A classroom. Rows of desks; a large teacher’s desk at the head of the room. A blackboard. Three windows on the upstage wall. At rise, MICHAEL, a boy of 18 with soft features and short blonde hair, wearing a shirt and tie neatly tucked into black trousers, is at the chalk board. JAMES leans on a desk in the front row. He is dressed just as MICHAEL, but his shirt is only half-tucked. JAMES sports a stubble and messy brown hair.

JAMES: That’s it?

MICHAEL: That’s it.

JAMES: Nothing else?

MICHAEL: Nope, that’s it.

JAMES: You just wake up. I mean, after all that, then you—

MICHAEL: Then I wake up. I’m sorry, man. But that’s what I got.

JAMES: But I definitely get her bra off. I mean, you saw that right? So, like, that’s pretty much—

MICHAEL: You get her bra off, and you lean in to kiss her, and that’s it.

JAMES: It looks promising? I mean, did it seem like, you know, that I was gonna…

(beat)

MICHAEL: I would say so.

JAMES: Shit yes! Oh man! Mikey, this is...oh man! I knew she wasn’t a fuckin’ prude! So, like, all I have to do is basically everything that you saw, like to the letter.

MICHAEL: I mean, it wouldn’t hurt to keep on that main trajectory, but, I mean, it’s what you would’ve done anyway. I see what will happen, so…

JAMES: (Jumps up) This is great. Oh, Jesus! I’m gettin’ laid man! Me and Becky Rogers in her mother’s bed! Oh, I could fuckin’ kiss you, you little psychic.

MICHAEL: You won’t kiss me though. I didn’t see that in my dream. You wouldn’t want to get Becky jealous, anyway.

JAMES: Wait, you saw this too? Like, you knew what I was gonna say and shit right now?

MICHAEL: More or less.

JAMES: You are a fuckin’ lucky bastard. You know that?

MICHAEL: It has its perks, I guess.

JAMES moves towards the door, opens it, and turns back to MICHAEL.

JAMES: I fuckin’ love you, man! (Exeunt)

MICHAEL takes in the silence. He stands at the chalkboard for a few moments, sighs, and crosses in front of the teacher’s desk. He sits. Another few moments. He crosses back to the board, and begins to erase what he’s written so far. The door opens, and SOPHIE enters. A pretty girl, dressed in a plaid skirt, shirt, and tie. She has a round face, framed by curly, brown hair. Her eyes are wide, but distant. MICHAEL stares as she crosses in front of the teacher’s desk to the windows upstage. She looks out. MICHAEL continues to stare. Finally, she turns to face him.

SOPHIE: Hello, Michael.

MICHAEL: Hi.

MICHAEL finishes erasing, and then begins to write again.

(Beat)

SOPHIE: So, uh, how long you think you’ll be able to keep sneakin’ out of study hall and runnin’ your, uh, little business in here?

MICHAEL: Um, well, I don’t know. I guess, um, until I’m caught.

SOPHIE: (Laughs) Yeah. I guess that would make sense.

(Beat)

SOPHIE: James looked pretty happy comin’ outta here. He was practically beaming. You dreamt up some good news, I guess, huh?

MICHAEL: Well, in a way, I guess.

(Beat)

MICHAEL: Him and Becky. After the dance on Friday. They’re gonna, well, they’re, uh—

SOPHIE: Gonna do it.

(Beat)

MICHAEL: Yeah. They’re gonna do it.

SOPHIE: That’d explain it, then.

SOPHIE crosses to the first row of desks. She sits at one. MICHAEL stops writing. He turns to face her.

MICHAEL: Actually, um, it’s not as good as it sounds. I mean, Becky and James.

SOPHIE: Oh?

MICHAEL: No. She, uh, he, doesn’t use a condom. She, um. She gets pregnant.

SOPHIE: (Laughs) What? You saw that? I mean, like, you could tell that she’s pregnant?

MICHAEL: Yeah, I don’t see it like real life. I mean, not like I see you now. It’s like an old projector. But with feelings, more than pictures. Like, I see people, and what they are doing, but I also see what they’re feeling. I mean, I feel it.

SOPHIE: And, James, he was happy about that?

(Beat)

MICHAEL: I didn’t tell him.

SOPHIE: Michael! What the fuck?

MICHAEL: I can’t tell him—

SOPHIE: You have to tell him! Are you serious right now? Michael, Becky gets knocked up. She’s 18, for chrissake!

MICHAEL: I know, Soph, I know. But, it’s more than that. You’ve gotta—

SOPHIE: That’s messed up, man. Like, that’s really heavy. Michael, he deserves to know about that. So does Becky.

MICHAEL: But does he? I mean, fuck. It’s my dream. I have the prerogative to withhold whatever I want…

SOPHIE: People trust you. They rely on you for advice, and you’re gonna keep something like that from your best friend?

MICHAEL: I’m not the one that’s going to sleep with Becky. I’m not the one who is going to say “Who needs a fucking condom?” That is not my fault—

SOPHIE: She can’t have a baby! She’s supposed to go to Yale next year. Michael, that ruins everything for that poor girl!

MICHAEL: Sophie, it happens all the time. Teen pregnancy isn’t anything new. They don’t have to have sex. The two of them choose to.

SOPHIE: He came to you. He came to you, and trusted you. Everyone trusts you, Michael! And you see this? And now is the time to keep your mouth shut? You’ve never had a problem telling your fuckin’ predictions before!

MICHAEL: It’s not my fault! I can’t help what I see—

SOPHIE: But you can stop it! Jesus, Michael. If you’re not gonna tell him, than I will.

She stands up, and crosses to the door.

MICHAEL: Soph, please. You don’t understand. Its—

SOPHIE: It doesn’t matter, because it’s not gonna happen…

She is at the door. She turns the knob, and begins to open it.

MICHAEL: I felt the baby.

She stops, and turns towards him.

MICHAEL: I felt it, Soph. Like, I could feel a heartbeat, or something. And it was so pure. So, like, fuckin’ happy. You don’t understand. I close my eyes at night, and I feel so much shit. Everyone that I even so much as brushed shoulders with, I feel their hopes, and fears, and I hear their thoughts, and I see all the fuckin’ bullshit that they’re gonna to do, and it’s just so, so damn shitty. And here I am, watchin’ the two of ‘em go at it, grunting and sweating, and then, out of nowhere, this like, light. This bright beam of, just, newness, like clean, and happy, and just so innocent. And it made all of it worth it. (Beat) I can’t kill that, Soph.

SOPHIE: Jesus. You poor thing.

She crosses back to the desk.

MICHAEL: Well, it’s not that bad.

SOPHIE: You’ve got such a responsibility. I mean, to handle that kind of knowledge. It’s like cosmic. Jesus, Michael. I had no idea it was like that.

MICHAEL: It’s a little tiring, sometimes.

SOPHIE: I mean, I thought it was just like a movie, or somethin’. Like you saw what would happen, and that was it. But, that’s…wow.

MICHAEL: You get used to it, I guess.

(Beat)

SOPHIE: Michael?

MICHAEL: Yeah.

(Beat)

SOPHIE: I’m proud of you.

(Beat)

MICHAEL: I know.

She crosses to him, and puts her hand on his cheek. Lights slowly fade.

END.