by Chad Morris
“You can talk with me whenever you need,” Meg said.
That sounded perfect. “Thanks.”
I sat there for just a few minutes more, then went home. I still had a debate to prepare.
Willa Twitchell, Journal #5, a week and a half ago
A while ago, I watched this video of a pod of orcas. They moved perfectly together. Like completely synchronized. You would have thought they were competing in the Olympics. In and out, they moved together, and although it was amazing, I couldn’t help but feel like they were headed for trouble. Like the boys who roam the halls at school in a straight line so that nobody can pass by them. Or the girls who go to the dances in herds so that everyone else feels like a loser.
That’s not entirely fair to orcas. They are hunters and always will be. It’s like hating a grizzly bear because it’s a grizzly bear, or a puma because it’s a puma.
But I do have problems with those boys in the hall and those girls at the dances. I don’t think they have to be that way.
“Okay,” Mr. Norton said, “it’s debate time.”
Mr. Norton had Lizzy and Kaycen sit on one side of the front of the room while Jarom and I sat on the other.
I had to win this.
I had stayed up late trying to study, which was really hard with everything else going on in my mind. I couldn’t stop thinking about Marc and the swim team. And my talk with Meg. But if I could beat Lizzy Wallace today, I would have at least something beautifully right in my life. Something worth celebrating.
“You remember the format,” Mr. Norton said. “It’s in your worksheets. Members of the team will alternate addressing us, then the structure will open up.” He looked out at the class and then back at us. “The debate question was: Are video games and screens bad for children? Why don’t we start with the affirmative team—saying screens are bad.”
That was us.
I stood up and held my notebook. I didn’t need it for notes or anything. I thought it made me look more prepared. “Study after study has shown that screen time, including video games, can cause problems with children. Lots of problems. For example, screens are addictive and could be just as addictive as chocolate, soda, and even drugs. When you play a video game or use social media, your brain releases a chemical called dopamine that makes you feel happy.” I had looked up how to say that big word and practiced saying it out loud. I needed to sound smart. I thought it was working. “And that chemical makes you want more. Many people use their screens well past a normal amount of entertainment time. This reduces their normal social time with people in person and can create problems with their families, grades, and friends.”
So far, so good. And it felt like my momentum was building. “And that’s not all. Some studies show that violent video games can make people angry and aggressive. They can make people less likely to help other people out. They can make people more likely to be cruel and less likely to be kind.” I raised my voice for effect. “I’m not making this up. I have my sources right here.” I held up my notebook. I happened to glance at Marc. Instead of cheering me on, he sat slumped in his chair. He looked at me for a couple of seconds then looked away. Confused by his reaction, I stumbled over my words just a little. But then I got it back. “We need to turn off the screens, especially for children.”
I finished my opening remarks almost as well as I had practiced in my room. Except for that little moment looking at Marc, I nailed it. Like really nailed it. I didn’t want to get too confident, but that would be hard to beat.
Mr. Norton turned the time over to Lizzy.
She stood up and brushed off her dress. A dress. At school. She probably wore it just to look and feel more professional. It made her seem more like an adult. “Well,” she started, “a lot of people think we should drastically reduce the time children spend on screens, particularly video games. And although we are not completely against reducing time, we would like to show you that completely turning off screens is no more realistic than the Luddites of the nineteenth century.” She held her hands in front of her like a queen declaring her decision at a royal court. So formal. And completely ridiculous. I’m pretty sure none of us knew what Luddites were. And what did the nineteenth century have to do with screen time? The more she used words that nobody cared about, the easier it was going to be to win this debate.
“There are positive sides to screens,” Lizzy said. “Spending a reasonable amount of time on screens and video games increases children’s problem-solving and logic skills. It increases their hand-eye coordination, their fine motor and spatial skills. It teaches them perseverance, the value in taking risks, cooperation, and how to respond to challenges and frustrations. In fact, a study at Oxford University claimed that ‘playing video games one hour a day actually enhanced psychological well-being in study participants.’” She paused to let that sink in. Then she curtsied like she was a princess at a ball. “Thank you.”
What on earth? We weren’t supposed to curtsy, were we? Who was she even thanking?
But her opening remarks were good. Really good. I wished they weren’t, but they were. We needed to match them.
It was Jarom’s turn to speak. He could respond to what Lizzy said and add new arguments. I looked over at him and I was pretty sure he hadn’t been listening. I hoped he hadn’t been playing a game on his phone while I had been trying to convince everyone to lower their screen time. Jarom’s eyes went wide, then he fumbled through his folder. I’m not sure what took him so long. He only had three papers in that folder. The fact that I had to trust any of the debate to him drove me crazy. Finally, he stood up and cleared his throat. “We also looked at that Oxford study,” he said. Good. He remembered. He was going to respond directly to something Lizzy had said. This was perfect. Jarom continued. “It also said that . . .” He searched his page for a moment. “. . . participants who played for over three hours a day had a decline in their well-being.”
Solid. I had underestimated Jarom.
He gave a huge grin. “And we all heard what Willa said.” Then he sat down.
I cringed. That was it? Of all the things we researched, that was it? He had shot too many lanky aliens and hadn’t studied enough.
Kaycen then got to make a few points, which were decent. He talked about how games can give kids a sense of making their own choices and leading their own lives. Mr. Norton was making notes the whole time on the board and their side was getting bigger.
When Kaycen sat down, we were free to debate back and forth. We needed to gain back some ground. “Video games don’t really give kids all of those positives,” I said from my chair. “It’s misleading. They only give kids the perception of them. It’s make-believe. At the end of the day, what have they really accomplished?”
“This is all garbage,” Derrin said from his seat. I guess I hurt his feelings about his screens. When I glanced at him, I also saw Marc, still slumped and grumpy.
Mr. Norton silenced Derrin. “It’s not your debate.”
Lizzy piped in. “A study in Norway showed that boys who spent time gaming didn’t show any lack of social skills.” Derrin whooped from his seat and some of the other kids joined him in cheering. Marc looked up.
What was going on here? Were they allowed to do that?
Kaycen followed. “In the right amounts, games and screen time can be healthy and good for your life.”
There were more murmurs of agreement from the students in class.
Jarom held up a paper from his sloppy folder. “Well,” he said reading it. “The Journal of Psychology said that screen time leads to impulserverty—”
“Impulsivity,” I whispered.
“—and attention problems.” He slammed the paper down on the table like he had just made a great point. I’m not sure he understood how to elaborate on a concept. One-sentence statements seemed to be all he could do.
“I would like
to see the sources for that,” Lizzy said, jumping to her feet and making her way to our table. Her dress swished as she walked. Jarom handed her the paper, pretty smugly. Especially since it was my research he was quoting. She scanned it for a moment. “That’s what I thought,” she said. “This is quoting a study done in 2012. Most research from that time period came to the same conclusion, but newer studies will show you that the old research was missing pieces of the puzzle. Were kids who played more video games becoming more impulsive—or were children with impulsive personalities drawn to video games?” She gave Jarom back his paper and went back to her table. “All of our research is from the last five years. Anything older than that is reactionary.”
“Yeah!” Nolan shouted in agreement and everyone laughed. He never says words like impulsive or reactionary, even though he is both of those. He was just cheering for video games and we all knew it.
Lizzy and Kaycen went on to talk about studies that showed the educational value of screen time and video games—vocabulary, reading, math skills. How it introduces kids to tech and gets them interested in it. How it can increase some children’s perseverance, memory, and concentration skills. In exact contrast to our points.
Jarom mentioned that kids who spent too much time on screens and playing video games were all fat. I knew what he was going for, but the way he said it wasn’t true, especially since Jarom plays video games and definitely isn’t fat. That got some boos from the class.
Mr. Norton asked them not to do that again, but the damage was done.
I talked about the dangers of children being online for games, especially social games, where there are bullies and predators. And I think the best piece I played was that the World Health Organization recognizes gaming addiction as a mental health disorder. “MRI scans reveal that addictive video games have a similar effect on the brain as drugs or alcohol. Plus, there is evidence that those who use too much screen time struggle in school.”
I had their attention with that one.
When it was over Mr. Norton summarized all of the points on the board. The amount was pretty even on both sides. “Excellent job both groups. What a great way to start off our debates. Thanks for going first.” That felt good, but I still wanted to beat Lizzy. I didn’t know if he was going to grade us, or pronounce a winner or what.
Mr. Norton turned to the class. “Alright, this won’t affect anyone’s grades but out of curiosity, which side would you vote for?” A vote. This is how we would determine who was more persuasive.
He pointed at me and Jarom.
Only four hands went up.
My insides stormed. We were a total bomb.
Mr. Norton pointed to Lizzy’s side and the rest of the hands in the room shot up. Everyone else. Even Jarom raised his hand until I swatted him in the stomach. Then he pulled it down. But one hand hurt the most. Marc’s.
I felt betrayed. I mean, I knew he liked video games, but he could have pretended to vote for me just to be a friend.
Mr. Norton asked another question: “How many of you would have voted exactly the same as you did before the debate began?”
The hands all shot up. Every single person.
“Good to know,” he said and dismissed us.
I had convinced nobody of anything. And Lizzy had beaten me, badly. Worse than in swim. Worse than in tests. She obliterated me.
I blinked hard as I shuffled all of my research into a tidy pile. And Marc didn’t wait for me. There was no “that’s too bad” or “good try.” He was just gone. Then Lizzy was there, standing over me with a huge smug smile on her face. “Great job,” she said, clearly pleased with herself. She put her hand out for a shake. But I didn’t take it. It was no time for fake handshakes and smiles.
I hated everything.
Willa Twitchell, Journal #5, today
Eunice Aphroditois sounds like a snobby girl. Like Aphrodite’s less-pretty cousin. But really, it’s the name of one of the most terrifying creatures in the ocean—the bobbit worm.
Imagine it. All you see is an inch or less of something poking out of the sand. Their iridescent skin even looks a little sparkly. Then when a fish swims by, not thinking much of the small, almost plant-like thing, it rockets out, snaps its scissor jaws, and pulls the stunned fish into the sand where it will be eaten. And it’s strong. It can be several feet long under the ground, all of it pulling the fish in.
Terrifying.
Sometimes in life we think we know what’s coming and then—snap!
I had to talk to Marc. I rode up to the Mendoza’s house and when I reached the white fence around their front yard, I hopped off my bike. Yeah, it was one of those big red brick houses with a small white fence around it. Picture-perfect kind of thing. It was even on a hill with the ocean behind it. Seriously, it could be in movies.
I put my hand to the gate when a woman came out the front door. She had dark skin and her hair in a thick braid. A baby was perched on her hip and she shut the door behind her.
“Hello,” she said as she walked right towards me. I guessed she had been visiting the Mendozas just before me. “I’m on my way out, but can I help you?”
Why would she help me? She was just visiting. Confused, I just said, “I’m looking for Marc.”
She paused a moment, her mouth squishing to one side. Then her eyebrows lifted. “Mendoza?” she asked and adjusted the baby. “They don’t live here anymore. We bought the house from them a few months ago.” It all came rushing back. Jean had mentioned that Marc had moved. I felt stupid for not remembering it and not asking Marc more about it. “They had us forward their mail to their marina.”
The marina? But I needed to know where he lived. Then again, the last few times we met up, I think Marc had come from the marina. Maybe he was there now.
I thanked the woman, jumped back on my bike, and shot down to the waterfront. As the marina came into view, it looked exactly how I remembered it, a large gray warehouse-looking building with a couple of huge garage doors and Mendoza Marina on a blue sign on top.
As I got closer, I could see Marc, his dad, and Dante, Marc’s little brother, in the massive driveway wiping down a boat with rags. Marc’s dad worked quickly, Marc regular speed, and Dante, Marc’s six-year-old younger brother, did more flipping his towel than actually working.
When I pulled up, Marc’s dad noticed me first. “I don’t believe it,” he said and set down his rag. “I haven’t seen this amiga in years!” He made his way over to me. He had the same big smile as Marc. Well, the same smile Marc used to have. “Long time no see. Really long time.” He looked down at himself. “I would hug you, but I’m a mess.”
I just smiled. “It has been a long time. Good to see you, too.”
“You should stay, hang out, have dinner with us,” Marc’s dad offered. That was classic Mendoza hospitality. Hello and invite to dinner. I had forgotten how great it was.
I looked at Marc. Did he want me to stay for dinner? He didn’t give any hints. He focused on wiping down the boat. And he might have even been working a little faster than before.
“Yeah, stay for dinner,” Dante said, taking the excuse to drop his rag.
“Do you remember Amiga?” Marc’s dad said, pointing at me. I’m not sure he remembered my name, but I didn’t mind “Amiga.”
“No,” Dante said. The kid was cute. “But Mama’s making something super delicious.” There was something about the way he spoke that I just loved. It was so perfect. I used to think that a child who was fluent in English and Spanish would have an accent, but he didn’t. He switched from Spanish to English like it was nothing.
“What’s she making?” I asked.
“I don’t know,” Dante said, “but it will be delicious. Unless it’s mole sauce. That stuff is nasty.” He stuck out his tongue.
“Dante,” Marc’s dad chided. Then he looked at me, “So . . . will you s
tay?”
I glanced at Marc again, but he still didn’t look back. So I got bold. “What do you think, Marc?” I asked.
“Sure,” he said, and gave a weak smile.
He definitely wasn’t giving out an I-really-want-you-to-stay vibe, but I took the opportunity anyway. I texted my dad to ask permission, then picked up a towel from the stack on the ground and started helping. “So, I went to your old house . . .” I started. “I forgot you moved.”
Marc winced.
“Where do you live now?” I asked.
“Oh, Amiga, Marc didn’t tell you?” Marc’s dad asked. “We moved here a few months ago. We converted part of the office into a little home for Maria and I, and the kids sleep out on our boat.” He pointed with his towel hand to the office in the back, then to their sailboat that was rocking against the dock. “It’s just for now while we look for a new place.”
“Oh, okay,” I said. I hadn’t realized they were living at the marina. And now that I thought about it, Marc seemed like he didn’t want me to know that. Was he embarrassed to be sleeping in a boat while they looked for a new house? I didn’t understand that. It might be fun to sleep in a boat, being rocked to sleep. “But you’re going to buy a new place on the island, right? You’re not moving far?”
“My work is here,” Marc’s dad said with his arms outstretched. “We won’t go far.”
“Good,” I said, trying to figure out what to do with the wet towel I was holding. I twisted some water out of it and moved closer to Marc and Dante. “Why didn’t you tell me any of this?” I asked Marc.
He shrugged, then looked at his brother.
“Hey, Dante,” Marc said, “you’re supposed to be washing the boat, not the entire driveway around it.” He always teased his brother, but I got the feeling he was trying to change the subject.
Dante just looked up. “Burn,” he said.