Smoking Hot

By: Colby Newbold

(There are two benches CS. A boy lights a cigarette. An older women enters from SR, digging through her purse. They don’t acknowledge each other. She pulls out a cigarette, looking longingly at the boys.)

Ms. Treik: Excuse me, do you have a lighter or match I could borrow for a moment?
Boy: Sorry, I don’t.
Ms. Treik: Oh, okay. Thank you anyways. (sits down on a bench, pulls out a pack of redvines).
Boy: Excuse me, but have I seen you before?
Ms. Treik: I’m a teacher at  the school. (Glances at him.) You probably don’t recognize me without my glasses and hair up.
Boy: (Peers at her). No way! You’re Ms. Treik, the new Japanese teacher.
Ms. Treik: Yes, and I happen to recognize you from my third period Japanese 4 class, Jeremy.
Jeremy: Wait, I uh, this isn’t what it looks like, Ms. Treik. I mean, I’m not actually smoking this or anything-
Ms. Treik: I’m sorry, Jeremy, but I can’t. If I see a student doing anything illegal, especially if on school grounds, I have to report it.
Jeremy: But, I only have a little over a year left. Can’t you cut me some slack?
Ms. Treik: I can’t, Jeremy. (Stand up to leave.)
Jeremy: How about this: I have forty dollars in my wallet. I can give you sixty more at the end of the week from my part time job.
Ms. Treik: I can’t take bribes from students, Jeremy.
Jeremy: (Glances around then sits on the other bench) Okay, I’ll tell you something I have never told anyone else before.
Ms. Treik: I don’t want to hear your secrets, Jeremy.
Jeremy: I have a crush on you. I saw you smoking during break a few months ago and I thought that if I started smoking too, I could meet you out here everyday, and that you would think I’m cool.
Ms. Treik: Jeremy, that’s enough! I don’t want to hear anymore.
Jeremy: And then I saw you this morning, sitting out here before class, and I knew that in another three hours, you would be back out here, and I could talk with you. Please, don’t go away, Tsukushi.
Ms. Treik: How do you know my first name, Jeremy?
Jeremy: I work in the office during my free period. I have access to the school’s files any time I want them. I know that you were born on May 17th 1989 in Okinawa, Japan. Your father was English and your mother was Japanese. But, your father was killed by a man in your neighborhood before you were born. When you were three, your mother fell ill and died by the time you were five. Your eldest brother was just seventeen at that time, but he stayed with you and took care of you. When you were seven, your brother went away to university and no longer had the time to take care of you, so you were adopted by a single, Japanese businessman who moved you to America when you were ten. By the time you were twelve, you could speak fluent English, and graduated from high school when you were sixteen. You went to Tokyo University where you studied Japanese culture thoroughly before returning to the U.S where you landed a teaching job at this school, New York International High School.
Ms. Treik: Jeremy, this is dangerous.
Jeremy: I don’t care if it’s dangerous! I love you!
Ms. Treik: Don’t say that! You don’t know what you’re saying!
Jeremy: But, I do! I have known for months! You’re everything I could ever want! You’re beautiful, and brilliant, and I always want to be around you.
Ms. Treik: Jeremy, please just stop.
Jeremy: I have tried, but I can’t. I can’t stop, Ms. Treik.
Ms. Treik: Let me tell you a story, Jeremy, about me when I was in college. I got my masters in Japanese language, six years at college. Tokyo University is extremely large, but even so, I was able to build bonds with a few of the teachers. My English professor and I instantly became friends. My third year in college, I was nineteen and my teacher was a mere thirty-seven year old. I had problems with an essay in my Japanese class and he invited me out to drinks with him to work over my essay. I took the chance, and he helped me. I pretended to need help more often, and, eventually, he invited me over to his house. I admit, I had a large crush on my teacher, and I willingly went over to his house. We worked on my essay, and I confessed that night at the door. I had admitted my love, and he willingly accepted it. I truly loved him, but we were caught kissing in his office by another teacher. Either I was kicked out of school or Sensei quit his job. Sensei left.
Jeremy: But, you loved him? And you didn’t follow him?
Ms. Treik: (Sits down next to Jeremy). Yes, I loved him very much, but I grew to let it go. Now, I just have fond memories. You need to understand the consequences of a relationship such as that.
Jeremy: But, I will make sure we don’t get caught.
Ms. Treik: I can’t allow this, Jeremy.
Jeremy: You’re just like all of the other teachers! I thought you were different, I thought that if I confessed, you would understand.
Ms. Treik: But, I do understand! I know what it is to be in love with someone that you shouldn’t.
Jeremy: Then give me this one chance! (He pulls out a folded piece of paper and sets it beside her.) If you understand, then you’ll come to my home. My parents are on vacation and won’t be home for a week. Please. Just learn to love me. (Exits US).
Ms. Treik: (Picks up paper, reads it.) If I go, I’m risking everything. I’m risking his happiness, my job, his life…my heart. I’m so gullible, so useless and I’ve already made one of the worst mistakes in my life. He’s just 17, just a boy. But…I’m only 22. Am I really an adult? (Pulls out a book, begins reading. A man enters SL and sits on the other bench).
Man: Excuse me, do you have a light?
Ms. Treik: Unfortunately, I didn’t have one earlier for myself.
Man: Oh, okay. Thanks anyways. (Silence).
Ms. Treik: (Looks up from book). Do I know you? You look very familiar.
Man: As do you. May I ask your name?
Ms. Treik: (Puts aside book). I am Tsukushi Treik.
Man: A teacher here?
Ms. Treik: Yes, I am. Who are you?
Man: I believe you knew my father. He was a teacher at Tokyo University.
Ms. Treik: (Looking closely at him.) Teacher…Sensei?
Man: He told me you would call him that.
Ms. Treik: Excuse me, but, why are you here?
Man: A message from my father. (Hands her a letter.)
Ms. Treik: Could you…read that for me, please?
Man: Are you sure? (She nods). Alright. “Dear Tsuki, if you are reading this now, I have passed away.” (Pause. She nods.) “My son, he is now twenty, agreed to take this to you. I never told you when we were together, but I have a puncture in my heart. It’s a miracle I ever lasted this long. When Jason, my son, was born, his mother died. Jason has never had a woman in his life, especially since he went to an all boys’ high school. I believe you are the woman for him. I miss you, and I’m sorry I never said goodbye. I always have regretted that. Please take care of Jason, for me.”
Ms. Treik: Did your father die in pain?
Man: No, he died in his own bed. His heart just stopped beating. He was scheduled for a heart transplant in a year, but it just gave way.
Ms. Treik: I’m really sorry, Jason.
Man: Shall we go?
Ms. Treik: Can I ask you something first, Jason?
Man: Yes? (Standing up.)
Ms. Treik: Did he ever say anything about me to you?
Man: “Smoking hot” is pretty much the only description he used.
Ms. Treik: “Smoking hot”. (Chuckles as she stands up) It doesn’t really surprise me. He was always the joker, making me laugh.
Man: (Picks up a piece of paper underneath the bench.) “Mrs. Salgry, Mrs. Middleton, Ms. Audrey” All of these names are crossed off.
Ms. Treik: Here, let me see. (Leans over to look at the paper.) These are teachers at this school.
Man: What do the stars mean?
Ms. Treik: They must mean how attractive they are. These are the teachers that the boys in the school have crushes on. Wait…that’s my name.
Man: It’s the only one not crossed off.
Ms. Treik: I recognize the handwriting. It’s one of my students.
Man: Who is it? (Jeremy enters SR).
Jeremy: Sorry, I went the wrong way. (Begins to exit.)
Ms. Treik: Did you forget something, Jeremy? (She places the paper on the bench.)
Jeremy: No…I swear, I didn’t do anything.
Ms. Treik: Come with me, Jason. I’ll show you around. (Exit US).
Jeremy: (Picks up paper, crosses off the last name.) Looks like there aren’t any teachers left. I guess I’m back to the students. (Lights begin to fade as he crosses the stage to exit.) Number one-hundred and thirty, Stacy Miller.