Back Cover Script
Back Cover Script
A PLAY
BY
EMILY HAGEMAN
STAGE PARTNERS
WWW.YOURSTAGEPARTNERS.COM
Back Cover by Emily Hageman
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Cast of Characters
(Seven women, three men.)
Author Notes
“Back Cover” may be performed by all teen actors, or it may be performed by all
adults playing teens. As long as there is no exaggerated affectation of youth, the
playwright is satisfied. Creative staging is encouraged. Be plentiful with symbolism.
Color should be used frequently to symbolize characters. Purple for characters who
are looking to the future (MadisonNow, Jessica, Dad, Katie, Alyssa, Matt, and Mrs.
Lee) and black for characters trapped in the past (Mom, Dad, and MadisonThen).
characters make the choice to focus on the future and the stage right side could be
used for when characters choose to look focus on the past.
Cutting
There is also a 32-minute version available for competitions, if a tighter time frame
is needed. Contact info@yourstagepartners.com for details.
Acknowledgments
Back Cover was originally performed at Siouxland Christian School on December 2,
2017. The director was Emily Hageman, and the cast was as follows:
MADISONNOW……………………Mikellie Grant
MADISONTHEN……………………Sarah Goetsch
JESSICA………………………………..Rachel Pirrie
MOM………………………………..Rachel Nelson
DAD…………………………….Trenton Armstrong
MATT………………………………..Austin Yanney
KATIE…………………………….Riley Doenhoefer
ALYSSA……………………...Gwenyth Hoogendyk
FATHER……………………………Jack Etherington
MRS. LEE…………………………………Erin Spake
Dedication
Back Cover is dedicated with love to Mikellie, Sarah, Rachel P, Rachel N, Trenton,
Austin, Riley, Gwenyth, Jack, and Erin for their courage, honesty, and kindness. This
play surely would not be what is without the love and work that you ten put into it.
Thank you for performing it many times (MANY times) with such energy, focus, and
truth. I love all ten of you more than I can say, and am so grateful that the pages of
your stories touched mine.
BACK COVER
BY EMILY HAGEMAN
(At Rise: Two rehearsal cubes are set stage right and stage left. MADISONNOW
stands center and MADISONTHEN sits on the stage right box.)
MADISONTHEN: I hate New York City.
MADISONNOW: When I was fourteen years old, I filled up an entire notebook
writing one thing over and over and over again:
MADISONTHEN: I hate New York City.
MADISONNOW: Maybe I knew somewhere in the back of my head that I didn’t
hate the actual city itself. I just hated everything that it wasn’t. It wasn’t home
and I had determined that it never would be home.
(MOM sits in the front seat of a car with MADISONTHEN.)
MADISONNOW: When I was fourteen years old, I spent a lot of time determining
what I would be and what I wouldn’t be. I watched a lot of TV and I knew I
didn’t want to be the typical, surly teenage daughter. So my hormones and I
went to war.
MOM: Honey, honey, look! A special on blueberry pancakes! You love blueberry
pancakes! We’re stopping—we’re stopping and eating as many blueberry
pancakes as we can!
MADISONNOW: You can probably guess from my mother’s ravenous desire to
please me that the divorce had been bad.
MOM: I hope they have streusel on top just like you like. And let’s order coffee!
(MOM and MADISONTHEN rearrange the boxes like a diner booth.)
MADISONNOW: I was the most miserable, self-pitying teenager who has ever lived.
Doctor Phil would have loved me.
MOM: Extra cream and sugar for me! Ooh, I’m so bad!
MADISONNOW: I was raised to pretend.
MOM: Mmm, these pancakes are to die for. You have to try them, honey.
MADISONNOW: Mom told me that we were moving because she had a great job
opportunity. It’s funny how sneaky adults think they are.
MADISONNOW: When I was fourteen years old, I laid in my room and cried. I
found out ten years later that my mom was crying in the next room. This wasn’t
what either of us wanted, but divorce was a thing that happened to almost
everyone and you only got so long to cry about it. You could cry over grandpa
dying, but not over Dad choosing the family he liked better.
DAD: That’s not what it is, Madison—
MADISONTHEN: Then what is it, Dad?
DAD: It’s something I have to do.
MADISONTHEN: It’s something you have to do for you, Dad. What about me? Am
I just supposed to disappear? Do you just want to start over—do things the way
you really wanted?
DAD: Mads—
MADISONNOW: I still hate that nickname.
MADISONTHEN: I hate you. You’re so stupid.
DAD: Madison—
MADISONTHEN: Go ahead, go off to your new family. I hope it’s better. I’ll never
talk to you again.
MADISONNOW: Does anybody else ever look back at themselves and cringe?
DAD: Madison, please, I want to keep having a relationship with you.
MADISONTHEN: Well, that’s not going to happen. Bye, Dad.
MADISONNOW: When I was fourteen years old, I thought words were just words.
I didn’t know how much they could scar.
DAD: Mads, wait!
MADISONNOW: I was so angry and so determined not to show it. I decided that
the best target for my rage would be an unmoving object—the apartment itself.
There was nothing wrong with it except for the fact that it was smaller than my
house, older than my house, and, well, generally not my house.
MADISONTHEN: This morning, there was a mouse in the bathroom. He just sat there
and looked at me like I was the one invading his space. So I decided I’d go to
the bathroom later since he obviously had claim there.
MADISONNOW: Of course, Mom tried to make it into something cool.
MOM: It’s like a spooky old haunted house! Ooh, I’m the ghost of Christmas past!
Boooooo!
MADISONNOW: Because everyone fourteen-year-old girl wants to be Ebenezer
Scrooge.
DAD: (On phone:) Hey, Mads, this is…well, I guess you probably know who it is.
Call me when you get a chance, okay?
MADISONNOW: In an effort to avoid my real problems, I started exploring. There
were all kinds of nooks and crannies in the apartment. Most of the time, there
were just dead spiders and mouse droppings. It got boring quickly. But then, I
pulled away the loose paneling above my bed.
(MADISONTHEN pulls a shoebox out of the rehearsal cube.)
MADISONNOW: When I was fourteen years old:
MADISONTHEN: I found a shoebox in my wall.
MADISONNOW: Everyone says that they grow out of that stage where they get
excited about finding buried treasure, but that’s just because they never find
anything. It was one of the most magical moments in my life. I almost didn’t
want to open it, afraid that it was maybe a puppy’s coffin or something. But I
did because—well, of course I did.
(MADISONTHEN opens the shoebox and takes out eight letters. Each one has a
clear date written on it in black marker. August 18, August 20, August 25, August
28, September 2, September 4, September 7, September 10.)
MADISONNOW: It was August 18.
MADISONTHEN: I literally found a shoebox full of letters in my wall.
MADISONNOW: It confirmed what I already had suspected:
MADISONTHEN: New York City is weird.
MADISONNOW: They could have been nothing, but somehow, I knew I was
holding something remarkable in my hands—or maybe I only think that
because I know now that I was. But regardless, when I was fourteen years old,
I found a shoebox in my wall full of envelopes with dates on them—and I
opened the first one.
MADISONTHEN: (Reading:) I hate New York City.
JESSICA: I hate New York City.
MADISONNOW: I devoured the rest of the letter like my life depended on it.
JESSICA: I feel bad saying it because I know neither of us want to be here, but we
didn’t have a choice. There was nothing left for us in Rockport except a
reminder of the way things used to be. But seriously, I hate everything about
New York City. But my father says that things can change. He says that
everyone has the power to change the course of someone’s life with small acts
of goodness. And he says even though we might not be able to change New
York City, New York City won’t change us. I believe him, I really do, but still:
JESSICA & MADISONTHEN: I hate New York City.
JESSICA: Less than a month till school starts. I hope everyone back in Texas sending
me good vibes like they told me they would. I’m going to need them. Sincerely,
Jessica Walsh.
MADISONNOW: I read the letter once—and then I read it again. The next morning,
I couldn’t stop myself—I read it again. I looked at those words—my words—
JESSICA & MADISONTHEN: I hate New York City.
MADISONNOW: But I saw what Jessica was doing with them. For the first time—
and certainly not the last time—I admired her so much and wondered how she
did it.
MADISONTHEN: We might not be able to change New York City—
JESSICA: —but New York City won’t change us.
MADISONNOW: She made it sound so easy—like it was a choice. But I was a little
ball of feelings—and I let them control me.
JESSICA: My father says things can change.
MADISONNOW: Yes. Yes, they can.
DAD: It’s something I have to do.
JESSICA: Small acts of goodness—
MADISONNOW: But I wondered what Jessica thought about big acts of badness.
(MOM and DAD are fighting.)
MOM: I don’t want you to go.
DAD: I have to—
MOM: You have a family, Michael, what about Madison?
DAD: I don’t know what to tell you. I feel like—I don’t have enough oxygen here.
MOM: I’m sorry that we aren’t enough for—Madison, you’re supposed to be in bed.
MADISONNOW: Nothing was the way that it was supposed to be.
JESSICA: Things can change.
MADISONTHEN: Please let that be true.
MOM: Let’s get brunch!
MADISONNOW: I could have just torn open the rest of the letters, but something
made me want to wait for the next one. I felt like I could breathe.
DAD: (On phone:) Hey, Mads—your mom says you got in safe. Glad to hear it! Just
call back if you feel like it, no pressure. Love you.
MADISONNOW: August 20 came and I tore open my new letter, eager to learn more
about my new friend.
JESSICA: It’s weird, but TV pretty much got New York City right. It’s big and loud
and brassy, but I have to admit, it’s kind of fun. We went to Times Square today
and took a picture with a weird Elmo knockoff. He smelled bad, but it was still
fun. My father seemed a little more like himself today.
FATHER: Wanna get pizza, Jess?
JESSICA: I haven’t seen my father eat a full meal since my mother got sick.
FATHER: I’m going to have heartburn for days, but it’s worth it.
JESSICA: I know my father is nervous about his new position, but he never says
anything. I used to think that that was admirable, but now it just makes me hurt.
FATHER: She would have loved this. All the lights.
JESSICA: I miss her so much. Sincerely, Jessica Walsh.
MADISONTHEN: Jessica’s mom died.
MADISONNOW: My dad was gone too, but he was on the other end of a phone.
JESSICA: I miss her so much.
MADISONTHEN: I miss him so much.
MADISONNOW: It reminded me of something that my Mom had said after my
grandma had died.
MOM: Honey. Nobody is ever ready to die, but it’s not a matter of being ready.
MRS. LEE: Welcome to Freshman History. I am really excited to begin the semester
with you. I hope that you take the time to familiarize yourself with the syllabus,
but I’d like to draw your attention to the second page. We will be presenting a
project on the first Friday of the school year so I’d like you to begin work now.
KATIE: Oh boy. The 9/11 project.
ALYSSA: The joy of every freshman’s existence.
MADISONTHEN: What is it?
KATIE: Every year, Lee has the freshmen do a presentation on 9/11. I was kind of
hoping she’d retire it this year.
ALYSSA: Parents usually give a lot of backlash since the material out there is really
disturbing.
MADISONNOW: I found myself looking forward to the project, though I never
would have admitted it. I had dignity.
MADISONTHEN: It’s due that Friday? But school starts on Tuesday!
KATIE: Lee is awesome, but she’s brutal.
ALYSSA: A rare combination.
MADISONNOW: Before I went home, Katie and Alyssa gave me their numbers to
text. In a weird way, I felt like Jessica was proud of me.
JESSICA: New York City won’t change us.
MADISONNOW: But it was changing me. For the better.
(MATT is on the phone. He is expecting JESSICA to answer. FATHER answers.)
MATT: (Eagerly starting a joke:) Knock, knock.
FATHER: Excuse me?
MATT: Oh, I, uh—
FATHER: Who is this?
JESSICA: (In her letter:) Matt must have gotten my number from the directory. Is it
bad that I let him squirm?
MATT: I was calling for Jessica, Mister, um, Mister—sir—
FATHER: Walsh.
MATT: Sir Walsh—I mean, Mister Sir Walsh—
(MATT hangs up and dies of embarrassment. FATHER starts to exit and sees
JESSICA who has been listening. FATHER clears his throat awkwardly.)
JESSICA: Go get ’em, Dad.
(FATHER is trying to be stern, but failing. They crack up. JESSICA pats his shoulder
as he passes by.)
JESSICA: So. Matt and me, September 2nd. I could think of worse ways to spend a
day.
MADISONNOW: A day with friends on September 2nd. Sounded fun.
(KATIE, ALYSSA, and MADISONTHEN are texting.)
KATIE: I’m free on September 2nd. See you then! Thumbs up emoji, smiley face
emoji, lifting hands emoji.
ALYSSA: Ew, stop sending emojis, Katie.
KATIE: Arrow emoji, poop emoji.
ALYSSA: Mature.
KATIE: That’s you. You’re the poop.
ALYSSA: K.
MADISONNOW: Katie and Alyssa were so different from my old friends, but I was
glad they were. They were so—unapologetically themselves. I wanted so badly
to be around them because I wanted that to rub off on me. Maybe they could
show me how to stop cringing my way through life.
(KATIE sprints into MADISONTHEN’s space. ALYSSA follows after, annoyed.)
KATIE: Mads, I like your apartment!
ALYSSA: Katie, good grief, do I need one of those leash-backpacks for you?
KATIE: I’d just take it off! Easy!
ALYSSA: Congrats, you’re smarter than a backpack.
KATIE: So who lives here?
ALYSSA: Madison does, duh.
KATIE: No, like—your mom or dad or grandma or whoever? Or are you being raised
by monkeys or something? No judgment, I think that’d be awesome.
MADISONNOW: In Galena, you didn’t have to ask, everyone had a Mom and a
Dad. I felt relieved.
MADISONTHEN: Just me and my mom.
KATIE: Coooooool. It’s just me and my dad—and we live in this teeny tiny little
house, it’s like the size of this place, but it’s its own separate building which is
cool I guess. And it’s suuuuuuuuper old, just like your apartment!
ALYSSA: Katie, you are the rudest person who ever lived. Don’t tell her her apartment
is old.
KATIE: Well, it is! I think somebody died in my house. There’s a weird brown stain
on my carpet. I bet it was murder!
ALYSSA: Okay, you are ridiculous. This is why we don’t have any friends, Katie.
Madison already thinks we are insane.
MADISONTHEN: Well, maybe just a little.
ALYSSA: Just wait. This is just the beginning.
MADISONNOW: So different. I loved them.
KATIE: Let’s go eat pizza and try to get faaaaaaaaaaat!
MADISONNOW: I’d never had friends who I actually wanted to be around.
(JESSICA is trying to figure out what to write in her letter. She keeps crossing things
out.)
JESSICA: Matt is…
MATT: There’s a lot of homeless people around here.
JESSICA: Matt and I hung out today and he…
MATT: Hey, hang on one second?
JESSICA: When Matt and I hung out today, he bought a homeless guy a sandwich
and a bottle of water.
MATT: Sorry to make you wait. Want to rent bikes?
JESSICA: He didn’t make a big deal out of it, he just did it.
MATT: I can pop a serious wheelie.
JESSICA: He didn’t even check to make sure I saw it.
MATT: And ride with no hands.
different than us. That’s really the theme of history—fear of the unknown. We
focus on the things that make us different as opposed to the things that make
us the same. Understanding history is understanding that things are not set in
stone and no one is a slave to their circumstance.
(JESSICA turns back to look at a stunned MATT.)
JESSICA: (A little embarrassed:) You know?
MATT: Uh. Wow. I am seriously out of my depth here.
JESSICA: But you know, right?
MATT: Yeah. Yeah, of course. Man, you’re brilliant.
JESSICA: (In her letter:) I don’t think I’ll ever forget the way he said it. I can’t stop
smiling.
MADISONNOW: He didn’t tell her she was pretty.
JESSICA: This boy. This man.
MADISONNOW: This was so much more.
JESSICA: Most guys are dumb, but Matt is…
(As MATT is exiting, he turns back to look at her. They smile at each other.
JESSICA, beaming, finally chooses her word for him.)
JESSICA: …Matt’s okay.
MADISONNOW: I couldn’t stop thinking about what Jessica had said about history.
It had never occurred to me that I could shape my story could be whatever I
wanted it to be—and I could be whatever character I wanted.
MOM: Hey, honey! How was your first day of school?
MADISONTHEN: It was okay. I only got lost twice.
MOM: Better than my first day last week. I thought the boardroom was the bathroom!
MADISONNOW: I wondered when my mom and I would start telling the truth.
MADISONTHEN: Do you like your new job?
MOM: Oh, yeah! It’s fun and crazy busy! Papers, papers, papers! But you know me,
I’m a filing fiend.
MADISONNOW: I was ready, but Mom wasn’t. And that was okay.
MADISONTHEN: Mom, you’re ridiculous. I love you.
MADISONTHEN: Jeff Birnbaum, South Tower. “When we got to about fifty feet from
the South Tower, we heard the most eerie sound that you would ever hear. A
high-pitched noise (MATT starts to read with her.) and a popping noise made
everyone stop…”
MATT: “…and a popping noise made everyone stop. We all looked up. At the point,
it all let go. The way I see it, it had to be the rivets. The building let go. There
was an explosion and the whole top leaned toward us and started coming
down.”
MADISONTHEN: Constance LaBetti, 99th floor. “So I stood up, and I just turned my
body towards the window, and I could see the big airline coming straight
towards us. I just stood frozen. I couldn’t move. I could see it coming closer
and closer… (ALYSSA begins to read with her) I could see the cockpit…”
ALYSSA: “…I could see the cockpit. I could see inside the cockpit, the tinted
windows of the cockpit. That’s how close I was. And then it just bellowed into
Tower One. And for a moment, just for that moment, I was almost sighing of
relief, until I realized all those people that had just been killed in that tower.”
(KATIE, DAD, MOM, MATT, and ALYSSA begin to repeat their quotes in growing
intensity and terror.)
MADISONNOW: And then, suddenly—
(EVERYONE falls immediately silent.)
MADISONNOW: I remembered something.
MADISONTHEN: No.
MADISONNOW: Something pulled at my conscious. Gently, at first, and then harder
until panic began to seep into my every pore. No. It couldn’t be. I was wrong.
MADISONTHEN: No. No.
(The world begins to swirl around MADISONTHEN as she tries to remember.
Maybe the actors begin to fill the stage, walking across and ignoring her. Maybe
memories battle to be heard. Create chaos.)
MADISONNOW: But I began to remember little things. Scraps of something that I
thought didn’t add to a narrative. Pieces of some terrible puzzle clicking
together.
MATT: That’s where your dad’s going to work? You know they threw that spire on
top literally just to make it the tallest building in the world. So weird.
MADISONTHEN: No.
FATHER: It’s just going to be a much bigger deal than my last job, you know? Of
course I’m nervous. It’s in one of the most important buildings in New York
City. The crown jewel of the skyline.
MADISONTHEN: No. Please.
(MADISONTHEN runs for the shoebox and begins to dig through it.
MADISONNOW watches her, knowing. When JESSICA speaks, the world stills
immediately around MADISONTHEN.)
JESSICA: I’ve heard that when there’s a lot of wind, the building will actually bow
and sway like a precarious metal kite.
MADISONTHEN: Please, please, no.
JESSICA: Eight years ago, there was a bomb in the building. I don’t think my father
knows and I’m not going to tell him.
(MADISONTHEN takes out the September 10 letter.)
MADISONTHEN: September 10, 2001.
JESSICA: He’s scared of heights.
MADISONNOW: I had always loved being right.
MADISONTHEN: No, please—please, no—
(MADISONTHEN grabs her laptop and begins clicking furiously.)
MADISONNOW: I had seen the casualty list. It was so long—I could hardly stand to
look at it, but in that moment, I had to look at it because I had to know I was
wrong. Jessica and Matt and her Father had gotten out—because if they hadn’t,
if they hadn’t, if they—
MADISONTHEN: Jessica Renee Walsh.
MADISONNOW: My Jessica. There was a man’s name with the last name Walsh
right by hers. And there were so many Matthews. So many. It had to be wrong.
I couldn’t accept it. Jessica’s story was one of goodness and light and beauty
and hope and—that couldn’t be the end. It couldn’t.
MADISONTHEN: No, no, no—
MADISONTHEN: None of it had anything with Jessica or Matt or her dad. They died
for nothing.
MOM: No, honey—
MADISONTHEN: —they died for nothing. All those people. Nothing.
MOM: No, honey, they didn’t. Everyone’s story means something.
MADISONTHEN: Jessica never got to finish her story. Mom, I’m not doing this 9/11
project. I’ll do a project on something else. I can’t do it. Please. Please don’t
make me do it. Please email Mrs. Lee.
MOM: (Torn:) Is that what you need, honey?
MADISONTHEN: Yes, mom. Please.
MOM: Okay, sweetheart.
MADISONNOW: At school the next day, everything felt hazy. Jessica was dead—
and so was I.
MRS. LEE: Madison, do you have a moment?
MADISONTHEN: Yes, Mrs. Lee?
MRS. LEE: I understand that you would like a different project for tomorrow. You
understand I cannot offer an extension?
MADISONTHEN: Yes, ma’am, I understand.
MRS. LEE: I read your outline—you have a lot of excellent research already. May I
ask why you are switching projects?
MADISONNOW: I would discover later that my mother had told Mrs. Lee
everything. At the moment, I just assumed that she—like all adults—was
omniscient.
MADISONTHEN: I knew someone.
MRS. LEE: Who was in the building?
MADISONTHEN: Yes.
MRS. LEE: Someone you loved and admired very much?
MADISONTHEN: Yes.
MRS. LEE: Then why don’t you tell their story?
MADISONTHEN: Because she didn’t have a story—it was just starting and someone
ended it.
MRS. LEE: Her story didn’t end.
MADISONTHEN: Yes, it did.
MRS. LEE: No, her story is your hands now. You can decide if it ends with you or if
you pass it on.
MADISONTHEN: She’s dead. That’s the end.
MRS. LEE: Do you think her story is important?
MADISONTHEN: I can’t.
MRS. LEE: Why not?
MADISONTHEN: I’m afraid.
MRS. LEE: Of?
MADISONTHEN: My story ending before I’m ready.
MRS. LEE: Have you ever read the back cover of a book before?
MADISONTHEN: Yeah.
MRS. LEE: Does it tell you everything you need to know about a book?
MADISONTHEN: Well, no.
MRS. LEE: No. It’s what’s inside the book that’s most important. Our stories only end
when the power of our influence dissipates. We aren’t a billion separate
hardcover books, not touching each other—we are stacks of papers, flowing
endlessly in and out of each other. Her story is part of your story. We are not
the things that happen to us, Madison, we are what we do and who we are in
here. (MRS. LEE gestures to her heart.) So I ask you again, do you think her
story is important?
MADISONNOW: Jessica was dead, but I felt her hand on my shoulder. My friend.
MADISONTHEN: Yes.
MRS. LEE: Then you must tell it.
MADISONNOW: So I did. It took me the whole night, but I did. When I was fourteen
years old, I stood up in front of my freshman history class and told a story about
a girl who I had never met, a girl who had died terribly, but a girl who had left
an indelible mark on my soul.
JESSICA: Everyone has the power to change the course of someone’s life with small
acts of goodness.
MADISONNOW: Each year, I read the words of my Jessica and hold them closer to
my heart—but I have never, ever been able to let go of the most profound
feeling of loss—a childish sense of entitlement that I deserved to meet her. But
Jessica taught me that life isn’t about what we deserve. And besides, I think I
was meant to find those specific words of hers. They met me right where I was
and pulled me from a pit that was darker than I ever had to know.
(ELLIE enters. She is MADISON’s daughter. ELLIE must be played by the same
actress as MADISONTHEN.)
ELLIE: Mom, my feet hurt.
MADISONNOW: This is Ellie. She’s fourteen years old.
ELLIE: Can we please sit down for like five seconds?
MADISONNOW: My girl. She’s hurting and she’s hiding it. Her father and I were
unhappy. We left each other.
ELLIE: I’m just gonna text Amelia.
MADISONNOW: She doesn’t care if people like her for who she really is, she just
wants to be liked.
ELLIE: Amelia and her dad are going to dinner at Steamboat’s. I’m jealous.
MADISONNOW: We come to New York City every year.
ELLIE: What do fallen arches feel like?
MADISONNOW: And she hates New York City.
ELLIE: Mom, I think my arches fell.
MADISONNOW: I had wanted to tell her Jessica’s story when she turned fourteen,
but I didn’t know that her life would be so closely mirroring mine. Here we are
at the 9/11 memorial and I can’t say a word.
ELLIE: What do you think dad’s doing right now? Do you think he’s with his
girlfriend?
MADISONNOW: I know she feels like she is going to die. I remember. And then,
there was Jessica. She helped me understand that you can feel like you’re dying,
but you don’t have to die.
ELLIE: What are you looking at, mom?
MADISONNOW: My eyes are always drawn to her picture. My first and truest friend.
I hope you know, Jessica, somehow. Let me thank you one last time.
ELLIE: Mom?
MADISONNOW: Honey, come here, I want to show you something.
ELLIE: Jessica Renee Walsh. Who is she?
JESSICA: Understanding history is understanding that things are not set in stone and
no one is a slave to their circumstance.
MADISONNOW: When I was fourteen years old, I found a shoebox full of letters in
my wall belonging to Jessica.
(JESSICA looks at MADISONNOW. Their eyes meet. They smile.)
MADISONNOW: This is her story.
End of Play.
The two playwrights, Jason Pizzarello and Morgan Gould, felt that finding high quality
material for school, community theater, or performance groups shouldn’t have to be so
complicated. Why should it be so difficult to search, select, and order plays to perform?
And why should teachers, artistic directors, and group leaders spend time and money or-
dering and reading plays that they ultimately don’t choose to produce? How can one de-
cide to produce a play he or she hasn’t read? How can anyone be sure that the play fits his
or her community guidelines, artistic standards, and producing capabilities? Stage Partners
removes that guesswork.