 9 A.M. on the weekend shifts?"

"Makes Sundays feel good."

"Moshing with the customers?" She said, skeptically.

"Yes!"

She looked to Leo for a response and he chuckled. "Can't argue with that."

"Is that how it's going to be having you both working here?"

"You're going for a job?" I asked, kinda solemnly.

"I dunno. Maybe."

"So you guys can hook up in the back while I'm working the register?"

"You'll have control of the music," Elle smiled.

"Great." I rolled my eyes.

"I'd rather work somewhere closer to school. A video store or something I can go to right after, they'll pay more up there."

Elle's face scrunched. "Ew, you wanna rent movies out to rich people?"

"Whatever keeps money in my pocket."

"Excuse me, burnout, can you show me where you keep the artsy foreign films so I can watch them and brag about how I understand things on a deeper level when I really didn't get shit from the movie?"

"Right this way, ma'am," he replied. "But some of them do like good movies, the ones that make us look like clichés for watching them."

"Oh, yeah? Who?"

He shook his head like he didn't have an answer in mind. "I just meant in general."

"Well, generally," Elle stepped up to Leo, "they better not take up too much of your time."

He smirked at her and it didn't take long for them to start kissing.

I cringed. "Yuck, stop." 

Elle turned her head toward me. "I won't complain when you're kissing Claudia."

"What? Why would I do that?" I questioned. "Claudia likes me?"

"She said you were cute."

Leo scoffed and laughed. "She said Danny was too...and Jordan, and AJ, and Frankie and-"

"What are you trying to say?" Elle put her hands on her hips.

"Matt is into someone already. That's better than chasing after Claudia when she's not all that serious about him."

"Who?" Elle asked.

"He won't tell."

"Why not?"

I kept my head down. "It's not a big deal."

"Then why won't you tell?"

Scene 4: The Helmsley Hotel

Heather Blakely

"Hello?"

"Uh— hey, you busy?" Danny stood at my door, his hands stuffed in his pockets.

"No...why?"

"Can I still...do that wellness thing?"

"Sure," I nod, trying not to seem surprised or too eager.

"How soon?"

"We can go whenever you're ready."

"Now?"

"Okay." I leave the door open for him to come in while I grab a jacket out of the coat closet. "Did you drive?"

"No...I won't have my van for a while."

"That's fine, we can take a taxi. The re-" I pause, awkwardly before clearing my throat, "wellness center isn't far from here."

He nodded and I motioned for him to follow me to the elevator.

We stayed quiet as we waited for it to come, and remained quiet as we descended the floors.

Danny has never been one to talk to me, even before he started to dislike me...though, I'm sure he's always disliked me.

"Discretion, right?" He asked.

"Yes, there has to be a signed release form for anyone else to be told."

"Discretion with you too?"

"Who would I tell?"

Danny doesn't relax at that thought.

"I don't want him to know. He'll..."

"Dedicate his life to trying to save you from yourself?"

"Exactly."

"I promise." I hold my pinky out, and he just stares at it.

"Are you serious?"

"Yes..."

He sighed and wrapped his pinky around mine before putting his hands in his pockets again.

No one in the lobby takes notice of the "strange" company that I keep anymore. They were more concerned when the visits stopped.

Someone is getting out of a cab in front of the building, and I make sure we're the first ones to it so I don't have to hail another.

"Bedell Rehabilitation Center," I said while getting into the back of the car.

The driver nods and waits for the other door to shut...but Danny isn't in yet.

He's anxiously tapping on the roof and gazing off toward somewhere else...toward the subway.

"In or out, guy, I ain't got all night," the man complained.

And to my relief, Danny climbed in.

We won't be in the clear until he's face to face with a doctor, will we?

Being on our way means nothing, and it doesn't help that stress is contagious.

He is biting the nail of his thumb and staring out of the window. His leg is bouncing and every so often, I hear him let out a deep sigh.

I'm glad we're already in the cab but he looks as if he has changed his mind and will run off when the taxi stops.

"They say the hardest part is going," I mention, quietly.

"They are lying," he replied, not facing me at any point during the ride.

Luckily, it is a short drive over, six minutes at the most. Danny held an irritated expression on his face when I promptly paid the driver instead of waiting for him to fish cash out of his pocket.

It doesn't look like a hospital. Once you walk in, there is a welcoming atmosphere you don't often find in these settings. There are no fluorescent lights or hard chairs to wait in. It's warm with cozy furniture and flowers to put visitors at ease.

But Danny is not at ease.

"Hello, I would like to check someone into the outpatient program," I said to the receptionist.

"Yes, please fill out the paperwork, and we will get you a room," she handed me a clipboard that I then passed to Danny.

"What happens after?" He mumbled.

"You will start a detox through an IV."

"...alright."

"Am I allowed to stay with him?" I asked.

"Yes."

"Do you want me to?" I said to him.

He slightly glanced over at me and shrugged while nodding.

The receptionist suggested we take a seat while he wrote down his information. It was all straightforward.

Daniel L. Cole

06/29/1979

Opioids

He paused at the emergency contact section.
I was afraid he might skip it altogether, but eventually, he put the pen to paper and wrote "Isabel Rylin."

Danny handed me the clipboard when everything was filled out except for the guarantor information.

"What made you change your mind about..." I spoke hesitantly, keeping my eyes on what I was writing to avoid uncomfortable glances.

"Rehab?" Danny said. "I got into some trouble last night. It made me think."

"With your van?"

"Yeah, took some pills and crashed it with Amanda in the passenger seat."

I looked up quickly. "Is she okay?"

"She's not hurt, but she hates me." He let out a breath. "The only reason we were out there is because she called me for help. And she couldn't even depend on me...I know if I ever need help, don't call my dad. He won't be sober. And Mandy knows not to call me now."

"She will forgive you. Especially since you're trying to stop," I assured him.

He scoffed. "Yeah, right."

"Wouldn't you forgive her if it were the other way around?"

He stood up and put the pen back in the clipboard. "I don't pity addicts."