Dylan’s Room

Dylan's Room

by Hannah Chung


Rowdy, vaguely electric music and a fan. Pink bedsheet, a half-busted pink mirror, and unmade matching quilts. DYLAN is sprawled across her bed. She is painting her toenails a dark blue-green. It’s a hot, humid day. A poster of Kelly Oubre Jr. slides off the wall. 


Taped-up paper cutouts of various landscapes from nature magazines frame large windows. The closet doors have been jammed open, and pastel piles of clothing leak onto the carpeted floor. Large bookshelves lean on two walls. 


Enter JORDAN — hair half straightened, clearly in a hurry. 

DYLAN: Why, hello dear sister. To what do I owe this great pleasure to? 

JORDAN (sweetly): Hello my dear dear dear Dylan. The girls are coming in 10 and so I need my pink tank right now

DYLAN: What pink tank, if I may ask? 

JORDAN: Drop the act, dimwit. The one I bought, like, a month ago. God. Hurry up, I know you have it.

DYLAN: Madam, I’ve never seen a pink tank top in my life. What even is a tank top? I swear by the Holy Ghost— 

JORDAN: That’s my nail polish too. My God, you make my existence miserable. 

DYLAN: Mmm. Is that so? 

JORDAN: Oh my god. I’m going through your closet if you don’t tell me where it is. And— I won’t pick up the clothes, either. DYLAN: Putting on airs now, are we? 

JORDAN (sifting through closet): Oh my god, literally all of this is mine… mine, mine, mine — I’ve been looking for these pants for like, a week. I’m taking all of it when I come back. Just tell me where the top is and I’ll leave you alone. 

DYLAN: I may have let our dear friend Jessica borrow it. However, my memory is a bit hazy, if— 

JORDAN: No you didn’t. Dylan, are you— 

DYLAN: Oh, yes. Your word reigns supreme in this household, dear sister. Yes. That is correct. I did not let dear Jessica borrow the pink top you seemed to have been wanting. 

JORDAN: Stop it. You absolute demon. Jessica

DYLAN (sitting up): Yeah, and what about it? 

JORDAN: I love that girl, but like, honestly, if we never talked again, I would be so much happier. Genuinely. She’s so pretty though. But like, such— 

DYLAN: Okay… she drives, though. Where’s your license? JORDAN: You disloyal— you— you would betray your own sister for a ride? You’re crazy.

DYLAN (dryly): Oh no. Boo hoo. 

JORDAN: That Jessica girl though. Oh my god. You know what she said to me yesterday? 

DYLAN (buffing toenails with a mini nail filer): What? JORDAN: God! When I tell you she’s such a sicko… (pausing to frown and fix hair in the mirror) okay, so like, we were out last night. And I was under the impression that she drove, right? Like, what normal person who can drive doesn’t drive places? The point of driving is to drive. 

DYLAN: Where’d you go again? 

JORDAN: The yogurt place downtown. 

DYLAN: Maybe she didn’t want to park downtown. Besides, what’s the biggie? So she didn’t drive. Who cares? 

JORDAN: Well, if you would let me finish. God! 

DYLAN: Okay, okay. Go on. 

JORDAN: Well, everyone was there. And, like— 

DYLAN: You’re actually horrid at talking. Or at least telling stories. By everyone do you mean everyone everyone or just your little boy toy? 

JORDAN: Oh my god. I meant— okay, well not everyone. I meant that Will was there, but he’s not my boy toy. You’re horrid, oh my god. DYLAN: Mmm. Okay. Next. 

JORDAN: Well, so I was talking to Will. And Jessica was just there, it was so annoying. Not that she can’t talk to him. She can talk to whoever she wants, I literally don’t care. But like, I just don’t enjoy being near her.

DYLAN: Wasn’t she working? 

JORDAN: Okay, but she ended her shift. Like, fifteen minutes into my conversation with Will. So she could have left. What kind of freak stays around where they work after their shift ends? DYLAN: Maybe she wanted to talk to Will too. 

JORDAN: Okay… I never said she couldn’t. 

DYLAN: Yeah. I know you didn’t. 

JORDAN: I was just clarifying. I don’t like Will, you know. DYLAN: I know. You’ve told me that. But it’s okay if you do. JORDAN: I don’t. 

DYLAN: I know. I’m just saying. 

JORDAN: Okay. 

brief silence, then DYLAN (gently): So, what happened with Jessica next? 

JORDAN: Well, she was flirting with Will. 

DYLAN: Mmm. And so what’d you do? 

JORDAN: So I said I was going to go home to prep for the environmental science club fundraiser. 

DYLAN: The bake sale? Wednesday? 

JORDAN: Yeah. I’m making brownies and stuff. Tonight. Or I was going to. I don’t know, I still have to figure it out. But I said I was going home and then Will said he’d drive me up. 

DYLAN (impishly): Oh? 

JORDAN: Don’t oh me, it was nothing. Really nothing. DYLAN: But you don’t want it to be?

JORDAN: Anyway. He said he would drive me and Jessica said she didn’t drive either and wanted a ride. And so Will dropped me off first because she lives further up. And that’s it and I have to go. DYLAN: Oh. 

JORDAN: The oh’s are so annoying, I hate it. 

DYLAN: Oh. I hate you. 

JORDAN: Good. 

DYLAN: The pink tank’s in the laundry hamper. 



JORDAN: Your nail polish is cute. 

DYLAN: It’s yours. 

JORDAN: I know. 

DYLAN: You’re going out with Will tonight? 

JORDAN: What? 

DYLAN: So I’m right! Don’t be so nervous. I can tell you are. He likes you. I can tell that, too. You two lack all subtlety. JORDAN: Oh my god, Dylan. 

DYLAN (laughing): I knew it. I’m too damn good. 

JORDAN: It’s just to plan the bake sale. 

DYLAN: Whatever you say! Can’t believe you would lie to me like that, though. “I’m going out with the girls” — who am I? Mom? I want to know everything when you come back. 

JORDAN: It’s nothing! Really it’s nothing.

DYLAN: It’s nothing… and you smell like my perfume. The jasmine one I haven’t seen in two weeks. But anyway. Like I said! Have fun. With your little boy toy. Soon to be boyfriend? 

JORDAN: Oh my god! 

DYLAN: You two can be the next Marie Curie and what’s-his-name Curie. Or Jane Goodall and plus one. Oh— he could be an orangutan. JORDAN: Gorilla, for your information. And Pierre Curie. DYLAN: Pierre is an ugly name. 

JORDAN: So is Dylan. 

DYLAN: Get out of my room. Is Will picking you up soon? JORDAN: Yes. At… 5. 

DYLAN: It’s 4:57. 


DYLAN: So soon. I caught you at a good time. 

JORDAN: Yes. I guess. 

DYLAN: Don’t be nervous again. 

JORDAN: I’m not. I’m not. Honestly. It’s nothing, and like, we’re just hanging out. Friends hang out. I mean, we’re not even friends. I don’t really know him. We’re just hanging out. 

The doorbell rings. 

DYLAN: Friends. Right. 

JORDAN: I have to go. 

DYLAN: The tank’s in the hamper, like I said. He’ll wait. Want me to answer the door? 

JORDAN: Your nail polish isn’t dry yet. 

DYLAN: I know. Want me to?

JORDAN: Oh. I think it’s fine. This is fine. I’m fine. We’re fine! DYLAN: Yes. You’re fine. 

JORDAN: I’m not very good at this. I think I should be. I’m older than you and you’re better at this than me. 

DYLAN. That’s because all you do is read National Geographic magazines in your room and then cut pieces out of them. But it’s fine because so does Will. 

JORDAN: No, he reads Scientific American. 

DYLAN: Yeah. My point stands. 

JORDAN: I have to go. 

DYLAN: You’ll go. You’ll have fun and so will Will. Will Will. Odd name. Anyway, I’ll hear about it tonight. After. You should go. JORDAN: Okay. 

DYLAN: I’ll let Jessica know! 

JORDAN: Oh my god. Don’t. You wouldn’t. Dylan. You can’t. DYLAN: Just joking! Leave. Get out! 

JORDAN: I am, I am.