Raising the Stakes Read Online Free PDF

of competition.
    I look up at my bulletin board. Sandra Oh’s brown eyes gaze back at me.
    We’ll see who’s not good enough.

Six
    I t’s Wednesday again, and I’m at practice, knee-deep in a Story scene. For the past few days, ever since my parents’ heartwarming display of support, I’ve thought a lot about how to be the best possible improviser I can be. The answer has to be in that improv book, so I’ve been practically glued to it, most recently rereading all the parts that talk about Story.
    Every Story event has to have a narrator who guides the story. For our team, that’s me, and the book’s been reminding me of ways to give my teammates solid offers and ideas they can use to develop the story. Today I’m getting my chance to try them all out.
    The whole idea of improv is that there’s no script. Every scene is brand new because you have to think up stuff as you go. For most events, teams ask for a suggestion from the audience. Our Story event is always about an unlikely hero—usually played by Asha—who saves the day. That much we’ve planned, but we ask the audience to suggest an unlikely hero, and their suggestions make our Story scene different each time.
    We know that sometimes an audience member will suggest a hero who suits another team member better than it suits Asha. Mr. J. has given us “Super Geek.” Ziggy is clearly the best team member to play that, and Asha’s not here today anyway.
    “Thirty seconds,” calls Mr. J.
    For three and a half minutes, Ziggy has been tearing around the stage, with Faith as his trusty sidekick, using his geeky know-how to save various characters from their crashed computers and slow Internet connections. Super Geek also has to save them from our accidental villain, Ignorant Man, played by Vern. For each problem, Nigel’s turned himself into whatever the scene needs—first a mainframe computer, then a software virus and now a satellite dish.
    “From two rooftops away,” I say in a serious scientist sort of voice, “Super Geek watches helplessly as Ignorant Man turns the carefully tuned satellite dish away from the building upon which its focused beam has been directed. Meanwhile, inside the building—”
    “Oh no!” Faith cries, jumping in. “Without a signal, the family that lives there won’t be able to watch the Jeopardy! finals!”
    Ugh. Those stakes hardly pass the “so what?” test.
    “Wait!” cries Ziggy. “Rip up that piece of sheet metal. I’ll use it to deflect the signal back where it belongs.”
    Faith throws her hands up in despair. “You’ll never get the angle right in time,” she wails.
    I step toward the imaginary audience. “Can Super Geek triumph and save the day yet again?” I say, all melodramatic. “Or is the innocent, law-abiding Thompson family doomed to spend the rest of their lives without Jeopardy! ?”
    “Never fear,” cries Ziggy. “I have”—with a flourish, he pretends to pull something from his pocket—“a protractor!”
    It’s an obvious final moment.
    “Aaaaaaannnnd scene!” we yell together.
    Not a bad scene. Probably not good enough to get us to nationals though. I wish I could watch a recording of it to see, but Mr. Jeffries nixed the idea of filming anything other than competitions. Still, I know a few things we should fix.
    Mr. J. seems pleased with it. “Very nice! Nice work, all of you! Chloe, I think you’ve been practicing your narration.”
    “You were like this whole other science-fiction narrator person!” Faith says.
    “It totally flowed,” says Nigel. “Logical and everything!”
    I grin. “I have been doing some extra reading.”
    “Attagirl!” Ziggy gives me a high five.
    I turn to him. “And your ending was inspired! A protractor—nice!”
    He grins.
    He didn’t do a perfect job, but he definitely had moments of darn good. I hesitate, then decide to say what I’m thinking. “I’m really glad you went to the math-angles thing at the end,” I say. “I kept