Hey, guys! I'm back, with a multi-chapter in hand for Zevie! It's in play form… because my friend and I have been writing several plays ever since we both quit our play.

Anyway.

It's a Holocaust play. I just found that I was Jewish before I was adopted, and Angel and I have been focusing on that subject. (Our play is of the Holocaust.)

Sofia is Stevie. Harry is Zander.

The rest of the characters will evolve into the How to Rock characters.

I didn't see How to Rock yesterday! I was so mad and sad… but I saw the picture of their hands at the end and I was kind of satisfied.

This is the first play I've ever written without Angel helping me, so sorry if it isn't great!

Oh, and Libba the Amazing: I'll try to get that plot into a story!

Vamplove218: I'll get it into a story! And I'm here if you need to talk.

Anyway, off with the story! The italics are the stage directions…

Xxxxx

Act 1, Scene 1

(It is the eve of November 28th, 1942, in Gdansk, Poland. There is a sense if apprehension in the air. The background and scenery stay the same for the next couple scenes. It is the country. There is no harvest; all the fields are barren. Houses, differing in sizes and features, line each side of the cobblestoned street. A big, blue, three-storied house is the focus. The streets are silent, except with the occasional ring of the church a few miles away. Our view slides to the inside of the house, into a room on the third floor. A young girl, around the age of 14 or 15, is unpacking her suitcase and peeling her layers of clothes off of her body. She has wavy brown hair that forms a curtain around her face as she leans over. Her face is streaked with tears. Her tunic sticks to her body, her arms are thin and bony, but her body is well built. Her eyes have a bewildered look in them. She looks as if she hadn't slept in days.

There are lots of clothes already strewn everywhere in the small room. All have a yellow Star of David on them.)

A voice outside the closed door: Ms. Vandergiff? May I come in?

(The girl seems to know the voice, and her face brightens)

Sofia "Stevie" Vandergiff: Yes, Sister Mary.

(The door opens. A woman of 40 years comes in. She is clad in a blue dress that reaches to her ankles, and she is wearing a pair of clogs. Her usual headpiece is missing. She is a Catholic nun who had agreed to take in Sofia when her parents were sent to the Warsaw Ghetto a week ago.)

Sister Mary: I would like to introduce someone to you. (Motions to a figure outside the door. A boy, a few years older than Sofia, comes in, his eyes wary. He is a good six inches taller than Sofia. He has cropped black hair and blue-green eyes. He has a slight British accent, and he tends to talk in an old-fashioned way. He is not a friendly person, and takes time to warm up to people, but can be nice to those who he favors. He is a Catholic, too, who was raised up by Sister Mary ever since he was a little boy after his parents died in an automobile crash in Holland in 1932. We are the only ones to see his eyes lighten up as he sees Sofia.)

Harry Douser: (while holding a hand out in welcome) Hello. My name is Harry Douser. Welcome into the family.

Sofia: (chuckles, her tiredness forgotten. She is a relatively happy-go-lucky child. She takes the hand offered, giving it a hardy shake.) My name is Sofia, but please call me Stevie. Everyone at home called me that, and I'd like to retain that part of my life at least.

(The two young people stare at each other. Sister Mary silently slips out the door, closing it behind her quietly. She heads down the hallway. Meanwhile, a conversation is going on in the bedroom.)

Sofia: So, why are you here?

Harry: I was brought here when I was 5, nearly 6. My parents died in an automobile crash while we were visiting Holland. (sits down on the bed, taking no notice of the clothes) I've lived here ever since then. Sister Mary teaches me all I need to know, and I imagine you'll study with her too. What about you? Why are you here?

Sofia: (while folding clothes, avoiding the question) Oh?

Harry: Yes, every morning from eight to one in the afternoon. Then comes a break for dinner. Then we continue with music studies from half past two to four, and then we are allowed to write, draw, or go outside into the garden. Bedtime is ten o'clock. But you didn't answer my question.

Sofia: (finishes her suitcase, and starts to hang things up into her closet) Oh, well that's nice. I guess I will get to continue piano and singing.

Harry: (waits)

Sofia: Fine. My parents were sent to the Warsaw ghetto; why I don't know. We didn't even live near there! (sits down next to Harry. He slides over on the small bed to make room for her. Even then they are nearly touching.)

Harry: Oh. I'm sorry, I didn't know.

Sofia: (silently) I got a telegram that they had died on the way to Auschwitz from there, yesterday. They tried to escape, and someone shot them. Then the officers came for me, but I was hurried into a different house before they could get to my old house. That's when I was sent here.

Harry: (takes Sofia's hand, comforting her.) Hey. It's all right. I'm here, Sister Mary and the nuns, too.

Sofia: (smiles gently through her tears) I know. I know you are. That's why I told you.

(She slides even closer to Harry. They smile at each other. Then a bell rings from downstairs. Sofia, shocked, jerks away from her spot and jumps up. Her normally peaceful face suddenly turns scared, and pitifully timid.)

Bell downstairs: RIIINNNNGGGG.

Sister Mary: (shouts up the stairs) Harry, dear!

Chłopiec! Come!

(a dog starts to bark)

Sofia: (even more scared, her voice is shaking) Wha-at was that?

Harry: (makes a face) That's Sister Mary's way of calling me for supper. I'm usually so stuck in my writing that she has to call me a couple times. Instead of that, she's taken to this way, with a bell.

Sofia: (visibly relieved) Oh.

Harry: (gets up and goes to the door, opening it. He motions for Sofia to go first.)

Sofia: (gets up and goes to the door. Before going through it, she looks up at Harry.) One more thing. What's something that I should know about you before I go downstairs?

Harry: (thinks for a few seconds, but then we see he has thought of something) My middle name's Zander. That's what everyone calls me around here except for Sister Mary. So… you call me that, and I'll call you Stevie, all right?

Sofia: (grins; goes through doorway) Deal, Zander. That's a funny name, by the way.

Harry: (smiles and follows Stevie/Sofia) But don't tease me! It was my uncle's name!

Sofia: I was named for my mother!

(We hear them bickering as they clomp down the steps. It is quiet throughout the house except for the downstairs rooms. Our vision goes out the front door, and switches to the streets. We hear the church bell ring seven times.)

(Curtains close.)

XXXXXX

So… how'd you like it? I was in a hurry by the end, because there is a commotion in the house. But I might be able to update this week.

Review!

Xx,

Allysa