|
Getting your Trinity Audio player ready...
|
Prologue
Stage: Dim, almost bare. The tree limb is visible but muted. A wash of pale winter light across stone walls suggests Devon in the present.
adult Gene enters slowly, coat draped over his arm. He walks the stage as if retracing invisible lines. He stops at the tree.
adult Gene
I came back. Not to see classrooms or hear bells—those never belonged to me.
(beat)
Only two places waited. One, a stairway of marble, polished by feet that carried too much. The other, a tree. Ordinary now. Not then.
(pause)
You think memory shrinks with distance. It doesn’t. It grows teeth. It asks you to tell it again, to make sense of what never had sense.
(He places his hand lightly on the bark of the limb.)
adult Gene (cont.)
This is where our war began. Not the one with uniforms. The other one. The war that leaves no medals, only shadows.
(Lights swell gently from cold winter into the golden wash of summer. young Gene and Finny burst in, laughing, pulling us into Scene 1.)
Scene 1 — The Golden Summer
Stage: A mostly bare stage. Upstage center, a tree limb structure arcs out over a suggested river (rippling light projection). Movable benches sit in shadows, ready to become lawn, classroom, or riverbank.
Lights: Dim sidelight on adult Gene, who stands near the proscenium, coat on his arm, studying the space like a returned pilgrim. Warm summer wash waits in darkness.
SFX: A faint chorus of crickets. The distant lap of water.
adult Gene
(quietly, to the audience)
There are two places at Devon that still talk when you listen. The marble stairs—too polite to confess what they’ve seen. And the tree—perfectly ordinary, until one night it held more weight than wood could carry.
(pause)
I came back years later to hear what summer had kept.
(He looks up toward the limb. Lights shift: a golden summer wash floods the stage. young Gene enters with a book, tentative. Finny vaults in from the opposite side, pure motion.)
Finny
Gene! The river is waiting, and so is our immortality!
young Gene
I have Latin, actually. A fairly stern version of it.
Finny
Then bring it. We’ll conjugate in mid-air. Think of the verb “to leap”: I leap, you leap, we pretend we can’t drown.
(He grins, tugging Gene forward. They cross to the tree limb; Finny touches it with something like affection.)
Finny
It’s exactly the right height for courage and not wisdom.
young Gene
That’s a comforting ratio.
Finny
(salutes the limb)
The Super Suicide Society of the Summer Session will now convene. Attendance mandatory. Minutes short.
young Gene
Minutes always are, with you.
Finny
I prefer seconds. Fewer syllables, more river.
(He climbs the limb with casual grace; the lights ripple below. He looks back with that bright, unafraid smile.)
Finny
Jump with me.
young Gene
On purpose?
Finny
On principle. Which is the better cousin of purpose.
(Finny leaps. A soft splash suggested by light and sound. The boys on the riverbank—Brinker and Leper—appear from shadows, reacting.)
Brinker
He wants us to admit we’re impressed.
Leper
I can be impressed quietly.
Finny
(offstage, calling)
Gene! The water’s even wetter today!
young Gene
(to himself)
There are people born brave. The rest of us hold jackets.
(He climbs. He pauses mid-limb, glancing at the audience as if they are the water. He leaps. splash. Laughter.)
adult Gene
(aside)
Some days you belong to someone else’s courage. It feels like safety. It isn’t.
(Lights breathe. The boys sprawl along benches now set as riverbank lawn. Finny demonstrates an imaginary ball; the others watch.)
Finny
Blitzball. One ball, everyone is the enemy, but also the team. No score, because numbers only lead to tragedy.
Brinker
No score because you can’t be bothered to keep track.
Finny
Exactly. The universe is a perfect blur. Ready?
(He “tosses” the invisible ball to Gene and instantly chases him. A kinetic pantomime: Finny invents rules mid-run.)
Finny
New rule—if you’re tackled, you become the ball.
(to Gene)
You’re the ball. Consolations.
young Gene
How am I supposed to run as a ball?
Finny
With spherical conviction.
(The boys laugh. Gene dodges; Finny pivots, effortlessly generous and competitive at once. He lets Gene “win” a small moment, applauds as if Gene authored physics.)
Leper
I like games with fewer angles.
Brinker
It’s not geometry; it’s religion. Finny invents a rule and we tithe our breath.
Finny
And in return, I give you absolution from boredom.
(He flops onto the grass, looking up at the limb.)
Finny
You ever think it’s strange that all this—
(gestures at the sky)
—is free? I don’t trust free things. I feel like I should pay gratitude at least twice a day.
young Gene
With interest?
Finny
Compounding.
(Beat. A bell rings faintly.)
Brinker
Evening study hall calls. Shall we pretend?
Finny
Let us attend with our feet and absent ourselves with our souls.
(Brinker exits with Leper. Finny watches Gene gather his book.)
Finny
Let’s go to the beach tomorrow. Sleep on sand. Wake up with salt. Yes?
young Gene
I have a trig exam. The revenge of numbers, as you said.
Finny
Gene Forrester, you can do trigonometry in your sleep. The beach will merely improve the setting.
young Gene
I’m not sure my teacher will agree.
Finny
Then we won’t ask him. Democracy.
young Gene
We don’t vote in this one?
Finny
We did. I counted our hearts. Unanimous.
(He starts away, then turns back suddenly, softer.)
Finny
You’re my best pal, you know.
(Gene freezes a fraction too long. Finny’s smile doesn’t falter.)
young Gene
I—
(he looks for the words, can’t find them)
We should, um—bring a blanket.
Finny
(laughs, not wounded)
A prudent addition to immortality. I approve.
(He exits. Gene stands alone, book at his side.)
adult Gene
There are sentences that hang in air like bridges we never cross.
(Lights shift. A tea on the lawn: one bench becomes a table, a cloth dropped over it. Patch-Withers appears with a cup. Finny enters, immaculate in everything except one detail.)
Patch-Withers
Young man… is that the Devon School tie—
Finny
—as a belt. Yes, sir. I discovered in an emergency that my trousers required moral support.
Patch-Withers
An emergency?
Finny
I was late to the tea and could not, in good conscience, expose the faculty to my disarray.
(A beat. The adults should scold; instead, Finny’s sincerity disarms.)
Patch-Withers
(trying not to smile)
Remarkable presence of mind.
Finny
Devon trains us for crisis, sir.
(Patch-Withers moves on, amused in spite of himself. Brinker sidles up to Gene.)
Brinker
He commits crimes and then charms the charges to death.
young Gene
He doesn’t think of them as crimes.
Brinker
That’s the trick.
(Finny returns with lemonade, offers Gene a glass like a peace treaty.)
Finny
To our continued education in not drowning.
young Gene
You’re planning more trees?
Finny
I’m planning more life. Trees are cooperative.
(They drink. A clock chimes. Lights dim to evening. The bench becomes a dorm window ledge; outside, crickets and the hush of a campus pretending to sleep.)
young Gene
I should review sines.
Finny
You should review sand. We leave at dawn.
young Gene
(half smiling, half trapped)
You’ll make me fail beautifully.
Finny
Then they’ll be forced to reconsider the grading system.
(He notices Gene’s book, takes it, flips it shut with a gentle thwap.)
Finny
Trust me.
(A small silence. Gene looks at him—at the ease, the warmth—and feels something hard, unnameable, shift inside.)
adult Gene
Envy moves very quietly. It never declares itself. It borrows your voice.
(Gene takes back the book, opens it, then closes it again. He sets it down.)
young Gene
Dawn, then.
Finny
Dawn.
(They share a grin that looks, for a moment, like equality. Finny exits with a little hop that says his body is a kind of promise. Gene watches him go.)
adult Gene
We were sixteen, and the world was a summer that did not yet know the word “price.”
(Quick transition: the benches re-form into a suggested shoreline. A low amber wash: beach at dawn. A gull call. Finny and Gene stand barefoot, shoes in hand, the tree a distant silhouette now.)
Finny
Tell me one true thing you think about me.
young Gene
(uneasy, joking)
That you could talk a thunderstorm out of raining.
Finny
Not true. I prefer rain. It makes the grass reckless.
(He kicks up sand, smiling, then grows unexpectedly quiet.)
Finny
I meant it last night. About best pals. You don’t have to say it back. It’s not that kind of math.
(Gene tries to answer, fails again. Finny rescues him.)
Finny
Come on. Ocean’s getting impatient.
(They run forward together, stop short of the water, breathing hard.)
young Gene
I can’t be late again.
Finny
We’re right on time. Look.
(Sunlight breaks. A flare of gold across their faces.)
Finny
See? Exact minute we needed.
(Gene lets out a laugh he didn’t know he was holding. Finny throws a look back toward the invisible school, then forward to the horizon.)
adult Gene
We touched the edge of a world that only wanted our joy, and mistook it for proof that joy was owed.
(Beat. The beach dissolves; the lawn returns. Afternoon heat, lazy and bright. The tree waits in the corner of everyone’s eye. Brinker and Leper cross, arguing softly about nothing important.)
Brinker
He’ll get us all disciplined by example.
Leper
I don’t mind examples if they have birds in them.
Brinker
Of what?
Leper
Peace, mostly.
(Finny appears with two ciders pilfered from nowhere, hands one to Gene.)
Finny
Consider this research into the chemistry of summer.
young Gene
Hypothesis?
Finny
That we’re alive, and that it’s not an accident.
(They drink. Finny leans back against the tree limb—careless, faithful. Gene watches his hand on the bark as if it were a promise written down.)
adult Gene
I remember the exact weight of the air. How it settled on the leaves, and on my shoulders. How easy it seemed to be near him, and how impossible to be him.
(A bell rings again—longer, insistent. The world tilts toward evening. Finny stands, swats imaginary dust from his knees.)
Finny
Tree tonight?
young Gene
Again?
Finny
We should keep our membership current.
(He flashes that grin. Gene nods, a fraction too late.)
young Gene
All right.
Finny
Attaboy.
(He bounds off. Gene remains, caught between the open book he isn’t reading and the limb he can’t stop seeing.)
adult Gene
There was nothing inevitable about what happened. Everyone thinks that, hearing the story. They think fate loves tidy equations. It doesn’t.
(beat)
It was only us. Two boys. A tree. A summer that promised more than it could keep.
(Lights fade toward blue twilight. The tree limb darkens, river light begins to glimmer beneath, foreshadowing Scene 2. Gene steps into shadow, looking up.)
Blackout.
Scene 2 — The Fall
Stage: The same tree limb structure dominates. Lighting shifts from warm twilight into cold moonlight. Benches rearranged to suggest dormitory, then the infirmary.
Sound: Evening insects, then silence. A soft river current beneath everything.
adult Gene
There are nights when silence presses harder than sound. That summer’s silence gathered in the branches of a tree.
(He steps back. young Gene and Finny enter, wearing pajamas and slippers, sneaking toward the tree. Their voices are hushed but excited.)
Finny
We have to keep the society alive. No meetings skipped, no excuses. Loyalty is our only initiation fee.
young Gene
We could meet on the ground, you know. Gravity is perfectly democratic.
Finny
And perfectly dull.
(He climbs easily onto the limb. Gene follows slower, book still in hand.)
Finny
Come on, Gene. The river’s waiting.
young Gene
Sometimes I think it waits with a grudge.
Finny
Nonsense. It’s a forgiving river. We’ll leap, it’ll embrace.
(They balance side by side, the limb swaying under their weight. A long pause. Gene glances at Finny, his book slipping slightly from his hand.)
adult Gene
There are moments when envy disguises itself as balance, and you don’t notice which side of the branch is heavier.
Finny
Ready? On three. One—
(A twitch in Gene’s knee. The branch jolts. Finny gasps, arms windmilling—then he falls. His cry cuts short as the splash fills the theater. Silence, then shouts offstage.)
young Gene
(whisper, horrified)
Finny—
(Freeze. Lights isolate Gene on the limb, trembling. adult Gene steps forward into a side pool of light.)
adult Gene
I did not plan it. That would almost have been a relief. Planning is neat, deliberate. This was something else—blurred, unconscious, the dark echo of a thought I couldn’t name. But the effect—oh, the effect was neat enough.
(Lights slam black, then return: the infirmary. A cot under harsh white light. Finny lies with his leg in a heavy cast. Doctor Stanpole stands by, clipboard in hand. Gene hovers nearby, pale.)
doctor Stanpole
Clean break. He’s lucky. He’ll walk again. Athletics—well, we’ll see.
(He exits. Silence. Finny wakes, turns his head, smiles faintly at Gene.)
Finny
Hey, pal. Did you fall too?
young Gene
(startled)
What?
Finny
I thought I remembered you… slipping. We were clumsy. Dumb as fish.
young Gene
Yes. Yes, I—I slipped.
Finny
Good. That means it wasn’t just me. It was both of us.
(Gene’s throat works. He wants to speak, but can’t.)
adult Gene
I could have told him then. In that sterile light, when the world was already broken. But cowardice is patient—it knows silence is a stronger wall than lies.
(He steps back. Lights shift: Devon dormitory, autumn. A colder palette now, the warmth drained. young Gene sits at his desk, books open. Brinker saunters in.)
Brinker
So the golden boy’s gone, and you’re still here. Convenient, isn’t it?
young Gene
Convenient?
Brinker
Room to yourself, first place in class, no competition for the faculty’s smiles.
young Gene
That’s not what—
Brinker
Relax, Forrester. Joking. Everyone knows you two were inseparable.
(He exits, leaving Gene rattled. Lights fade. A small warm wash on a living room: Finny’s home. Gene stands awkwardly by the door; Finny sits in a chair, leg in cast.)
Finny
You came. Good. Now you can admit it was just dumb luck.
young Gene
Finny, I need to tell you—
Finny
No, no confessions. The truth is, you’re going to play for me now. You’ll run, I’ll coach, and together we’ll win. Deal?
young Gene
I…
Finny
Deal. Shake on it.
(They clasp hands. Gene’s attempt at confession dies under Finny’s unwavering trust.)
adult Gene
There are prisons built of love. They look nothing like cells, but the bars are stronger.
(Lights fade. A new wash: the Devon common room. Students chatter. Gene sits quietly, staring at his hands. Leper wanders by, dreamy.)
Leper
The army’s recruiting ski troops. Imagine—gliding on snow, rifles like walking sticks. Doesn’t that sound peaceful?
young Gene
Peaceful isn’t the first word that comes to mind.
Leper
It’s the only word I like.
(He drifts away. Brinker enters again, tossing a paper ball at Gene.)
Brinker
Cheer up, Forrester. Your roommate’s a legend now. Broken, but a legend.
(Gene doesn’t reply. Brinker eyes him, suspicious, then shrugs and leaves. Silence again. Gene alone, haunted. The tree looms dimly behind.)
adult Gene
Autumn fell harder than summer ever did. The river froze, the days shortened, and my secret grew roots. I had planted it myself, and still I couldn’t pull it up.
(He looks at the tree.)
adult Gene (cont.)
I had made my war. And I had already chosen the enemy.
(Blackout.)
Staging Notes
Lighting: The fall itself is stylized—Finny’s body doesn’t need to drop literally; sound, light, and a sudden blackout carry the impact.
Symbolism: The branch limb remains center stage, but shifts meaning with each lighting change—from freedom to betrayal, from memory to menace.
Rhythm: Dialogue keeps Auburn’s naturalistic style—short exchanges, gentle humor undercut by silences. Mendes’ direction would emphasize stillness after key moments (the fall, the infirmary silence, Gene’s aborted confession).
Scene 3 — War and Denial
Stage: The tree limb remains upstage, now bare and skeletal in cooler light. Benches rearranged quickly become classroom desks, a gym, snowy fields, and the common room. The world of Devon grows stricter, with projections of ration posters and recruitment slogans faintly on the back wall.
Sound: A faint military drum in the distance; occasional radio crackle with news of the war.
adult Gene
Summer dissolved too quickly. War pressed its boot at the edges of campus, and even Devon’s stone walls couldn’t keep it out. For us, discipline arrived with winter.
(Lights up on a classroom. Master Ludsbury stands, lecturing sternly. young Gene sits at his desk, staring at nothing. Other boys scribble notes.)
Ludsbury
The war is not an abstraction, gentlemen. It is the arithmetic of survival. Discipline here is preparation there.
(He glares. The bell rings; the boys scatter. Gene lingers. Brinker sidles up.)
Brinker
You look like you’re studying your conscience, Forrester. Dangerous subject—never passes the exam.
young Gene
I’m not—
Brinker
Oh, I think you are.
(He smirks, exits. Lights fade to a warmer wash: Finny’s living room. Gene stands awkwardly; Finny, leg still in a cast, sits in his chair, radiating energy despite his injury.)
Finny
You’ve come all the way here. Means you’re still loyal. That’s good, because I need you to listen: I refuse to accept this nonsense about no Olympics in ’44.
young Gene
But, Finny—
Finny
No buts. We’ll train you. You’ll run, I’ll coach, and we’ll prove the world wrong. Deal?
young Gene
I was going to tell you—
Finny
No, you weren’t. You were going to let me believe in something. So do it. For me.
(He extends his hand. Gene, torn, shakes. The moment seals them again. Lights shift.)
adult Gene
Confession drowned under his faith. He built me into his second body, and I wore the shape like penance.
Stage shift: Benches roll to create a Devon gym. Finny returns to school on crutches. His arrival shifts the atmosphere.
Finny
(entering with a grin)
Gentlemen, I am back, and you may all relax. Order is restored.
(The boys laugh. He turns to Gene, eyes sharp.)
Finny
You’re going to be fast, Gene. Faster than fear. Faster than doubt. The Olympics are waiting.
young Gene
They might not even—
Finny
That’s their mistake. We’ll be ready anyway.
(Montage effect: Gene runs laps in slow rhythm across stage while Finny times him with a stopwatch, calling encouragement. Each lap heavier, breath harsher.)
Finny
Again. Again. Don’t stop until you can’t tell if you’re you or me.
(Gene collapses onto a bench, gasping. Finny kneels, proud.)
Finny
That’s it. That’s our training. You’re becoming both of us.
(Gene looks at him, torn between gratitude and despair. Lights fade.)
adult Gene
For a while, it worked. If I moved my body until I was empty, there was no room left for guilt.
Stage shift: Snow. Benches rearranged into makeshift rail tracks. Boys shovel in rhythm as a train whistle echoes. Leper lingers, transfixed by a recruitment poster projected faintly: a ski trooper gliding down white slopes.
Leper
Look at that. No mud, no blood. Just clean snow and motion. That’s the war for me.
Brinker
You’d trip over your own skis, Leper.
Leper
Maybe. But imagine it—sliding like silence.
(He exits, dreamy. Gene watches him go, unsettled.)
Stage shift: Devon common room. A fire glows faintly. Boys gather. Brinker leans in toward Gene.
Brinker
I’m enlisting. Tomorrow, maybe. The country needs me. You should come.
(Gene opens his mouth, then hesitates. Finny bursts in, crutches clicking, face alight.)
Finny
Gene! We have practice. You can’t enlist—you’d ruin my schedule.
(The room laughs. Brinker watches Gene carefully. Gene looks between them, torn, then lowers his eyes.)
young Gene
I can’t. Not yet.
Brinker
Of course not. Why trade the Olympics for a rifle?
(He exits with a sardonic smile. Finny limps closer, softer now.)
Finny
Don’t listen to him. You’re not built for uniforms. You’re built for speed. And you’re mine, Gene. My legs, my chance.
(Gene nods silently, trapped by love and guilt. Lights dim.)
Stage shift: The winter carnival. Benches form makeshift stalls, decorations scattered. Boys hand out tinfoil medals. Finny presides like a ringleader.
Finny
By the authority vested in me by boredom, I declare these games open until they’re closed!
(Laughter. Music. Gene runs, wins a silly race. For a brief moment, joy returns. Then a boy rushes in with a telegram. Silence falls as Gene opens it. He reads aloud.)
young Gene
“I have escaped. My refuge is at home. Leper.”
(The carnival dissolves instantly. Laughter dies. Finny’s face falls. Lights harden to cold.)
Stage shift: A farmhouse projection. Snow. Leper appears, gaunt, twitchy, eyes haunted. Gene approaches cautiously.
young Gene
Leper—what happened?
Leper
They called it psychotic. Section Eight. Not a hero’s discharge—madness. I saw things. Men’s faces melting. Windows that closed on me.
young Gene
I shouldn’t have come—
Leper
(violent, desperate)
You’re a savage underneath, Gene. I saw it that night. I know what you are.
(Gene recoils. Silence. Lights fade.)
adult Gene
Even war was kinder than that mirror. Leper had only seen what I already knew: the enemy within my skin.
(He steps forward as lights close around him, the tree limb casting a long shadow. Snow falls faintly. He looks upward, haunted.)
adult Gene
And still Finny trusted me. Still he built his world on the one branch that had already broken.
(Blackout.)
Staging Notes
Lighting: Sharp contrasts—warm gym vs. cold snow vs. sterile farmhouse. The carnival is the brightest, then collapses into cold silence with the telegram.
Symbolism: Training montage as shared body; Leper’s dreamlike imagery projected behind him during breakdown.
Tone: Increasing pressure, as Gene is pulled between Brinker’s war reality, Finny’s denial, and Leper’s collapse.
Scene 4 — The Trial
Stage: A bare, echoing assembly room. Upstage, a semicircle of wooden chairs faces downstage, as if the audience were the accused. A single desk and ledger at center suggest order. To one side, a shallow landing and a short flight of implied marble stairs (suggested by light and sound rather than full set) lead toward the wings. The tree limb looms in dim silhouette upstage—a memory that won’t sit.
Lights: Cold institutional wash with pockets of shadow. During testimony, pools of light isolate speakers; the rest of the stage recedes.
Sound: A distant radiator hiss; the faintest winter wind under the doors.
adult Gene
By winter’s end, childhood was dressing itself in authority. We borrowed chairs and called it justice. We took each other’s words and called them truth. We were, in short, almost men—and sometimes that’s the most dangerous age of all.
(He steps aside. Brinker enters, carrying a ledger and a certain theatrical gravity. young Gene sits among boys in the semicircle. A tense hum of whispers settles into silence.)
Brinker
Gentlemen. We’re here to examine the facts surrounding the misfortune of our classmate Phineas. Not to punish. To clarify. Lamps in a dark hallway, nothing more.
boy 1
(uneasy)
Who made you… lamps?
Brinker
(pleasant)
The vacancy of adult attention. Now—Gene Forrester, will you begin?
(A pool of light finds young Gene. He stands, throat dry.)
young Gene
We… had a club. We jumped from the tree after dinner. It was—a ritual.
Brinker
And on the night in question?
young Gene
Finny went first, as usual. Then I climbed out to the limb to join him—so we could jump together.
Brinker
Did you?
(A beat.)
young Gene
No.
Brinker
Why not?
young Gene
I—lost my balance.
boy 2
(quiet, to himself)
Nobody loses their balance like that.
Brinker
Silence, please. Gene, describe what happened to the limb.
young Gene
It… it jounced.
Brinker
Jounced—by what? The wind?
young Gene
By me.
(Murmurs ripple through the boys. A chair scrapes; Finny sits forward in his seat—crutches leaning beside him—face tight.)
Finny
It was an accident. He slipped. We were stupid that night—that’s all.
Brinker
Phineas, your defense is admirable; your testimony, however, is not the one we asked for. We need eyes. We need someone who saw.
(He surveys the semicircle, then gestures toward the shadows.)
Brinker (cont.)
Leper Lepellier, would you step forward?
(A hush. Leper emerges from a side door. He looks thinner than before, eyes darting, yet there is a strange, crystalline steadiness to his voice.)
Leper
I did not want to be here. But I am here.
Brinker
Thank you, Leper. Tell us what you saw from the riverbank that night.
Leper
Two shapes in a tree. One golden, one… (he squints at Gene) …not golden. The branch held both until it didn’t.
Brinker
Did you see the limb move?
Leper
It shook.
Brinker
By the wind?
Leper
No. By a knee. A knee sends a small message. The limb answers like a telegraph. Then somebody goes down.
(A long silence. Finny shifts, pain and fury crossing his face.)
Finny
Leper, you don’t know what you saw.
Leper
I saw the truth. I always do. That’s why they didn’t want me.
young Gene
(pleads)
Leper—
Brinker
(To Gene, clipped)
Please let the witness speak.
Leper
(softly)
He shook the limb. Not like a plan. Like a thought that forgot to wear a coat.
boy 1
So—Gene made him fall?
Finny
Stop it. Stop this now.
(He tries to stand, grabbing his crutches. He’s unsteady, breath quick.)
Brinker
Phineas—sit. We’re almost finished.
Finny
Finished? Finished turning friends into spectacle? He’s my best friend.
Brinker
That does not preclude fault.
Finny
It precludes this.
(He pushes up, fury flushing his face. young Gene takes a step toward him.)
young Gene
Finny, please—don’t—
Finny
Don’t what? Don’t know? Don’t see? I can’t—
(he swallows hard)
I can’t hear this.
(He lurches toward the side door—the route that passes the marble stairs. The room freezes. Brinker lifts a hand as if to stop him; Gene is faster, reaching.)
Brinker
Phineas—
Finny
Don’t touch me.
(He pivots, misjudges, a crutch slips—the sound of wood skittering on stone, a ragged intake of breath, then a heavy, sickening thud offstage. Silence punches the room.)
boy 2
(whisper)
God.
(Everyone bolts upright. Gene is already moving.)
young Gene
Finny!
(He disappears into the wing. The assembly room remains, chairs shining under cold light, suddenly obscene. adult Gene steps into a faint pool.)
adult Gene
When a truth breaks, it doesn’t do it neatly. It takes whatever’s nearby—chairs, boys, bones.
(Lights shift—hospital light. A narrow bed. The doctor and nurse hover. Finny lies curled on his side, breath tight, leg twisted and splinted. young Gene stands at the door, blocked by the nurse.)
nurse
Not now.
young Gene
He’ll want—
nurse
Not now.
(doctor Stanpole turns toward Gene, gentler than before.)
doctor Stanpole
It’s a new break—bad, but not the worst. We’ll set it in the morning. Go rest. You’re no use to him gray-faced.
(Gene nods numbly. The nurse guides him out. The light narrows to Finny alone; his face turns slightly toward where Gene stood.)
Finny
(very soft)
Gene?
(The light cuts. hallway outside the room. A wooden chair under a bare bulb. Gene sits, elbows on knees, hands clasped so tightly the knuckles blanch.)
adult Gene
It is one thing to jounce a branch and another to live at the bottom of it. I learned to live there.
(After a long pause, Finny appears in the doorway, leaning against the jamb. No crutches. He looks smaller, but bright-eyed with hurt.)
Finny
They let me up for air. I wanted… not silence.
(Gene stands, can’t meet his eyes.)
young Gene
Finny, I—
Finny
Don’t talk yet. If you talk, it will make a shape I can’t unsee.
(He studies Gene with a tenderness that’s somehow fiercer than anger.)
Finny
All right. Say one thing. The smallest true thing.
(A silence. Gene tries, fails, tries again.)
young Gene
I… didn’t come there to make you fall. I didn’t plan it.
Finny
And?
young Gene
And something in me wanted—
(he swallows)
—wanted the world to be different than you. Than your… brightness. I don’t know the word for it.
Finny
Envy is one of the words. There are others. None are kind.
(He leans back into the jamb; the effort costs him. He exhales.)
Finny
All right. Here’s mine. I wanted the world to stay kind because I was. That was foolish. I forgive me for that.
(then, meeting Gene’s eyes)
Do you forgive you?
(Gene cannot answer. The nurse reappears; time is over.)
nurse
Back in bed, Phineas.
(Finny nods once, to Gene.)
Finny
Tomorrow then.
(He disappears. The hallway light lowers to a thin thread. adult Gene steps into it.)
adult Gene
We promised ourselves to tomorrow. As if tomorrow were a person who keeps appointments.
(Light shift: a brief return to the assembly room—the semicircle of chairs stands exactly as before, but emptier now, accusatory. Brinker enters alone, ledger under his arm. He stares at the chairs, at the space where boys sat and decided to be men.)
Brinker
(to the room, or to himself)
We only wanted the truth.
(He closes the ledger. The sound is small and final. He exits. The chairs remain.)
(Light returns to Gene in the hallway. Dawn leans pale through an unseen window. The distant tick of a clock.)
adult Gene
We only ever get pieces. A chair scraped. A word misheard. A step missed. The part of you that moves, almost—but not quite—on purpose.
(A soft hospital bell. The lights begin their transition toward Scene 5—a sterile brightness gathering offstage.)
adult Gene (cont.)
Morning came—white, blank, merciless. The kind of morning that believes in facts.
(Blackout.)
Staging Notes
Inquiry tableaus: Use pools of light to isolate speakers; the rest of the boys are silhouettes, creating a courtroom of shadows.
Leper’s testimony: He stands in a light that flickers subtly—suggesting a mind that sees in shards but, in this moment, speaks a sharp truth.
The second fall: Do not show a tumble. Use the skitter of a crutch on stone, a gasp, and a heavy offstage thud; a narrow spill of stair-light can flash across the floor. Silence lands like a verdict.
Hospital transitions: Snap to sterile white; then compress to a lonely hallway pocket of amber to humanize the aftermath.
Rhythm: Let Finny’s “smallest true thing” exchange breathe; it’s the hinge between trial and final reckoning.
Scene 5 — Death and Reflection
Stage: The space divides in light: at stage right, a hospital room (a single bed, a curtain, a small metal tray). At stage left, the Devon lawn suggested by two benches and a lectern that will later serve for graduation. Upstage, the tree limb remains, barely visible, like a thought you can’t quite remember. Between them, a narrow hallway zone: one chair, one clock.
Sound: Distant hospital hum; a ticking clock; then, faint birds at dawn intruding from the world beyond.
adult Gene
Morning arrived with its square jaw. I thought daylight would sort us, divide what was done from what could be mended. But day can be crueler than night. Night lets you lie.
(He steps into the shadow between spaces as young Gene enters the hospital hallway, sleepless. nurse crosses briskly with a basin. doctor Stanpole appears, tying a gown.)
doctor Stanpole
We’ll set it shortly. He’s steady. You can wait here.
young Gene
Can I—just for a moment—
nurse
Two minutes. Then you let us work.
(She parts the curtain. Finny lies propped, paler than before. The light on the hospital bed is clean and unforgiving. Gene steps inside.)
Finny
You look like you tried to fight the morning and lost.
young Gene
I did. It brought friends.
Finny
Sit. I’ll allow you to be glum for ninety seconds; after that, you must contribute to morale.
(Gene sits, can’t meet Finny’s eyes.)
young Gene
I’m sorry.
Finny
For being human? Noted. Apology accepted by the general authority of broken things.
young Gene
Not for me. For you. For what you believed.
Finny
I believe a lot. It keeps the world interesting.
(A small silence. He studies Gene.)
Finny (cont.)
Last night—what you said. That you didn’t plan it.
young Gene
I didn’t. But something in me… moved. I wish I could cut that part out and give you the rest.
Finny
I don’t need surgery on you. I need… (he gestures to his leg, a flicker of humor) …the routine kind.
nurse
Time.
(She steps in gently. Finny nods, then turns back to Gene, his voice softer.)
Finny
Here is my last decree before anesthesia: run. Run like you’re both of us. If there’s no Olympics, invent one.
young Gene
I won’t win.
Finny
Then be beautiful losing.
(They almost smile.)
Finny (cont.)
Forgive yourself, Gene. Or you’ll carry me like a weapon.
(The nurse squeezes Finny’s shoulder; doctor Stanpole enters behind her.)
doctor Stanpole
All right, Phineas. We’ll be quick.
Finny
(to Gene, a tiny mock salute)
See you in an hour. Bring jokes.
(Gene backs out. The curtain closes; the hospital light narrows. We hear the soft roll of wheels, the click of instruments. The hallway returns: Gene sits, elbows on knees. adult Gene steps in behind him, an echo.)
adult Gene
There are chairs designed for waiting and chairs designed for despair. Hospitals buy both in one model.
(A clock ticks. Far off, a tray rattles. A low murmur of voices. Then silence that isn’t empty—silence braced for news. doctor Stanpole steps through the curtain. He doesn’t speak immediately. That, too, is a sentence.)
doctor Stanpole
Complication.
(A beat. He meets Gene’s eyes.)
doctor Stanpole (cont.)
Bone marrow must have entered the bloodstream. It happens—rarely. We lost him.
(The word lands like a body. Gene stands, then doesn’t; sits, then can’t. The nurse has a handkerchief in her palm she doesn’t offer. adult Gene watches from the edge of light.)
young Gene
He was—
(voice breaks)
—just here.
doctor Stanpole
I’m sorry.
(He exits. The hospital light cools, gentles, then dims to a memory. Gene is left with the chair and the clock and the morning that won.)
adult Gene
I did not cry then. I felt as if his death had happened in my own chest, and the body does not weep for what it has become.
(He looks to the tree limb upstage; its silhouette feels heavier.)
adult Gene (cont.)
The enemy was never out there.
(Lights crossfade toward the Devon lawn. A thin brass flourish—school formality. The lectern stands; boys in coats gather; a recruiter shakes hands. The tree limb remains in the dim, a second horizon. Brinker approaches young Gene, who looks older by years.)
Brinker
They’re forming an enlistment group. I’m going. My father expects it. The nation expects it. Everything expects it, really.
young Gene
I know.
Brinker
You coming?
young Gene
Not today.
(Brinker studies him, softer than usual.)
Brinker
For what it’s worth—I didn’t mean it to go that way. The inquiry. We wanted the truth.
young Gene
We had more truth than we knew what to do with.
Brinker
Yeah.
(He offers a hand; Gene shakes it. Brinker moves off toward the recruiter. Leper appears at the periphery, hat in his hands, distant but calmer than in Scene 3.)
Leper
Snow’s melting where it falls. That’s new.
young Gene
It will be spring.
Leper
It will be something.
(He drifts away. The recruiter gives a curt nod to the boys. A brief bustle. Then the lawn exhales. Gene is left nearly alone.)
adult Gene
War was the shape everyone tried to fit into. I was already the shape of a different war.
(Gene turns away from the lawn and walks upstage to the tree limb. The light shifts: no longer hospital white or school brass, but something clean and ordinary, like the sun at noon on a day that hasn’t decided to mean anything.)
young Gene
You look smaller.
(He touches the bark. The river light shimmers faintly below.)
adult Gene
Memory enlarges what it loves and what it fears. The tree became both. Now it’s only itself again.
(Gene stands beneath the limb as if under a question. adult Gene steps alongside him; for a moment, they share the space—two versions looking at one object and seeing different sizes.)
adult Gene (to the audience)
I went to war later. I carried a uniform, a rifle, a pack. I did not carry hatred. I had already spent it. I killed my enemy here.
(young Gene closes his eyes; Finny’s voice—not an apparition, just a remembered line—floats in, warm as June: “Run like you’re both of us.”)
young Gene
I will.
(He takes a small step back from the tree, as if to make a starting line. His breath sets, calm. He doesn’t run—just stands in readiness. The adult Gene watches him, then turns to the audience.)
adult Gene
Phineas never had an enemy. That was his peace. Mine is smaller and less noble. It is only this: the knowledge of the thing in me that moved the branch, and the choosing, every day after, to be still.
(A breeze of sound through leaves; the river answers with a soft reply. Gene lowers his stance; the starting line dissolves into simply standing. He reaches up, lays his palm flat to the limb—this time, steady.)
young Gene
(quietly)
Not today.
(A school bell rings—once, then again—as if from far off in an easier century. The Devon lawn returns in a pale wash: two students cross with books and murmured jokes. Life continues with its terrible courtesy.)
adult Gene
Years later, I came back to see if the tree still spoke. It did. It said: ordinary. It said: wood, water, summer. It said: you lived.
(He lets the words sit. Then:)
adult Gene (cont.)
It also said: learn.
(He turns to young Gene. They meet each other’s eyes—one heavy with knowledge, one with the beginning of it. The light begins to close, first on the hospital space, then on the lawn, finally on the tree.)
adult Gene
Goodbye, Phineas.
(A faint, nearly smiling reply from memory: “Bring jokes.”)
young Gene
I will.
(He leaves the limb and walks, unhurried, toward the edge of the stage. adult Gene stays a beat longer, then follows. The tree limb remains, now in a simple, honest wash—as if it were only a prop. The river light fades.)
Blackout.
Staging Notes
The death is conveyed with the physician’s plain language and the collapse of hospital light—no melodrama, only the clean quiet of irreversible fact.
Dual presence of adult Gene and young Gene in the final beats invites memory-play resonance without literal ghosts.
The tree finishes un-enchanted: fully ordinary, reclaiming the title from myth, making Gene’s peace feel earned and human.
Sound is minimal: clock, birds, a bell—the world doing what it always does, regardless.
Epilogue
Stage: After Scene 5 fades, the tree limb remains center. A clean, simple wash of daylight rests on it. The Devon lawn is gone. The hospital bed is gone. Only the tree and the river’s shimmer remain.
adult Gene steps back into the light, older, carrying the weight of the story.
adult Gene
Years later, I tried to find what was left of that summer. The stairway was still polished. The tree was still here. But the boy who envied, and the boy who trusted—those boys had already gone.
(beat)
Phineas never had an enemy. That was his gift. Mine was to discover one. Not in Europe, not in Asia, not across any ocean—but here.
(he touches his chest)
Here.
(He rests a hand on the limb once more, not in grief now, but in recognition.)
adult Gene (cont.)
The tree no longer frightens me. It only reminds me. Of what envy can undo. Of what forgiveness can almost repair. Of the summer when we learned that peace is not given. It is chosen.
(He turns to go. At the edge of light, he pauses, looks back once. A faint echo of Finny’s voice drifts: “Bring jokes.” Gene allows the smallest smile.)
adult Gene
Goodbye, Finny.
(He exits. The light fades, leaving only the ordinary silhouette of the tree. The river sound continues for a breath, then stops.)
Blackout.
Short Bios:
John Knowles
John Knowles (1926–2001) was an American novelist best known for A Separate Peace (1959), his classic coming-of-age novel set at a New England prep school during World War II. A Yale graduate, Knowles drew on his own experiences at Phillips Exeter Academy for the novel. His work explores themes of friendship, rivalry, guilt, and the loss of innocence.
Gene Forrester (character)
Gene Forrester is the reflective narrator of A Separate Peace, recalling his youth at Devon School during World War II. Intelligent and introverted, Gene struggles with envy toward his best friend Finny, leading to an impulsive act that changes both of their lives. As an adult, Gene revisits the school to confront the guilt and lessons of his past.
Phineas “Finny” (character)
Finny is Gene’s charismatic, athletic, and carefree best friend. Full of warmth and mischief, Finny invents games, charms authority figures, and represents innocence unbroken by envy or suspicion. His fall from the tree, caused by Gene’s moment of weakness, becomes the central tragedy of the story. Finny embodies trust, joy, and a peace Gene struggles to find.
Brinker Hadley (character)
Brinker is a fellow student at Devon, sharp-tongued and authoritative. He acts as a moral interrogator, staging the trial that brings Gene’s betrayal into the open. Though often humorous, Brinker symbolizes the boys’ attempts to impose order and accountability on a world slipping toward war.
Elwin “Leper” Lepellier (character)
Leper is a gentle, eccentric boy at Devon, fascinated by nature and seemingly untouched by competition. He enlists in the army but suffers a psychological breakdown, returning with disturbing visions. His testimony during the trial exposes Gene’s guilt. Leper represents the intrusion of war’s madness into the innocence of Devon.
Leave a Reply