The bell rings. It’s time to meet my fate. I’ve prepared as much as possible without overdoing it and coming off too practiced. It should feel fresh. This monologue especially needs to be raw—and that’s hard to fake. I find a desk in the front row. My lunch buds can laugh at me all they want, but the pressure is undeniable. I want to prove that I deserve to be at this school. A few weeks ago, I didn’t know the School of Performing Arts existed, and now I can’t imagine my life without it. I’m on my path, and I can’t mess this up.

Mr. Daniels enters (two minutes late) and settles into his chair. “The first day of monologues set a high bar. I look forward to more today.” He scans a sheet on his desk. “Timothy? Are you ready?”

After about five monologues, Mr. Daniels looks up from his sheet with a big smile. “August, please step up to the stage. Mr. Greeeeeeeene,” he sings.

As I take the stage, Mr. Daniels flips to a fresh page in his notebook. “And what will you be performing for us today?”

I straighten up my spine and stand as tall as possible. I lift my chin up. “I’ll be doing a scene from Full Metal Jacket.”

The class looks confused. They probably don’t know the movie. It’s from the 80s, and it’s about marines training under the hand of a spiteful commander. I wanted to pick something to show just how serious I am. “This should be good,” Mr. Daniels says while scribbling in his notebook.

I am the Soldier. I’m in boot camp, preparing to go to war. I would die for my country, even though I haven’t lived yet. I believe in what I’m doing, and what the marines are training me to be.

I turn around and slam my feet together. I hold my arm down by my side like it’s cupping the bottom of a rifle. I put my other arm across my chest, gripping my imaginary weapon. I need to command the room. I focus my eyes on a poster on the far wall.

“THIS IS MY RIFLE. THERE ARE MANY LIKE IT, BUT THIS IS MINE,” I begin, loud enough to wake up the room. I keep every muscle in my body tight. I am at attention. I’m headed to war. “MY RIFLE IS MY BEST FRIEND. IT IS MY LIFE.” I keep my voice steady and loud. Barking, almost. My words speed up. I remain still, using my eyes to convey the emotion. “WITHOUT ME, MY RIFLE IS USELESS. WITHOUT MY RIFLE, I AM USELESS.” I’m hitting the loudest I can go. There’s a good chance other classes can hear me.