A door stands on the left side of the stage. On the right side of the door, a rug lays on the floor in front of a couch. An end table sits to the right of the couch with a book bag on it. Linda, 45-ish, sits on the couch with a book. Brandon, 17, enters stage left, rummaging through his pockets anxiously. He looks around confusedly and creeps up to the door, gently grabs the handle and eases it open.
Mae: (looks up from her book) Where were you?
Brandon: (looking surprised) Mom! What are you doing up?
Mae: Well, I couldn’t find you and I was worried. Where were you?
Brandon: Oh, uh… I just ran out to help Matt with some homework.
Mae: You know better than to leave late at night without telling me.
Brandon: I know, I’m sorry. I thought it’d only be five minutes, but (pause) um, I couldn’t find my notebook, and I was looking for it. And I realized I left it here.
Mae: You carry all your school stuff in that bag. How did you forget that?
Brandon: (nervously) Yeah, pretty funny right? (moves past her to the bookbag, looks at her, looks at it, then picks it up and turns his back to her as he rummages through it).
Mae: I think we need to have a talk, Brandon.
Brandon: (looking more alarmed and frantic while searching as she speaks. He drops the bag on the floor) Mom. (pause) You didn’t go through my stuff, did you?
Mae: No, but I think I would have a right to. You’ve been acting so distant lately, Brandon. Your father and I barely see you anymore. You’re out with your friends almost every night.
Brandon: (sighs and looks slightly relieved while still looking around for something) So, I’m not supposed to have a social life? I just want my privacy, okay mom?
Mae: (turns and looks at him quizzically as he continues to search) It wasn’t in there?
Brandon: um (pause) it was, but I’m looking for something else. Did anyone else open my bag while I was gone?
Mae: I can’t imagine why you think we would want any of your school stuff.
Brandon: Yeah. Mom, I’ll be right back. (to himself) Maybe I dropped it outside.
He rushes out the door. He pauses and scans the ground in front of him. His eyes light up as he seems to spot something and rushes to the left side of the stage and stoops down to grab something from the ground. He holds up a plastic bag filled with something leafy and green, smiling.
Brandon: Thank God!
Screeching tires and the ‘Whooooop’ of a truncated police siren. A door slams shut. Brandon looks to stage left, mortified.
Brandon: Oh, shit. (sheepishly) Hello, officer… (fade to black)