"Okay, is everyone ready to hear about our next assignment?"

Jade perked up and leaned forward in her seat. She was always excited to get a new assignment in her play-writing class. The class itself was sometimes iffy, but writing was Jade's passion, and she poured her heart and soul into every play she wrote. All her works pulsed with her spirit. Although it was true that the fragments of her life and experiences that made it into her writing often went unrecognized by others, to her, her plays were vehicles for pouring her emotions out of her and making sense of them. Or at least making something interesting with them.

Jade didn't only write for her class assignments; she always had a couple other works going on at the same time, and she would jump between them, writing scenes whenever she felt inspired. Oftentimes her favorite plays were ones which were not required for class, but ones which she wrote on her own. She would occasionally show them to her play-writing teacher anyways, just because it was always nice to get feedback. But some of her plays were so personal that she would never let anyone else read them, much less produce them. They were just for her, and they were incredibly dear to her heart. Those beloved plays were kept in a locked drawer in her room, safe from anyone who might attempt to pry into Jade's personal life and feelings.

The plays she wrote for class were completely different. Sure, they were usually a little dark, but the intensity was toned down a lot from her other works. The prompts could also be hit or miss; they were usually compelling, but sometimes they just felt dumb. I hope this is a good one.

Jade mentally crossed her fingers as her teacher explained, "You will all be writing about the same setting and same general characters: chickens on a farm." Jade groaned. What kind of idiotic prompt is that? Who the heck writes about chickens?!

The teacher continued, unfazed by the general alarm in the classroom. "I am sure you will all come up with amazingly unique and creative stories to tell. After all, characters are mere vehicles for the theme. If you can successfully write a compelling narrative with chickens as your characters, then you will find it much easier to develop meaningful stories later on."

Jade looked around the classroom. The other students looked about as enthused as Jade felt; it was as though they had been told they were going to write a story exploring how it feels to watch paint dry and had to do first-hand research themselves. Actually, I think that would be more interesting than chickens. Chickens!

Despite the lack of interest from her students, the teacher kept talking. "I want you to have fun with it. Bring in your personal experiences; tell your life story through these chickens. For this project only, I do not want you to plan out the plot. In fact, I prohibit you from doing so. Each day, you will write one scene for your play. Let the story tell itself, and let it take you where it wants to go. I am looking forward to what you all have to say." With that, she dismissed the class.

Jade got up slowly, then made her way into the hall and toward her locker. That prompt sucks, but you know what? It'll be fine. I don't have to worry about the stupid chicken play until after school, so whatever. I can push it out of my mind, and the rest of the school day will be fine. Jade put her books in her locker and was just done convincing herself that she could still enjoy her day when her thoughts were interrupted by a perky voice that came from about a foot away from her right ear, on the other side of her locker door.

"Hi Jade, can we talk?"

Jade closed her eyes. That voice was unmistakable, but Jade desperately wanted to be wrong about who was standing there, waiting. It's Vega. Shit.

"Uh, Jade? Did you hear me?"

Yes, I heard you! Now get the hell away from me before I punch you in the stomach!

"Jade? Come on, you're not even putting books away anymore."

No duh. You've invaded every single one of my fricking thoughts and I can't focus on anything else. There's no room for something like locker organization when you're standing right here demanding that I pay attention to you.

"Okay, seriously? Jade? I get that you're mad at me, I just wanted to…"

Jade slammed her locker door shut. "Just go away, Vega! You think I want to talk to you? Now get out of my face before it's too late."

A brief hurt look flickered across Tori's face, and then she turned around and walked away.

Jade breathed a sigh of relief. She was surprised that she had even been able to force out those 22 words before her mind had been overwhelmed with every detail of Tori's face and hair and shirt… Ugh! Stop it! I have to get her out of my head. Jade shook her head to try to erase Tori from her mind, but she was unsuccessful. The girl's perfect skin, wonderful deep brown eyes, and amazingly beautiful facial structure were ingrained in her mind as deeply as… well, deeper than Beck's features, honestly. Fuck. That's not good. Why the fuck does she have to claw her way into my mind when I'm trying to keep her out? And why can't she just leave me alone?

Jade banged her head against her locker in frustration, then shook her head again and walked to her next class, hoping there would be some distraction that could clear Tori from her thoughts, at least for the moment.

That didn't go well. Tori was sitting in her music theory class, trying to pay attention to what the teacher was saying about syncopated rhythms but failing miserably. All she could think about was her failed attempt to apologize to Jade.

Well, I knew it would be hard. And I knew it might take more than one try. So why am I so upset about this? As if it were her mind's way of responding to her thoughts, Tori immediately recalled what Jade had said to her: "You think I want to talk to you?" Tori had never seen Jade angrier, even during the alphabetical improv or when Tori had kissed Beck. Why does she hate me more now than she did then? It doesn't make any sense.

"Miss Vega, are you with us?"

Tori's head snapped up. "Uh… what?"

Tori heard a few snickers from around the room. She shrunk back in her seat in embarrassment, and she felt guilty that she hadn't heard what the teacher was saying. I was trying, it's just… I couldn't get Jade out of my mind. Why does her rejection sting so much?

"I was asking whether you would like to explain to us the difference between the rhythms in bars 36 and 42."

Tori quickly scanned the sheet music in front of her until she found the right measures. They looked exactly the same, except… was that dot in a different place?

"Um, I think… maybe they're opposites?"

"How so?"

How am I supposed to know that? I suck at rhythms. Of course today's the day I had to be distracted. Tori stared at the page again, hoping the answer would speak to her, or something like that. But no, today was not her lucky day. Tori sighed. "I don't really know."

The teacher frowned. "I see. Maybe next time you'll find it helpful to pay attention during the lesson."

Tori gulped. She hated when teachers were disappointed in her. "Yeah… I'm sorry."

Out of the corners of her eyes, Tori saw some people rolling their eyes at her or mocking her, but she tried to block them out. She already felt bad about not paying attention, and that only piled on top of her pre-existing disappointment from being rejected by Jade. I can fix it though. I can make her listen to my apology. I have to, somehow.

After school, Jade sat down at her desk and got out a spiral notebook. Even though she eventually typed up her plays, she always preferred to brainstorm and write drafts on paper. It felt more… authentic. She felt that with a notebook and a ballpoint pen, the words that flowed out of her mind and through her arm onto the page were more authentic and clean. Writing was her art, and computers were, in her opinion, ugly contraptions that soured anything beautiful that she could create. So there were no computers involved until they absolutely had to be.

What to write about? How do you make a chicken interesting? How do you tell a story about a chicken? Actually, how do you tell a story through a chicken?

Hmm… it doesn't have to be about the chickens at all. Jade closed her eyes, leaned back in her desk chair, and let her mind wander:

Elephants. Those are pretty tusks. And dangerous, too. Not quite as dangerous as spears, maybe, but elephants are much stronger than humans, so they make more formidable foes. If they're angry. But most of the time they're not. They're generally very peaceful. You would never expect an elephant to attack you if you weren't threatening it. But maybe that's what makes it so dangerous. You can't expect it. You never know it's coming.

Like Vega. That obnoxious devil. She looks all innocent and sweet with her cool shoes and cute outfits, and then she just randomly decides to kiss your boyfriend. There's nothing but cruelty there. You'd never expect it, but it's true.

But why can't I get her out of my fucking head? She walks up to me and says "Hi, Jade," and then my brain turns to mush and every inch of my mental real estate gets devoted to her. I can't escape her! Fuck, even now, at home, she's dominating my thoughts. Oh my god, she's like a parasite. I'll never get away from her.

Do I want to get away from her? Wait… did I follow her around at school yesterday? Oh great, that's exactly what I did. What the hell is wrong with me? I fricking hate her and yet I follow her around like a lost puppy, as if I can't live without her.

I'm an idiot. A complete moron. There's no other possible explanation for this. And I'm so utterly, completely lost…

Jade was spiraling quickly, and she knew it. She knew that if she didn't do something to externalize her emotions, she would surely crash in a matter of seconds. I can't have that happen to me. Not now. And when confronted with such a situation, the only thing Jade knew how to do was write. So write she did. She had no clue what she was writing about, but she just wrote every word that popped in her brain without a second thought. The more she could write the better, and the quicker the better as well. Jade's hand flew across her paper as she scrawled furiously, pushing out all her thoughts and feelings through her pen.

I'm a confused idiot. That's as a good a place to begin as any, I suppose.

One Very Confused, Idiotic Chicken

by Jade West

Dramatis Personae:

NELLY: Zell's best friend; an unlucky chicken whose only consolation after being murdered is that its death was short and painless, which may in fact be better than the intense agony that its surviving friend must bear daily.

DELL: a chicken.

MEL: a chicken.

KEL: a chicken.

BELLE: a chicken.

ZELL: a confused, idiotic chicken and our heroine.

ADELAIDE DENEB: a cruel farmer.

A note to the director:

Have fun casting this play. I see two possible solutions to the chicken problem: either get a really good chicken trainer and an audience who's fluent in chicken-speak, or find several professional actors who are willing to portray chickens onstage. I'm not sure which would pose more of a challenge, so I'll leave it up to you to take your pick.

SCENE 1

ZELL: Have you seen Nelly recently?

BELLE: (to MEL) Oh no, I guess she hasn't heard...

ZELL: Heard what?

MEL: Do you want to break the news? Or should I?

ZELL: (getting impatient) What news?

BELLE: (sighs) I guess I can tell her.

ZELL: Tell me what!?

BELLE: How should I put this... Well, you know Nelly?

ZELL: (exasperated) Yes, that's who I'm asking about!

BELLE: Uh, well, she's... Not coming back to the coop any more.

ZELL: What do you mean?

(BELLE looks at MEL, unsure of how to continue.)

MEL: She encountered Farmer Deneb . . . And now she's hanging in the farmhouse kitchen.

(ZELL freezes in shock.)

BELLE: She's not taking it too well, is she?

MEL: No, but what can you expect? Nelly was Zell's best bud; there were never any two hens closer than Nelly and Zell.

BELLE: You're right. This must be hard on her. (To ZELL) Let me know if you need anything, okay? For now I'll be looking for some feed.

(ZELL nods slightly.)

(MEL and BELLE exit downstage left.)

(ZELL thinks for a moment, then heads upstage right toward the farmhouse. She walks around, trying to find the door, then she enters. The set of the farmhouse is open to the audience, allowing them to see what takes place inside. There is only one room. The kitchen area is nearest to the door, with a couple medium countertops and some cooking utensils, as well as a small oven and stove. There is also a small table with one chair behind it, as well as an easy chair, a lamp, and a thin bed with a couple ragged blankets draped across it. FARMER DENEB is inside, fiddling with a knob of the stove. She looks up in surprise as ZELL enters the room.)

FARMER DENEB: Oh, why hello there, Madame Hen. What are you doing out of your coop?

(ZELL looks up at FARMER DENEB with a mix of anger and wonder in her eyes.)

ZELL: You killed my friend, you evil monster!

FARMER DENEB: I'm sorry, your squawking is quite difficult to understand. Maybe if you speak up a little, I will better be able to hear you.

ZELL: (in a dreamy voice) Your house… is so luxurious… it is like a palace.

FARMER DENEB: What's that you're saying? Here, let me pick you up.

(FARMER DENEB reaches down and picks up ZELL so she is sitting on the counter. ZELL gazes into FARMER DENEB's eyes.)

ZELL: Your eyes… are beautiful…

FARMER DENEB: I'm sorry, I still cannot understand you, so unfortunately this conversation must come to an end. But you came so far… it seems like such a waste of your effort to just take you back to the coop…

(FARMER DENEB takes a large knife out of a rack on the counter. ZELL's eyes widen with realization and she jumps off the counter and runs out of the farmhouse. She doesn't stop running until she reaches the other end of the stage, at which point she collapses on the ground, shaking.)

— END OF SCENE 1 —

Jade stared down at her paper. Did I just write that? Was that all me?… I can't decide whether that's the stupidest thing I've ever written or whether this is way too autobiographical to turn in to my teacher. Oh, that sounds pathetic. My life is now just a stupid play about a stupid chicken who can't listen to common sense and is just so damn stupid! Jade lay her head in her hands and rested her elbows on the surface of the desk. What's wrong with me? Why can't my life story be a chicken who lives in freedom and does fun things all day and is happy? And how come the only thing I can think about is the only thing I hate to think about; why can't Vega just get the hell out of my thoughts so I can concentrate on other things?... Well, maybe tomorrow will be better. There's no reason to believe it will be, but there's always hope. After all, Zell's life can't get any suckier from here, right? Right!? God, I hope not. But there's no way to tell what tomorrow will bring.

A/N: Well, that was all definitely very different from the previous chapters. Don't worry, 1x3 (stage fighting!) will come soon enough, but it requires the proper build up, and apparently that means chickens. I hope you enjoyed this chapter, and thank you so much for reading!