an exerpt from:
Nightlight by Casey Weaver
OLIVIA: 18, she/they, Chinese-American, founder of GSA at their middle school, total flirt, has flouncy hair barely contained by little clips at the crown of her head INEZ: 18, she/her, second generation Venezuelan-American, goofy, nerdy, often overthinking, oldest sibling in busy house with cousins and grandparents
Setting: a cool Saturday night in July at an intimate concert venue. At rise, Olivia and Inez are on their second date. OLIVIA: It sounds like a lullaby.
Inez hums along lightly.
OLIVIA (cont.): It’s just like something my mom used to sing. Did your parents ever sing to you? Inez thinks for a minute. INEZ: Not too much. We read a lot of books at night. Old stuff from when my dad was a kid that bored me to sleep. But I always woke up the second he left my room. The stairs would creak. Beat. INEZ (cont.): I guess it was sort of like singing, hearing him read. What songs did your mom sing? OLIVIA: Everything, it seemed. It always felt the same, though.
Olivia takes a moment, lost in memory.
fh 36
