EVAN: Okay. No, Jared. Obviously not.
(Jared and Connor turn to look at Evan, confused, unsure what he finds objectionable.)
JARED: What? What’s the problem?
EVAN: You weren’t friends with him. That’s not part of the story. I was his only friend. You know that. You can’t just make things up. You need to redo it.
(Jared escorts his imagined Connor offstage.)
JARED: You’re totally right. I mean, what was I thinking, just making things up in a completely fabricated email exchange that never happened?
EVAN: Just don’t change the story please, okay?
JARED: Well, if you want me to redo this email, you’re going to have to wait until Monday, because I have plans all weekend with my camp friends. Or, as I like to call them: my real friends.
EVAN: Yeah, actually, I think we’re good on the emails for now. We’re kind of focusing on bigger stuff. The orchard. Things like that.
JARED: Oh. Well, I can definitely do more with the Kickstarter. I mean, I am the treasurer.
EVAN: I think Alana and I are pretty much set on that. I’ll let you know if I think of anything, though.
JARED: Got it. Hey, I bet Zoe’s happy that your cast is gone.
EVAN: I guess.
JARED: I mean, talk about killing the mood, right? Having to see your brother’s name written on your boyfriend’s arm all the time?
EVAN: I’m not her . . . I don’t know what we are.
JARED: Don’t even worry about it, bro. The only thing you should be worrying about right now is building that orchard for Connor. Because, if there was one thing about Connor: the guy loved trees. Or, no, wait, you love trees. That’s weird. Isn’t that weird?
(Evan doesn’t respond.
Heidi enters in scrubs.)
HEIDI: What are you up to?
(Evan shuts the computer and Jared vanishes.)
EVAN: Nothing much.
HEIDI: I feel like, every time I come into your room, you shut your computer screen.
EVAN: Not really.
HEIDI: I don’t know what you do on there that you don’t want me to see.
EVAN: I was doing homework, Mom.
(Evan stands, begins packing up his things.)
HEIDI: Do you have a minute?
EVAN: Well, actually, I was about to go to Jared’s.
HEIDI: Didn’t you go to Jared’s last night?
EVAN: Well, yeah, we’re doing a Spanish project together. We’re going to be working late again, though, so I’ll probably just stay over.
HEIDI: I saw the strangest thing on Facebook today.
EVAN: Oh really?
HEIDI: There was a video from the, uh, something called The, uh, Connor Project? Have you heard of that?
(Evan freezes.)
Because their website, it says that you’re the president.
EVAN (Quietly): Co-president.
HEIDI: Uh-huh. Well, this was, it was a video of you doing a speech? About that boy. Connor Murphy. How you climbed a tree together.
(Evan sits there, silent, unsure what to do, his old anxiety suddenly returning, his hands beginning to tingle.)
EVAN: I just, um . . . I don’t, um . . .
HEIDI: You told me you didn’t know him. That boy?
EVAN: I know. But.
HEIDI: But then in your speech, you said he was your best friend.
EVAN: Well, because it wasn’t true. When I . . .
(He hesitates for just a moment.
The perfect opportunity to tell the truth.
He makes his choice.)
When I said I didn’t know him.
HEIDI: So you broke your arm with him? At an orchard?
(Evan nods.)
You told me you broke your arm at work. At the park.
EVAN: Who do you think drove me to the hospital? Who do you think waited with me in the emergency room for three hours? You were at work, remember? I couldn’t even, you didn’t answer your phone.
HEIDI: You told me your boss took you to the hospital.
EVAN: Well, so, I lied, obviously.
HEIDI: When were you planning on telling me any of this? Or you weren’t?
EVAN: When would I tell you, exactly? When are you even here?
HEIDI: I’m here right now.
EVAN: One night a week? Most people, their parents, they try to do a little bit better than that, just so you know.
HEIDI: Isn’t that lucky for them.
EVAN: I have to go to Jared’s.
HEIDI: I don’t think I want you going out right now actually.
EVAN: I told Jared I would be at his house ten minutes ago.
HEIDI: All right, listen. I am missing class tonight so I can be here to talk to you, Evan. I would like you to please just talk to me.
EVAN: Okay. I mean, I can’t just not do work for school because you decided to miss class. I can’t just stop everything whenever you decide it’s convenient for you.
HEIDI: I don’t understand what is going on with you.
EVAN: Nothing is going on with me.
HEIDI: You’re standing up in front of the school and giving speeches? You’re president of a group? I don’t know who that person is.
EVAN: You’re making a big deal out of something that isn’t a big deal.
HEIDI (Increasingly desperate): What is going on with you? / You need to talk to me. You need to communicate with me.
EVAN: / Nothing is going on with me. I told you everything.
HEIDI: I’m your mother. I’m your mother.
(The word catches in her throat.
Silence.
Evan says nothing.
Finally, Heidi composes herself.)
I’m sorry. I was . . . I don’t know why I . . . I’m happy. I’m happy you had a friend, sweetheart. I’m just so sorry he’s gone. I wish I had known.
(Evan nods, suddenly ashamed.)
If you ever want to talk about it . . .
EVAN: I should go.
(Evan turns to leave.
Heidi picks up a bottle of pills.)
HEIDI: You okay on refills?
EVAN: I’m not taking them anymore.
HEIDI (Surprised): Oh.
EVAN: I haven’t needed them.
HEIDI: Really? So, no anxiety or . . .? Even with everything that’s . . .?
EVAN: I’ve been fine.
HEIDI: Well, great. That’s great. It’s . . . I’m proud of you. I guess those letters to yourself must have really helped, huh?
EVAN: I guess so.
HEIDI: Well. Don’t stay up too late. It’s a school night.
EVAN: I won’t.
(Evan goes.
Heidi stands there, utterly at sea.)
THREE
The Murphys’ garage.
Larry digs through an old cardboard box, taking out a number of signed baseballs in protective plastic cases.
LARRY: Brooks Robinson. Jim Palmer. Here’s the entire ’96 team. Look at that.
EVAN: Wow.
LARRY: You get the right people to come to an auction like this, baseball fans, I bet you could raise a thousand bucks for the orchard, easy.
EVAN: No, it’s a great idea. I’m definitely going to talk to Alana about it.
(Larry pulls out a baseball glove from the box, sets it aside, continues rummaging.
Inside the baseball glove, a can of shaving cream and some rubber bands—the beginnings of a project that was never finished.)
LARRY: I swear, I have a Cal Ripken in here somewhere . . .
EVAN: This is really generous of you. To donate all this stuff.
(Zoe enters. She and Evan share a furtive smile.)
ZOE (To Larry): Mom says that your show is on and she doesn’t want to DVR it again.
LARRY: Well, tell her we’re busy.
ZOE: With what?
EVAN: Your dad had a good idea for the orchard. To do an auction.
LARRY: Evan’s helping me go through my collection here.
(Beat.)
ZOE: Dad, are you torturing him?
LARRY: What?
ZOE: Evan, is he torturing you?
EVAN: No. What?
ZOE: You can tell him he’s being boring and you want to leave. He won’t be upset.
LARRY: He can leave whenever he wants.
EVAN: I don’t want to leave.
ZOE: Evan, do you want to leave?
LARRY (To Evan): If you want to leave . . .
EVAN: I don’t want to leave.
ZOE: Okay. Well. Don’t say I didn’t warn you . . .
(Zoe exits.)
LARRY (Laughs): Women. Right?
(Evan attempts to laugh along, one of the guys.)
EVAN: I know.
LARRY (Gingerly): So, you and Zoe . . .?
EVAN (Desperate to avoid the subject): This glove is really cool. Wow.
(Evan picks it up.)
LARRY: You feel how stiff the leather is?
EVAN: For sure.
LARRY: Never been used. You probably have your own glove at home, I’m sure.
EVAN: Oh. Uh. Somewhere. I don’t know if it fits anymore. It’s been a while.
LARRY: You know what? Why don’t you take this one?
EVAN: Oh. No. I couldn’t.
LARRY: Why not? Because, it sounds like, I mean, if you need a new glove anyway . . . This one is just going to sit here, collecting dust.
EVAN: Are you sure?
TO BREAK IN A GLOVE
LARRY:
I bought this glove a thousand years ago
For some birthday
Or some Christmas that has come and gone
I thought we might play catch or—I don’t know
But he left it in the bag with the tag still on
You’d have to break it in, though, first. You can’t catch anything with it that stiff.
EVAN: How do you break it in?
LARRY: Your dad never taught you how to break in a baseball glove?
EVAN: I guess not.
LARRY:
It’s all a process that is really quite precise
A sort of secret method known to very few
So, if you’re in the market for . . . professional advice
Well, today could be a lucky day for you
Shaving cream.
EVAN: Shaving cream?
LARRY: Oh yeah. You rub that in for about five minutes. Then you tie it all up with rubber bands, put it under your mattress, and sleep on it. And then the next day, you repeat. And you’ve got to do it for at least a week. Every day. Consistent.
And though this method isn’t easy
Ev’ry second that you spend
Is gonna pay off
It’ll pay off in the end
It just takes a little patience
It takes a little time
A little perseverance
And a little uphill climb
You might not think it’s worth it
You might begin to doubt
But you can’t take any shortcuts
You gotta stick it out
And it’s the hard way
But it’s the right way
The right way
To break in a glove
Nowadays, with your generation, I hate to say it, but it’s all about instant gratification. Who wants to read a book when you can read the Facebook instead?
EVAN: Totally.
(Larry picks up the shaving cream and the rubber bands.)
LARRY: With something like this, you have to be ready to put in the work. Make the commitment.
(Beat.)
What do you think?
EVAN: I mean, definitely.
(Evan puts out a hand.
Larry sprays shaving cream onto it.
He sprays shaving cream onto his own hand and begins working the glove.)
LARRY:
Some people say, “Just use a microwave
Or try that run-it-through-hot-water technique”
(He laughs.)
Well, they can gloat about the time they save
’Til they gotta buy another glove next week
(Evan smiles.
They begin to work together on the glove as their voices join.)
LARRY:
It just takes a little patience
EVAN:
It takes a little patience
It takes a little time
It takes a little time
A little perseverance
Perseverance
And
A little uphill climb
A little uphill climb
And it’s the hard way
But it’s the right way
The right way
The right way
’Cause there’s a right way
In ev’rything you do
Keep that grit
Keep that grit
Follow through
Follow through
LARRY:
Even when ev’ryone around you thinks you’re crazy
Even when ev’ryone around you lets things go
Whether you’re prepping for some test
Or you’re miles from some goal
Or you’re just trying to do what’s best
For a kid who’s lost control
(Larry stops, surprised by his sudden emotion.)
You do the hard thing
’Cause that’s the right thing
Yeah, that’s the right thing
EVAN: Connor was really lucky. To have a dad that . . . a dad who cared so much. About . . . taking care of stuff.
(Larry collects himself.)
LARRY: Your dad must feel pretty lucky to have a son like you.
(Evan lies—a reflex.)
EVAN: Yeah. He does.
LARRY: Good.
(Beat.)
Well. If you want to go catch up with Zoe . . .
(Evan nods, begins to exit.
He stops, unable to let the lie stand.)
EVAN: I don’t know why I said that. About my dad. It’s not true. My parents got divorced when I was seven. My dad moved to Colorado. He and my step-mom, they have their own kids now. So. That’s sort of his priority.
(Pause.
Larry puts the glove in Evan’s hands, a hand on his shoulder.)
LARRY: Shaving cream. Rubber bands. Mattress. Repeat. Got it?
EVAN: Got it.
LARRY:
It’s the hard way
EVAN:
But it’s the right way
The right way
The right way
To break in a glove
To break in a glove
You’re good to go.
FOUR
Evan’s bedroom.
Zoe slowly walks around, taking it in.
Evan hovers, nervously watching.
A palpable tension between them.
ZOE: So when does your mom get off work?
EVAN: She has class Sunday nights, so she won’t be home for another few hours.
ZOE: We have the whole house to ourselves?
EVAN: You know it.
ZOE: We should throw a kegger.
EVAN: We should definitely throw a kegger. For sure.
ZOE: Until your mom comes home.
EVAN: In three hours.
(Pause.)
Thank you for, um, for coming.
ZOE: You realize, I’ve been asking to come to your house for, like, weeks, and every time you’ve immediately said no.
EVAN: I know. Which is why I appreciate that you’re here now.
(Zoe glances at papers on his desk.)
ZOE: What are all these?
EVAN (Hurries to put them away): Oh. Those are, my mom is obsessed with these college scholarship essay contests she found online. She keeps printing out more of them.
ZOE: There are so many.
EVAN: Yeah. I know. I mean, I’d have to win probably a hundred of them to actually pay for college. When you add it all up. Tuition, housing, books.
/> ZOE: Your parents, they can’t . . .?
EVAN: Not really.
ZOE: I’m sorry.
(Evan shrugs.
Uncomfortable, he changes the subject.)
EVAN: Well, hey, I meant to tell you before, we had a meeting with The Connor Project a few days ago and I think we have a really great strategy for raising more money for the orchard.
ZOE: We, um . . . can we talk?
EVAN (Crestfallen): Oh. Shit.
ZOE: What?
EVAN: No. Just. You’re breaking up with me, right? That’s why you came over.
ZOE: Breaking up with you?
EVAN: God. Like, how presumptuous can I get? I don’t even know if we’re, like, dating officially or whatever, which isn’t even . . . never mind, why am I even talking right now? It’s fine. Don’t worry, you can tell me, I’m not going to cry or start breaking things . . .
(Zoe just stares at him.)
ZOE: I’m not breaking up with you.
EVAN: Oh. Well. Okay. Thank you.
ZOE: Don’t mention it.
EVAN: That’s really great news.
(She takes a breath, struggles with how to articulate this.)
ZOE: It’s just, The Connor Project . . . I mean, it’s great. But maybe we don’t have to talk about my brother all the time. Maybe we can talk about . . . other things.
EVAN: I just thought maybe you’d want to know.
ZOE: No, I know you did, but it’s just . . . my whole life, everything has always been about Connor. And right now, I just want . . . I need something just for me. If this is going to be a . . .
(She chooses the word carefully.)
Dear Evan Hansen Page 8