MICHAELA, a teenager sits down at a table center stage with a bowl of Lucky Charms. She begins eating. After an uncomfortable moment as she munches her cereal, she pulls out her phone and starts reading something. A voice comes from the Lucky Charms- FELICITY.
FELICITY: It’s rude to be on your phone at the table, you know.
MICHAELA: Oh, I’m so sorry. (puts her phone down) What’s your name?
MICHAELA: Hi. I’m Michaela.
FELICITY: So is anyone else up there?
MICHAELA: Uh, no, it’s just me. My friend isn’t at breakfast yet.
FELICITY: Oh, really? Are you studying together?
MICHAELA: Actually, we’re at soccer camp.
FELICITY: Oh. Wow, you’re one lonely kid, aren’tcha.
MICHAELA: I’m not lonely.
FELICITY: I can feel the loneliness from the dejected clanking of your spoon against this bowl. You don’t lie to cereal, kid.
MICHAELA: Okay. I’m sorry.
FELICITY: Don’t be. Just tell me a bit more about yourself. I’m here to help.
MICHAELA: Well, I’m fourteen, I’m from Minnesota, I have an older brother-
FELICITY: Not that crap. Tell me about yourself.
MICHAELA: Oh, okay. I’m a suburban white girl. There’s nothing interesting to tell about me. I’m afraid nothing interesting will ever happen to me. I only have one friend here, and that’s Grace, but she’s so popular I’m at the back of her mind. My soccer is mediocre. My vocabulary is mediocre. Also the night before I left Mom and Dad fought a lot and now I can’t stop thinking about that. I want a boyfriend but secretly I’m wondering if I’m gay and besides I know I’ll never get a boyfriend until I figure out how to use the damn eyeliner pencil I bought at CVS for four dollars yesterday. At least I got the guts to buy one. You see, I was scared the lady at CVS was judging me for looking like a middle schooler and buying makeup. And it was no magic, either. Still nothing interesting. And I hate this camp and now I’m talking to my Lucky Charms.
FELICITY: You’re actually talking to A lucky charm. I’m the rainbow stuck to the edge of your bowl. But that’s okay. You’re just stuck in a whirlpool of sadness that isn’t quite poetic enough to complain about but is still clinging to you like a damp beach towel from hell. That’s okay, because that’s what cereal is for. I could listen to your morning prayers and evening confessions and heavy nighttime cursing and I will remain the good, earthly cereal I am, and sometime in the near or possibly distant future you know you will be out of this mess.
MICHAELA: Am I allowed to take you back up to my room?
FELICITY: Of course. I’m just a lucky charm.