by Katie Nelson
I turned my head, and leaned in closer. “Can’t you talk to her?”
Victoria shook her head. “She doesn’t care what I think. I hoped maybe she’d listen to you.”
“Right.”
She did her best impression of her cheer coach. “‘But you two were always close.’”
I laughed. Victoria smiled, then shook her head. Pointing at the door to the restaurant, she said, “Wow. Jealous, much?”
I turned in time to see Kelsey standing in the lobby, glaring at me. Before I could react, before I could get out of the booth, she pushed open the door and disappeared into the parking lot.
CHAPTER EIGHTEEN
KELSEY WOULDN’T ANSWER MY TEXTS. When I called, it went straight to voice mail. I was no expert on girls, but I gathered I was officially being given the silent treatment.
I skipped breakfast the next day, not because I was afraid of seeing her but because I was still wiped out from the night before. After we left Dairy Queen, I wound up driving the girls back to Hollister, a three-and-a-half-hour round-trip. It was almost two in the morning when we finally got back.
I waited until the last possible second to stumble out of bed, and managed to sneak into my history class just after the tardy bell. We were giving oral presentations, so I slumped in my chair and tried not to snore. Peyton got up to go first, and as she walked to the front of the class, she hit me on the back of the head. Clearly, word had gotten around.
When class was over, I waited while Peyton gathered her stuff, then walked out with her. “What was that for?”
She rolled her eyes. “Don’t act like you don’t know. I’ll hit you again. Harder this time.”
“It’s not what she thinks.”
“Really,” Peyton said, stopping in the middle of the hall. “So you weren’t on a date with some other girl?”
“No. I mean, yeah, we were there, but it wasn’t a date. She’s my cousin’s friend.”
“I’m failing to see how that matters.” Peyton turned and walked away. I had to hurry to keep up.
“It wasn’t a date. The Duke wanted to see Abby—”
Peyton spun and glared at me. “Save it. I don’t care how you justify yourself. Kelsey was convinced you were different—she had you on a freaking pedestal—but I knew better. Fair warning: I’m so pissed at you for hurting Kelsey. It’s taking every ounce of self-control I have not to kick you in the balls.”
I stood there, watching as Peyton walked away. This was bad. Sure, Peyton was a total drama queen, but she wouldn’t be acting like this if Kelsey wasn’t upset. I pulled out my phone and sent her another text as the tardy bell rang, even though I knew she wouldn’t answer.
In my next two classes, I tried to figure out a way to fix this. When Kelsey didn’t come to the dining hall for lunch, I started to panic. The Duke walked in late. I sent him a text as he waited in line. We need to talk.
He took his time, but finally he walked over to our table and set his stuff down next to me. Dropping into his chair, he leaned in so no one else could hear.
“Look, mate, he doesn’t know anything. They’re just threats. Let me deal with it.”
I stared at him. His shirt was wrinkled. He hadn’t shaved. And his hair looked wild—bedhead wild—not his usual artfully nonchalant look.
I shook my head. “What are you’re talking about?”
“What are you freaking out about?”
“Kelsey.”
“Kelsey? What did she do?”
“She won’t talk to me. She hates me. She thinks I was cheating on her last night. With Victoria.”
He took a bite of his sandwich. “Who’s Victoria?”
Now it was taking all of my self-control not to hit him on the back of the head. “Abby’s friend? From last night?”
He finished chewing. “I thought her name was Veronica.”
I clenched my fists under the table. “That’s not the point. You need to fix this. It’s your fault I was at that stupid Dairy Queen in the first place. Talk to Kelsey. Tell her it wasn’t a date.”
He took another bite before he answered. Though I didn’t think that Kelsey cared too much about what he thought, Peyton wouldn’t plead my case, and I didn’t want to drag anyone else into this. He was my only option.
“Sure. I’ll talk to her. Next period.”
I felt a little better. She’d known the Duke longer than I had. She had to know what he was like. And in a day or two, she’d cool down, and I’d be able to talk to her again. I reached into my bag of chips, stuffed the last two in my mouth, and chewed.
“Wait,” I said, hitting the Duke’s shoulder. “What were you talking about?”
He just kept eating.
“When you sat down? What were you talking about?”
He took his last bite of sandwich and balled up the plastic wrap as he chewed. “Nothing,” he said, shaking his head.
I didn’t believe him, but the bell rang, and in the hustle to get to our next class, I forgot about it.
The Duke cornered Kelsey on the quad right after lunch. They both walked into debate together, late—usual for the Duke, not so much for Kelsey. If Watterson noticed, he didn’t say anything. We had one more league tournament coming up before State Quals, and things were pretty intense. Tran and Jason had scrapped their case and were writing a new one, hoping that with the element of surprise, they could find some more success. It was a risky move. They’d be as inexperienced in defending their new case as everyone else would be in attacking it. But at this point, it was time to go big or go home.
The Duke and I spent the class period organizing our files. The last tournament we’d competed in had allowed laptops, so we’d thrown old ballots, flowcharts, and random pieces of evidence into our file and left them until now. The Duke handed me briefs, barely glancing at them, while I dug through the file folders, returning everything to its proper place.
After checking to make sure nobody was listening, I finally asked, “How did it go with Kelsey?”
The Duke scanned the paper in front of him. “Topicality argument. Pretty weak one at that. I’m surprised it worked.”
I took the brief from his hand and glanced at it. “It’s not that bad. And you didn’t answer my question.”
He shook his head. “It’s crap. Put it with the others that need work. And quit obsessing about Kelsey and focus. She’s fine.”
“Are you sure? She seems like she’s still angry.”
“Honestly, Tanner? When I talked to her she didn’t seem like she cared.”
I wasn’t sure if he was trying to piss me off or not, but it worked. I took the topicality brief and sat on the floor, staring at the words, my eyes floating over the sentences without registering meaning. When I spoke, I kept my eyes fixed on that piece of paper. “The definition is solid. It’s the analysis that’s weak. I’ll work on it tonight.”
Kelsey walked by on her way to the printer. I nodded. “Hey.”
“Excuse me, boys,” she said, stepping over one of our piles. It was the same thing she’d say to anyone on the team, but her indifference bugged me a thousand times more than her rage.
The Duke looked up at me once she’d passed. “See. She’s fine. Now about this spending disad—”
He was still talking, but I wasn’t listening. All the times I’d covered for him, all the times I’d helped him with Abby. I was always trying to protect the two of them. It had never dawned on me that I’d be the one to get hurt.
I looked across the room, where Kelsey was scribbling down notes out of Black’s Law Dictionary, her hair pulled up in a sloppy bun, her reading glasses crooked on the bridge of her nose. Could she forget about me that quickly? I went back to my filing, flipping through the case attacks. When I reached in to pull the piece of evidence the Duke had been rambling on about, I got a papercut on my index finger.
“Damn!” I put my finger in my mouth, sucking on the cut to try to ease the pain.
From across the room, Watterson
said, “Ten bucks, Tanner.”
Stupid swear jar. I reached into my pocket and found two fives. I didn’t even look at Kelsey when I walked past again.
The next three weeks were hectic. Watterson commandeered every minute of our free time. As soon as classes were over, we were back in his room. He timed our speeches, cutting a single word here, adding a phrase there, until they fit perfectly into the time we were allotted. We had practice rounds every day and when we weren’t competing, we were taking notes on the rounds we observed, writing our own rebuttals until our wrists were sore and our fingers cramped.
It was impossible for Kelsey to ignore me. The classroom wasn’t that big and we spent too much time around each other. Gradually, our conversations became less strained, but they didn’t go back to the way we were before. I missed her. It was strange, missing someone you spent hours with every day.
The night before our last tournament, Watterson kicked us out at ten o’clock with strict instructions to go to bed. As usual, our stuff was still pretty disorganized, so I stuck around to get everything packed into our blue totes and was one of the last to leave. When I walked across campus, it was dark. Rain was beginning to fall, and I ducked my head and hurried back to the dorm.
“McKay!” I was halfway to the stairs, when I turned and saw Rick leaning out of the RA’s office. He crooked his finger, motioning for me to come over. I had a different finger that I wanted to show him, but I turned and walked back to the office.
Leaning back in his rolling desk chair, he regarded me with a satisfied smirk. “I probably shouldn’t tell you,” he said. “You never cared when you were ruining my life. But just so you know, you might want to start packing your stuff. It’s over. I have proof.”
I rubbed the back of my neck, my fingers digging into the knotted muscles. I let out a long sigh. “What are you talking about?”
“Save the innocent act for the dean. I know all about New Year’s Day. And I can prove it was you two.”
The air was sucked out of my body. Every muscle clenched. He knew. And he was going to the dean, who would expel us from school. Somehow, on some level, I had known this was coming.
Swallowing the sick feeling that was building inside me, I bluffed. “I have no idea what you’re talking about.”
He laughed, his head thrown back, and I could see his Adam’s apple bobbing under his pasty white skin. I wanted to hit him right in that spot. I wanted to hurt him before he could ruin my life.
“You and your buddy thought of everything didn’t you? Well, the security camera has a backup video. And it’s got you two entering and leaving the building.”
I didn’t move. I didn’t know what to say. I didn’t want to believe that this was happening. Then Rick laughed again, a high, nasal sound, and I jogged down the hall, taking the stairs two at a time, until I was on the third floor, pounding on the Duke’s door.
CHAPTER NINETEEN
I WAS A MESS.
I hadn’t slept more than a couple hours, and when the alarm rang at five-thirty, I was still slightly comatose. In my hurry to get to the bus on time, I’d cut myself shaving. I didn’t realize it until I was almost out the door, and by then, I’d bled all over the only ironed shirt I had. So as I sat on the bus headed for this tournament, I had a huge scab on my neck, was wearing the least wrinkled of all my wrinkled shirts, and running through my head on a continual loop was my mom’s reaction—the way she’d look when she found out I’d been expelled.
The night before, I’d rehashed Rick’s conversation with the Duke over and over again. Rick had confronted him weeks ago, but the Duke hadn’t worried about it because he didn’t think Rick had any proof. He tried to convince me Rick wouldn’t go through with it, but I could tell he was concerned. A little after one, I’d gone back to my room, with the Duke’s promise that he’d take care of everything ringing in my ears.
I didn’t believe him.
Traffic was slow, especially once we hit the bridge, and it took an hour to get to Hayward, where the tournament was held. I spent the bus ride pretending to sleep, but once we were off the freeway, the whole team transitioned into competition mode. From the middle of the bus, the Dramatic and Humorous Interp competitors broke into vocal warm-ups, including voices and accents that became more animated and intense the closer we got to the school. Watterson moved from group to group, giving speaker codes, last minute instructions, and his version of a pep talk.
When Watterson got to the row where the Duke and I were sitting, each slumped against the window on opposite sides of the aisle, he looked at us for a long minute, eyes moving from the Duke, to me, and back again. I wasn’t sure what he was seeing—or not seeing—but it was clear that something was off. I wondered if he knew.
When Watterson finally spoke, he was all business. “There’s nobody at this tournament that you can’t beat. Remember that. Work together. Trust each other. I expect you both to get on this bus tonight carrying trophies.”
We nodded. Watterson handed us schedules, a map, and rattled off our codes. Though we were both entered in individual events as well, we knew those were secondary. We were here to debate. We were here to win. As we stepped off the bus and gathered our stuff, I thought about what Watterson had said. Trust each other. I’d done that, and look where it had gotten me.
Round one was individual events. This was the first tournament where I hadn’t walked to the prep room with Kelsey. We were both entered in Extemp, which met a half-hour before the round started so we could draw topics and prepare speeches. When I walked into the room she was already there in front of our table, flipping through the file we’d prepared with articles organized according to current event topic.
“Hey,” I said, setting my backpack down on the floor.
She looked up and nodded, but didn’t speak.
“You ready?” I asked. “For today?”
“As ready as I can be,” she said. “I’m first speaker, so I don’t have much of a choice.”
“You’ll be amazing. You always are.”
She looked over at me and smiled, the first genuine smile I’d seen in weeks. “Well, it’s not hard to beat you. You’re pathetic.”
“Pathetisad.”
“Exactly.”
The proctor made us all take our seats and the room went silent as we waited until it was our turn to draw topics. Kelsey’s number was called, and I flashed her a thumbs-up as she walked to the table at the front and drew three slips of paper. I watched as she read each one, bit her bottom lip, then put two of the slips back and showed the proctor which topic she’d be using.
It was hard to watch her without remembering how good we had been. And it wasn’t the big moments, like our first kiss. It was the memories of her that I couldn’t get out of my head, that snuck up when I was least expecting them. Like the time she quoted the entire Gettysburg address, word for word. I don’t even remember how it came up, but I had been sitting across from her at lunch, and Tran had pulled out his history book to make sure she didn’t screw it up. All I could do was watch her lips move, watch the tilt of her head as she got to the end. I had realized that I was holding my breath, waiting for those words about our nation not perishing from the earth, transfixed by her voice.
It had been three weeks since we’d fought. I couldn’t even call it a breakup because I wasn’t sure if we had ever really been together. I still wasn’t over her. Maybe it was better this way. When the news got out—when I was expelled and possibly worse—maybe it would be easier for Kelsey because of these weeks away from me. Because, in the harsh light of morning as I thought about Rick and everything I’d done, I knew there was no way out of this. At least not for me.
But I still hated that this was the way I’d be leaving. That Kelsey would remember me as a cheater—if not with Victoria, then certainly at school. I’d made plenty of mistakes, but that wasn’t who I was.
As I sat in the Extemp prep room, thumbing through Time, I realized that I wanted a chance to expl
ain everything. I had to talk to her. I had to try.
The proctor called my number and I walked to the front of the room. After reading each topic, I chose the first one and went back to my seat. When I pulled out my legal pad and started to write key points, my hand started shaking.
Three rounds of individual events. Three debate rounds. Awards.
I ducked my head and forced my eyes to focus on the words in front of me.
As I did at the end of every round, before setting my stuff down, before finding my teammates, I checked the postings. Each time, my breath caught for a moment while I scanned the sheets of paper flapping in the wind, smelling the permanent markers that had seeped into the pulp, awaiting those tiny letters that dictated my fate.
There was nothing new. Just the scores from our first debate round that I’d already seen and our speaker rankings from the first two rounds of individual events, which I never bothered to check. The Duke and I had won the first round easily, but I was anxious about the second. The two guys we were competing against were spreaders—speed debaters who talked a million miles a minute. Their strategy was to throw more arguments out than we could possibly answer. Usually, it only worked at invitationals where the judges were experienced debaters and not somebody’s grandma or next-door neighbor. The thing about debate was that you never really knew.
I peeked through the windows into the cafeteria, finding the table our team had staked out. There were backpacks and jackets, books and trash all over the place, but no Kelsey. I wandered over to the food line and decided I’d better eat while I had the chance.
The pizza was cold, but I ate it anyway. I wandered around campus, and ended up outside the room where Kelsey was speaking. Though her voice was muffled, I could hear her through the door. I waited, leaning against the row of lockers outside, until the murmuring quieted and the door opened.
“Hey.”
She jumped. “Geez! You stalking me now?”
“Sorry.” I looked down at my hands, at the blue ink smudged on my fingertips.