Free Raising the Stakes by Trudee Romanek

nastiest one.”
    “Sounds good,” says Nigel.
    We’re running out of time now, and Asha takes control. “I’m a little girl fighting villains with my sweetness, laying guilt trips, innocent but clever. You villains, especially you, Mark, be the total opposite. And Chloe,” she hisses at me, “stick to the story.”
    I nod. It’s a good plan. Possibly a great one. And if the story takes a wrong turn, I can get us back on track.
    We start the scene.
    I have to admit, Asha is doing a terrific job as our sweet little hero, skipping, twirling her hair, that kind of thing. One by one, I introduce some small-time villains—Faith as a mean girl, Vern as the neighborhood bully, Nigel as the pickpocket—then I move on to Ziggy as the fast-talking con man and Hanna as an out-of-control, demanding boss. Suzie makes quick work of each of them, sweetly pointing out the error of their ways. Asha is still playing the character beautifully. Our chances of getting to regionals are looking up.
    But I haven’t heard the ref call the one-minute mark. Did I miss it, or are we going too fast? Worry begins to pool in my gut.
    Hanna, the horrible boss, has already changed into a repentant model employer. I have no choice but to introduce Mark. “Suzie Sweetness waves goodbye to the newly reformed boss and makes her way to city hall,” I narrate, “where she runs smack-dab into the worst villain she’s come up against so far—a crooked politician known as Mr. Slimeball.”
    Mark steps forward and lets out a chuckle.
    “He takes bribes,” I say. “He pushes bad policies through to turn them into laws. He steals from the poor and generally does despicable things on a countrywide scale.”
    Mark snorts and belches his way into the scene, creating a completely unlikeable character. Silently I will him to draw out this final bit, to fill our time well. But all too quickly, he starts giving in to Suzie’s appeals to turn to goodness.
    “One minute!” calls the ref.
    No! That’s too long—we’re basically done!
    Asha knows it too. Her eyes open wide, but she has to keep going somehow. She turns to the now defeated Mark. “I’ll bet you weren’t always like this. There’s someone else, isn’t there? Someone even more despicable. Someone who pushed you to become what you are.”
    Vern’s evil-master idea. Brilliant!
    “Yes,” Mark sputters. “That’s right. It’s not my fault. It was because of my master!”
    He gets it, thank goodness.
    “My master was cruel and nasty and found fault with everything I did,” Mark continues. “Each negative comment was like a knife, hacking away at my good nature.”
    My mind is scrambling to figure out who can play the master that Mark’s describing. Vern, maybe? He knows the most about Emperor What’s-his-name.
    “Through fifteen years of constant, heartless criticism,” Mark goes on, blubbering now, “my evil master destroyed my soul and turned me into the bitter, angry brute I am today!”
    “Your evil master?” says Asha. She’s peeking around, waiting for a teammate to step forward as this new character. But no one does. Every team member has already been a villain, and they all stay glued in place as pieces of furniture in city hall.
    Ugh! What now? I look over at Vern, trying to signal him to reenter the scene as the evil master.
    Suddenly Asha’s desperate eyes latch onto mine, and she spins toward me.
    Oh no. Bad idea .
    I shake my head slightly, but she’s already walking my way.
    “I know this evil master,” she announces. “You must mean Chloe, the Criticism Queen!”
    “Uh…yes?” says Mark. It’s more a question than a statement.
    My mind is churning. I’m in the scene now?
    This has never happened before. If I’m the ultimate villain, how can I narrate my own conflict? Do I talk about myself as ‘I’ or should I say ‘she’? I have to make this work!
    Asha is standing a few paces away, waiting for a response.
    “That’s right, S-Suzie Sweetness,”