Characters in Monster Answers

Read the excerpt from Monster.PETROCELLIWell, if you don’t know exactly where you were, can you tell me anyone who might know where you were?STEVEI don’t even remember where I was. When the detectives asked me where I was, I couldn’t even remember the day they were talking about. They didn’t ask me about it until weeks later.

Read this excerpt from “Poor Harold.”A room in Washington Square South. By the light of a candle, a young man in tousled hair and dressing gown is writing furiously at a little table. A clock within strikes seven.A door at the back opens, and a young woman looks in, sleepily. She frowns. The young man looks up guiltily.SHE. What are you doing?HE. (innocently) Writing.SHE. So I see. (She comes in, and sits down. It may be remarked that a woman's morning appearance, in dishabille, is a severe test of both looks and character; she passes that test triumphantly. She looks at the young man, and asks) – Poetry?HE. (hesitatingly) No. . . .SHE. (continues to look inquiry).HE. (finally) A letter. . . .SHE. (inflexibly) – To whom?HE. (defiantly) To my wife!SHE. Oh! That's all right. I thought perhaps you were writing to your father.HE. (bitterly) My father! Why should I write to my father? Isn't it enough that I have broken his heart and brought disgrace upon him in his old age –SHE. Disgrace? Nonsense! Anybody might be named as a co-respondent in a divorce case.HE. Not in Evanston, Illinois. Not when you are the local feature of a notorious Chicago scandal. Not when your letters to the lady are published in the newspapers. – Oh, those letters!SHE. Were they such incriminating letters, Harold?HAROLD. Incriminating? How can you ask that, Isabel? They were perfectly innocent letters, such as any gentleman poet might write to any lady poetess. How was I to know that a rather plain-featured woman I sat next to at a Poetry Dinner in Chicago was conducting a dozen love-affairs? How was I to know that my expressions of literary regard would look like love-letters to her long-suffering husband? That's the irony of it: I'm perfectly blameless.

Read this excerpt from "Poor Harold.”A room in Washington Square South. By the light of a candle, a young man in tousled hair and dressing gown is writing furiously at a little table. A clock within strikes seven.A door at the back opens, and a young woman looks in, sleepily. She frowns. The young man looks up guiltily.SHE. What are you doing?HE. (innocently) Writing.SHE. So I see. (She comes in, and sits down. It may be remarked that a woman's morning appearance, in dishabille, is a severe test of both looks and character; she passes that test triumphantly. She looks at the young man, and asks) – Poetry?HE. (hesitatingly) No. . . .SHE. (continues to look inquiry).HE. (finally) A letter. . . .SHE. (inflexibly) – To whom?HE. (defiantly) To my wife!SHE. Oh! That's all right. I thought perhaps you were writing to your father.HE. (bitterly) My father! Why should I write to my father? Isn't it enough that I have broken his heart and brought disgrace upon him in his old age –SHE. Disgrace? Nonsense! Anybody might be named as a co-respondent in a divorce case.HE. Not in Evanston, Illinois. Not when you are the local feature of a notorious Chicago scandal. Not when your letters to the lady are published in the newspapers. – Oh, those letters!SHE. Were they such incriminating letters, Harold?HAROLD. Incriminating? How can you ask that, Isabel? They were perfectly innocent letters, such as any gentleman poet might write to any lady poetess. How was I to know that a rather plain-featured woman I sat next to at a Poetry Dinner in Chicago was conducting a dozen love-affairs? How was I to know that my expressions of literary regard would look like love-letters to her long-suffering husband? That's the irony of it: I'm perfectly blameless.

Read the excerpt from Monster.O’BRIENNothing further.CU of MR. SAWICKI. He starts to leave the stand but is then held up by the JUDGE.CUT TO: PETROCELLIPETROCELLIYou said you’re a teacher in Mr. Harmon’s school. Do you live in his neighborhood?SAWICKINo, I don’t.

Read the excerpt from Monster.PETROCELLIMr. Harmon, do you know James King?STEVEI know him from the neighborhood.

Read the excerpt from Monster.STEVEI don’t remember seeing him play ball.PETROCELLIYou having trouble remembering what you’ve seen?STEVENo, but I’ve seen a lot of ball games. I watch a lot of ball games.PETROCELLIAre you nervous? Do you want to take a few minutes?

Read the excerpt from "Mary Louise” by Edith van Dyne.The girl they were discussing came leisurely down a path, her books under one arm, the other hand holding a class paper which she examined in a cursory way as she walked. She wore a dark skirt and a simple shirtwaist, both quite modish and becoming, and her shoes were the admiration and envy of half the girls at the school. Dorothy Knerr used to say that "Mary Louise's clothes always looked as if they grew on her," but that may have been partially accounted for by the grace of her slim form and her unconscious but distinctive poise of bearing. Few people would describe Mary Louise Burrows as beautiful, while all would agree that she possessed charming manners. And she was fifteen – an age when many girls are both awkward and shy.

In Monster, which statement best supports the idea that Mr. Sawicki's opinion of Steve is valid?

In Monster, what supports Mr. Sawicki's inference that Steve is an honest person?

Read the excerpt from Monster.PETROCELLIYou ever talk to Mr. Cruz? Osvaldo Cruz.STEVEYes, he’s about my age. I’ve talked with Osvaldo.PETROCELLIWhat did you talk to Mr. Cruz about?STEVESame thing, mostly. About playing ball, or the weather. Or what’s going on in the neighborhood.