by Katie Nelson
I spun to face him. “One of us needs to be able to give a rebuttal today.”
Shaking his head, he turned his back to me and pretended to sleep again.
The bus slowed, pitching and swaying in the traffic that led to the Bay Bridge. It was light outside now, but the fog had yet to burn off, and the sky was the same hazy gray color as the churning water that lapped against the concrete piers.
Coach Watterson stood and the dull buzz of conversations stopped. Although he’d had time to calm down, his face was fierce. “All right. Listen up. We’re cutting it close. As soon as we get there, I’m going to check us in. Kelsey will give you your speaker numbers and pass out tournament schedules. Get your stuff, get off the bus, and get to the student center. First round is individual events. If you’re late, you’re disqualified.”
Without waiting for questions, he turned to the driver with more instructions, while Kelsey stood and walked down the aisle. When she reached me, she handed me a map. “Need a pen?”
I shook my head.
“Okay. Our school code is K. You’re speaker 22, National Extemp. And you and Boy Wonder are 101, Policy Debate. Let’s see if you’re as good as everyone seems to think you are.”
I scoffed. “And how am I supposed to win a round with that?” I nodded to the Duke. “Assuming he can even find the room.”
She rolled her eyes. “Relax. Debate isn’t until the second round. Get Garrett to steal some coffee from the judge’s lounge. He’ll be okay.”
I wanted to believe her, but when the bus stopped and we filed onto campus, the Duke still giving me the silent treatment, a part of me panicked. I didn’t need him to be okay; I needed him to be amazing. Tran was almost right. We didn’t just need to place.
We needed to win.
It was an unspoken rule that tournaments always ran late. We’d finished our first round of individual events, in which I’d managed to stumble my way through a speech about the need for renewable sources of energy, and were waiting for the debate postings to go up. I sat on a metal picnic table with other Bannerman kids, rereading my opening speech for the seven thousandth time. Across the quad, the Duke was surrounded by a group of girls who were laughing and twirling their hair and leaning in to touch him, like he was on one of those reality TV shows where you date a dozen girls at once.
Something hit the back of my shoulder. I spun around and saw Ben, Ian, and Olivia, my old teammates, holding a bag of those little powdered donuts and laughing. I got up and walked over, brushing the powdered sugar off my back.
“I can’t believe you,” I said, reaching into the bag. “Wasting perfectly good donuts. Where’s your social conscience?”
Ben pulled the bag away, but not before I’d grabbed one. “No poaching our food. This is half our team budget right here. Besides, I thought the Bannerman team traveled with its own chef.”
“Pierre only comes on the overnight invitationals.”
They all gaped at me. “You guys are too gullible. No wonder you never win.” I shoved the donut in my mouth.
“And there’s the Tanner McKay we all know and love,” Olivia said. “Cocky as ever.”
Ian shook his head. “I was hoping those Bannerman douches might have knocked you down a notch.”
I shrugged.
“Which one is your partner? Mr. Irons-His-Underwear? Or Mr. 32-Ounces-of-Product-in-My-Hair?”
I glanced over at Tran and Garrett. Their nicknames still fit. “Neither.” I pointed to the Duke. “I got that guy.”
At that moment, the Duke had one girl massaging his shoulders, another writing something—presumably her phone number—onto his palm, and a third wedged against him, taking a selfie with her phone. Ben, Ian, and Olivia burst out laughing.
“You’re partners with Most-Likely-to-Be-a-Politician-Involved-in-a-Scandal-with-a- Prostitute?” Ian said.
“I thought we were calling him The-Rebellious-Member-of-a-Boy-Band?” Olivia said.
“Wow. Your nicknames have gotten out of control.”
Ben held out the donuts to me. “Here. Take some. If you’re partnered with that guy, you’ll need any edge you can get.”
I reached into the bag and took a few more, glad to have a distraction so I didn’t have to talk while they made jokes about everyone on the Bannerman team. I took a bite, but my mouth was dry, the donuts sticking in my throat. It hurt, hearing them say what I’d been stressing about all morning. Ben had known me since fifth grade, had sat with me at lunch, and hung out with me in the rare times I wasn’t in the library or watching Sam, but even he didn’t think I could win today.
“Better wipe your face,” Olivia said, staring at a group of people standing outside the tab room. “Isn’t that your coach over there, talking to the Stanford coach?”
I wiped my mouth with the back of my hand as Coach Watterson approached, followed by an older guy with a thick, gray beard. I recognized him instantly.
Watterson motioned me over to the Bannerman table. “Tanner, there’s someone I’d like you to meet.”
“I’ll catch up with you guys later,” I said, then jogged over to the table. I tried to look confident. I hoped I’d gotten all the sugar off my face.
“Tanner, Bill Grimes, the coach at Stanford,” Watterson said. “I’ve been telling him about you.”
I shook his hand—firm, but not too tight—and made eye contact. “Nice to meet you.”
“You nervous?” he asked, as if he could read my thoughts.
“No.” I shook my head. “Just eager to get on with it.”
Both coaches laughed, and I relaxed a little, relieved I’d said the right thing.
“Well,” the Stanford coach said, “I’ve heard great things about you. Looking forward to seeing how you do. Guess you won’t have to wait much longer.” He nodded, pointing at a guy walking toward the posting wall with a stack of papers in hand. He struggled to tape the pages to the wall, swarmed by groups of students.
Watterson laughed. “We’ll let you get to your round. Good luck.”
I nodded and walked over to the posting. It only took a minute to locate our code. We were affirmative. I wrote down the building and room number, followed by our opponents’ code, E 101. When I got back to the table, everyone was packing up to get to the next round.
“Does anyone know what school E is?”
Blank looks all around. Figured. I’d find out soon enough. I slid my arms into my suit coat and grabbed the handle of the cart loaded with our plastic totes full of files. Checking the map, I found the building where our round would be held and started heading toward it. After a few steps, I turned to see if the Duke was coming. His harem was breaking up. I shook my head and continued walking.
Eventually, he caught up. “Hey, thanks for waiting,” he said, his eyes still covered by his sunglasses.
“You sobered up?” I asked. “Can you walk a straight line?”
“Can you say anything without sounding like a total prick?”
“Guess we’ll find out.” When we reached the building, I pulled the door open and tried to maneuver the cart inside by myself. I checked our room number. It was on the first floor. Luckily, I wouldn’t have to try to get our stuff up the stairs. “We’re affirmative,” I said, “if you care.”
He continued down the hall. “I know. Against a team from Sacramento. Public school. But they did pretty well at State last year. Quarterfinals.”
I turned to look at him, stunned. “How did you know that?”
He kept walking until he got to the door where we’d compete. Through a narrow window, we could see the other team setting up, a guy and a girl who looked vaguely familiar, though I was pretty sure I’d never competed against them. The judges hadn’t arrived yet. I reached for the handle, but the Duke stopped me.
“Look. I know you’re all worked up. If you’ll just relax, we’ll be fine. You can recite the stats better than the Pledge of Allegiance. And I can talk my way out of anything. Trust me. We’ve got this.”
<
br /> I stared at him and saw my reflection in the lenses of his sunglasses. I wanted to believe him. I really did. He had come through with the briefs last night. And though I hated to admit it, he did seem to always know what to say, what people wanted to hear. I pressed my lips into a thin line and nodded. “You’re right. Let’s do this.”
He held the door while I pushed the cart into the room. When he entered, everything changed. With the first syllable of his hello, he had the other team relaxed, and by the time the judges arrived, the frizzy-haired girl and gangster-wannabe guy we were about to debate thought we were their best friends. It was eerie.
I tried to suppress my nerves while the judges filled out their ballots, and the timer set up her stopwatch and timecards. Tapping the pages of our case together, I leaned toward the Duke and whispered, “I looked over the briefs you wrote last night. Impressive.”
He tapped his pen against his yellow legal pad. “Yeah. They’re not bad. But I didn’t write them.”
My stomach sank. Before I could question him, one of the judges spoke up. “We’re ready.”
I stood and walked to the podium, more nervous than I’d ever been in my entire life.
We shouldn’t have won that round. The other team had a Department of Education study citing statistics on the actual number of homeless kids, which stated that most attended school. It was more recent, from a credible source, and should have blown our whole case out of the water.
But that was the thing about the Duke. He could make you believe anything he said. By the end of the round, he had the judges convinced that even if we only helped one homeless child, it would all be worth it.
We won in a two–one decision.
After that, things got interesting.
Our next round was easy. We competed against two guys from Oakland. One of them had a stuttering problem that got pretty ugly when he was nervous, which was basically from the moment the judges entered the room until the moment they left. I wondered what genius had suggested this kid join the debate team. We could have really humiliated them. Instead, when the Duke stood to cross-examine the kid, he was friendly. He asked for points of clarification when he could have really confused the guy, could have pointed out all of the times he contradicted himself. So I took the same approach.
We were more confident. We were better prepared. And by the end of the third speech, it was obvious we had it won.
When the postings for finals went up, we were undefeated, facing a team that had traveled all the way from Reno. And we were affirmative again.
We had ten minutes until the round started, and I’d managed to talk Tran out of his laptop. I was searching for that Department of Education study, desperate to see if there was any way I could discredit it. Having already lost their second round, Tran’s only hope for an award was in his individual event, so he stood over my shoulder and suggested different sites for me to search. With every hit that turned out to be nothing, my blood pressure rose. My whole body was jittery and my fingers shook as they punched the keys.
Around me, the quad was emptying as everyone hurried off to their rounds. I snapped the laptop closed and handed it back to Tran. It was hopeless. I grabbed our cart and yanked it over the curb, tipping it onto its side. Barely suppressing my scream, I hurried to get the cart back together. The Duke ran out of the bathroom and joined me as we speed-walked across campus.
Wiping the sweat from my forehead, I reached the building, opened the door, and ran right into Kelsey.
“Whoa there,” she said. “You two look like crap.”
“Nice to see you, too,” the Duke said, flashing her a smile.
This was no time for flirting. “Final round starts any minute. The judges are right behind us. And did I mention that our whole case can be defeated with one piece of evidence? Which I’m pretty sure that guy from Sacramento gave to every team here by now.”
Kelsey turned to the Duke. “Get your stuff in the room. Tanner will be there in a minute.”
As he walked away, she pulled something out of her briefcase. “Let me guess,” she said, shoving a protein bar in my face. “You had nothing but chips, a candy bar, and a Monster?”
“Rockstar,” I said, opening the wrapper and taking a bite.
“That will help, but you need to drink some water, too. There’s a fountain at the end of the hall.”
I finished chewing, let out a deep breath, and felt my frustration heavy on my shoulders. “Doesn’t matter though. If they have that study, we’re screwed.”
“When was it published?”
“Three months ago. It’s solid. The only reason we won our first round is because the judges bought all of the Duke’s BS.”
Kelsey put her hands on my shoulders. “Don’t be an idiot, Tanner. Go on the attack. Ask them how big the study was. Question the methodology. Argue that it was politically motivated. Your stats are from a neutral third party. It’s all in your confidence. It’s your case. You’re the expert. Get in there and act like one.”
She was right. I didn’t know why I hadn’t thought of that before. And hearing that she knew we could do it, that she thought we could actually win this tournament, was like she’d lit a fuse inside me. I wanted to hug her.
Then the door opened and the first group of judges walked in, nodding and giving us polite smiles as they looked at the room numbers posted on the wall.
“Okay. Thanks. See you.” I said as I ran toward our room.
“Tanner!”
I turned. Kelsey pointed toward the opposite hall. “Water.”
I saluted her and ran to the drinking fountain. The judges were right behind me as I walked into the room, wiping away water dripping off my chin.
As we prepared to begin, the Duke leaned in and whispered to me. “You okay now, mate?”
I nodded. “You ready to win this thing?”
He smiled. “Yeah.”
We did.
“Where are we going?” I asked.
“Doesn’t matter. Away from here. Somewhere we can celebrate.”
I turned and stared out the window. Crammed into the backseat of Garrett’s SUV, with the Duke next to me and Tomas beside him, I tried to swallow my uneasiness. We hadn’t checked out when we left. It was almost eleven. Curfew was in an hour. And we were speeding away from campus.
The Duke bumped me with his shoulder. “We just owned that tournament. You’ve earned this. Enjoy it.”
I pressed back against the headrest and exhaled, taking a minute to let it sink in. He was right. We were amazing. I’d never felt as high as I had when they announced our names and we walked to the stage to collect our awards. Seated in the front row, the Stanford coach made eye contact with me and nodded as I returned to my seat. For the first time since I’d packed up my room over the summer, I felt like I could do this. We’d won. And we could keep winning. After this year, I’d be on my way. To Stanford. Then law school. A job in DC. Everything I’d dreamed of.
“I love this bloody song,” the Duke said, leaning through the front seats and cranking up the volume. Kelsey and Peyton were crammed into the passenger seat and protested, but neither adjusted the dial. We all sang along at the top of our lungs as we flew down the dark highway.
The song ended, and another played, and another. I had no idea where we were. And in that moment, I didn’t care. If I’d had Kelsey next to me, instead of a hairy, pseudo-British guy, I wouldn’t have cared if we ever got anywhere. Eventually, Garrett slowed and turned onto a deserted road.
We bumped along, through tall grass and over dirt and gravel, until finally Garrett stopped and cut the engine. Doors opened and everyone piled out. It was dark; there was no moon, only a few faint stars. I could hear the crash and pull of the surf, taste the salt on the air. I let the air fill my lungs and rode the rush of the moment. Pushing through the tall grass, we climbed over the dunes and finally stopped on a deserted patch of sand.
The Duke carried a cooler, Garrett had a portable speaker to plug hi
s phone into, and Tomas had one of those instant campfire logs they sell in grocery stores. With his lighter, he managed to light the paper wrapper, but a gust blew it out before it even started to smolder. I was pretty sure that in this group, I was the only person who’d ever been camping, but I didn’t say a word. I sat on a rock and watched Garrett try to collect dry grass while Tomas ordered the girls to block the wind, but each time he positioned them in the right spot, another gust would come from a different direction, extinguishing the flame. Kelsey and Peyton gave up, collapsing on the ground near me while Garrett scrolled through his playlists, selecting the perfect music.
The Duke stood apart, back up on the bluff, talking on his phone.
“He ordering a pizza?” I asked.
“Taking care of business,” Tomas replied, through gritted teeth as he flicked his lighter.
“Is he trading stocks on the Chinese market or something?” I joked.
“Something like that. Only he trades favors. And tonight, you are the beneficiary of one of them.”
I didn’t get it and turned to Kelsey for an explanation, but she shrugged. Garrett leaned over, almost across her lap, and explained, his voice low. “Look. The Duke has … connections. Tonight, he’s getting us out of curfew. Don’t worry about how or why. Just enjoy it.”
As I tried to make sense of what I’d been told, the Duke returned, putting his phone in his jeans pocket and pushing his hair out of his eyes. “What kind of a celebration is this?” he asked. “You’re all just sitting here.” He opened the cooler and started throwing drinks around.
Everyone opened their beer cans, except Kelsey, who caught a can of Diet Coke in the air. When he went to toss one to me, I shook my head. “What, you don’t drink?” he asked.
“Not tonight.”
“I only brought one Coke. Kelsey’s turn to drive home. Sorry, mate.”
I shrugged.
I expected something, teasing, or maybe more jokes about how I needed to relax, learn to have some fun. Instead, the Duke watched me, sipping his beer, and didn’t comment. We were forming some kind of truce, and I think he knew as well as I did that it was necessary for us to figure this out if we were going to survive the year. And, like always, Garrett, Tomas and the others followed his example.