Raise Your Hand

Theater Assignment Number 12.

My Life in a Monologue.

I don't remember my life before her.

I also don't remember the day we met

or the day we became friends.

I only remember her always being there.

Lila's dad had been in prison since before she was born.

Double homicide, or so the witness claimed.

Now, that's all you two get.

I'll be back later.

Lila's mom was the real deal.

She would let us do the things my mom wouldn't.

Cheer, cheers.

- I secretly wished she was my mom.

Can you just talk to her, please?

Gia, are you in here?

Yeah, mom.

Your father's on the phone.

He called you.

Then why didn't the phone ring?

Gia, just take the phone.

Hello?

Hello?

We had no secrets.

She knew everything about me.

I knew everything about her.

- And I wrote it all down. - Yes.

My name is Officer James.

I'm with the Minneapolis Police Department.

Okay.

I regret to inform you that we found your daughter--

I was there with her when her mom's body

was found in an alley after she'd been missing

for three weeks.

She was never the same after that.

-It's closed. -But I have to pee.

I don't give a fuck.

Just use the one downstairs.

Yeah.

Thanks, Lila.

I needed that, you nasty little bitch.

Let me know when you want some more, boo.

So uh, what's up with you and that new guy, Wish?

I don't know.

Well, if you don't fuck him, I will.

You're so god damn foul, you know that?

Whoa, whoa.

It's all good. I got it.

Okay. We're good.

Hello, ladies and gentlemen.

Y'all going to class?

Thinking about it, Amaris.

Not thinking about it.

Hey, bruh.

Let's keep driving. It's a school zone.

Hey, what up, girl? You want to take a ride?

Okay.

Yo, my man.

I said, keep it pushing.

Hey look, her mom told me to pick her up, man.

It's fine.

He's my cousin.

Yeah, he's my cousin.

Family emergency.

- Lila. - What?

You don't have to do this.

He's my cousin, it's fine.

Your cousin? Really?

All right, everybody. Let's get to class.

Justin, Marcus, did I stutter?

Let's go.

"Justin, Marcus, did I stutter?"

Justin.

Today ain't the day.

If I write you a pass, will you at least go?

Can I have an extra one for emergencies?

You tripping.

I'ma give you this one pass

and go directly to your first period.

Fine.

Thank you.

I'm gonna check on you, make sure you got this.

Whatever.

-I'm just saying. -What?

-If she act like a hoe-- -She's not a hoe.

If she's fast like a hoe--

- She's not a hoe. - Bruh, your bitch is a hoe.

- Hey, hey, hey. - My girl ain't a hoe.

Not in my class, okay? Remember?

We do not call young women bitches or hoes.

-Thank you. -Okay.

-We can stop that. -But she is a hoe.

Don't call my bitch no hoe.

You know, you blinked.

Just sit down, both of you.

You guys, too.

Okay?

Gia, why are you late?

Oh, I got a pass.

Also don't forget to go support your south side Cyclone

baseball team.

It's the last game of the season

and we need to give them all our support.

Everybody, be safe.

Okay. Monologues, due today.

Who's got 'em? Who wants to share them?

Anyone?

Ten extra credit points to whoever--

- Oh, I'll do it. I'll do it. - Thank you.

- Okay. - Of course, she will.

"My life is cold.

Cold with no warmth to be found.

I sleep close to my dreams under the night sky."

That's all I got.

-So how is that? -It's good.

That's just 'cause her momma don't want her.

And she ain't got no home.

Justin, please. That was great.

That was not great.

And if you could write more for tomorrow,

that would be wonderful.

"My life is cold. I sleep at night."

- Bleh, bleh, bleh. - Anyone else?

Watch out.

Gia?

I didn't do it.

I got one. Check me out.

My life is filled

with dolla dolla bitches and hoes.

Okay. Sit down. Sit down.

You got no hoes.

It was nice, though. It was very performative.

-That was fresh. -We're gonna stop there.

Who here knows anything about the production of Rent ?

Oh, that's the one about the people with AIDS

and they be singing and shit?

Yes, that is the one.

- And we're gonna be writing an essay about

the struggles and the social commentary involved

and what you personally connect with.

God.

I hate this.

I wish your father was here.

He's not my father.

Gi--Gia, can you stop it?

-What? -Stop it.

What?

We don't even go to church.

Well, maybe you could have kept your legs closed.

-You can walk home. -What?

-You can walk home! -Mom.

Are you fucking serious?

Yes.

-Mom. -I'm fucking serious.

Mom.

You should stop talking to your mother like that.

Why the fuck are you sitting in the dark?

Where's mom?

In the room. Watch your mouth.

Wait, are you okay?

Are the kids okay? Is my mom okay?

Everyone's okay.

Okay.

Well...

are you leaving?

No.

Okay.

Well, I've got homework to do.

Theater Assignment Number 13.

Rent.

AIDS is just a fancy word for a death sentence.

And everyone out here knows what that means.

The word "rent" just means paying for the use of something.

Or paying for the use of living.

And it costs a lot for people like us.

We know how to fuck, how to love, how to hate,

how to hustle, how to lie, how to hurt, and--

and all of it comes with a price.

The only that's free are the stupid words

I can't stop writing.

And for what?

She snuck into a dark house.

A voice called out to her.

"A little late, huh?", it said.

Yo, what's up, girl?

Hey, Wish.

Now, where's your girl at?

I never see you two apart.

She's coming.

Now, so how do I get at you?

I've been trying, but you always seem busy.

Or do you got a man?

You know I don't got a man.

-Did you bring it? -Yeah.

Bye then.

Hey, Wish.

What's up, girl?

Party tomorrow? My house?

Bring your boys?

Aight.