Need monologues for auditions that suit a teenage female? The following monologues from published plays are free to use for class, competitions, or auditions. I’ll add more as more of my plays become available for purchase.
“I’m Annie Jump, and this whole story is about me.”
comedic * direct address * smart * prickly
“I can’t tell you that. There’s a slight chance you’ll understand it.”
comedic * mean * powerful * challenging
“Occam’s razor. The simplest explanation is the best.”
comedic * panicky * in denial * stressed
“Shut up! Shut up! Just please stop talking!”
comedic/dramatic * angry * fed-up * righteous
Annie Jump, a 13 year old science genius, introduces herself.
Lights shift as Annie steps forward and addresses the audience.
ANNIE: Yeah. So all of that stuff was by way of introduction. I’m Annie Jump, and this whole story is about me.
I’m thirteen years old, I’m about to go to high school in the fall, and I’ve lived in Strawberry, Kansas for most of my life. My mom is from Chicago, but she’s dead now. I don’t miss her at all. I’m not mean or anything, I just don’t remember.
It’s not easy being a teenage science genius in a small town, especially when your dad believes in aliens. I try to take comfort in the thought that, even if he was totally and completely normal, no-one would like me anyway.
I mean, I have a 185 IQ, I got a perfect score on the SATs- last year, I put a hard boiled egg into orbit. Do you think there’s anything I could do to prevent Peter Stockholm and his cronies from stealing my gym shorts, besides being totally and completely someone other than me?
Didn’t think so.
Anyway, it might be packed with mouth-breathers and oil brats, it might have no Starbucks and only one yoga class a week- church basement, five pm, Fridays- but if there’s one advantage to living in the middle of absolute nowhere, it’s that Strawberry, Kansas has a dark-sky rating of two. And on the first night of the Perseids, when the moon is new.. there’s no city on earth that can compare.
If you sneak out of your room and go out to Hamlin’s field at midnight and look up, you don’t see planes, or pollution, or buildings glowing on the horizon. You only see the stars, and the meteors and…
What is that? What buttwipe is setting off fireworks during a meteor shower?
Alethea, a mindfurl of an intergalactic supercomputer (who looks like a teenage mean girl with awesome hair), responds to Annie’s questions.
ALETHEA: I can’t tell you that. There’s a slight chance you’ll understand it. I’m not supposed to reveal any truths or any information not currently known on planet earth. No telling you the answers to the big questions, no giving you alien technologies. It’s kind of like my prime directive.
Well, I can give the answer to one big question.
Are we alone in the universe? Hint hint.
I know everything about everything. But I also know everything about you, Annie.
I know what happened to your mom when you were little. I know your gmail password. Stardate 403604. I know your middle school grade in intermediate Spanish. A Minus.
I know your father used to read to you from “A Wrinkle in Time.” I know your grandparents sued him for custody when you were three and again when you were five, and again when you were seven. I know you were a muppet for your eighth Halloween party, yip yip yip yip yip yip yip…..
I can list all your father’s court-ordered prescription meds. I know the only solo you ever sang in grade school choir:
(she sings. Her voice grows eerily large, as if miked)
SOMEWHERE OUT THERE, BENEATH THE PALE MOONLIGHT…
You can’t ignore me, Annie. You’re the one. You’re the Chosen One.
Annie (13) has been told she’s the chosen one by a mindfurl of an intergalactic supercomputer contained in an eight-ball-shaped probe that fell from the sky during a meteor shower. She’s not on board.
Occam’s razor. The simplest explanation is the best. You’re an audio-visual illusion keyed to my perceptions. The simplest explanation is that I need help.
I can beat this. It might be a good sign. There’s a thin crack between genius and madness. Maybe I’m even better at math than I thought. I just have to stay calm, and get to a confidential professional. I’m not talking to you, by the way. I’m talking out loud, to myself. It’s totally normal. Some idiot set off a firework during the Perseids and I found this stupid thing and now I have a fixation on it. I’ll take it to school tomorrow, break it open in the lab, and prove to myself that it’s just an ordinary piece of sporting equipment.
(Annie snaps her fingers- she has an idea.)
I made it for my radiation project at the last science fair. I know it’s around here somewhere.
(She grabs a lead-lined box.)
Crazy Annie might need to be tricked, but Rational Annie is in charge.
Annie (13) gets fed up with KJ (14)’s musings on science and the stars.
ANNIE: Shut up! Shut up! JUST PLEASE STOP TALKING.
First of all, stop screwing up the curve of binding energy. Second of all, why do you think your crappy explanation of nucleosynthesis is going to impress me? Why do you think you can use science I already know as a pickup line?
And even if that did impress me, which it doesn’t, and even if you were cute, which you’re not, you are not a good person. You are being really, really, really mean.. To my father. Not to some rando, but to my dad. And it wasn’t even your idea. You’re weak. You’re a follower, and you’ve got no freakin’ empathy.
And let me tell you something about Dr. Alien, ok? He might be crazy, but he’s not a cynic. He’s willing to believe in something bigger than himself. And that makes him closer to greatness than you.
You. Will. Never. Be. Anything. Kenneth Jerome Urbanik.
So why don’t you run to your little friends, and come up with more little schemes to make Peter Stockholm giggle. I have real work.