Jonah and Bobby



JONAH and BOBBY are both sixteen. JONAH is tall, a little chubby, falling over his shoes. BOBBY is too thin, a little quick, and not comfortable in JONAH’S company. Not that JONAH is any more at ease.

They grew up together and, for a couple of summers, rode bikes and played baseball incessantly.

JONAH is black, BOBBY white. This is the American Midwest.

JONAH
You said I have a slave name.

BOBBY
I never said that.

JONAH
In fourth grade. Yes, you did.

BOBBY
I did not fucking say that, Jonah. Mark Kliegman did.

JONAH
And then you did. You said it after.

BOBBY
That was Mark, you fuck. Come on…

JONAH
You repeated it. After Mark and Kevin went away.

BOBBY
Well, I think you’re wrong.

JONAH
You said it. I heard you.

BOBBY
We were friends, Jonah. Why would I say that?

JONAH
Because you liked what it did. You wanted to feel good, like Mark, that’s why.

BOBBY
Mark’s a dick. He’s a dick to this day.

JONAH
Yeah, but he feels good.

BOBBY
What are you saying, Jone?

JONAH
I’m saying, I’m saying that you wanted to keep the spark alive, because Mark is Mark.

BOBBY
OK, look; OK. Yeah, I liked Mark, he was the obnoxious cool kid of the 4th grade. I’m a stupid fuck. I wanted to be Mark. Just for a minute.

JONAH
More than that, OK.

BOBBY
Are you done, Jonah?

JONAH
Yeah, I’m done.

BOBBY
I still talk to you, Jonah. I could give a shit about Kliegman.

JONAH
I’ll see you later, Bobby.

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