Page 22 of TJ Powar Has Something to Prove

And the idea comes to her, all at once.

She runs back inside and upstairs to her room. Her debate bag is on her desk where she left it, and she grabs it, dumping the contents on the bed. Her notebook, pens, and scoresheets from the last tournament clatter onto the comforter, along with an unused package of cue cards.

She rips the package open and pulls out a blank card. Bracing it on her notebook, she taps a pen against her lips, trying to think of the right wording. It has to be convincing. It has to be firm. Finally, she puts her pen to paper and writes. A smile stretches over her face as she does. This was definitely the way to go.

Because it’s a debate resolution. And like with all debate resolutions, she reads it andbecomesit, instantly. She will go to absurd lengths to prove it. She will shoot down every opposing argument withevidenceto prove why her resolution must stand.

This House Believes That TJ Powar can be her hairy self and still be beautiful.

SIX

***

TWO WEEKS LATER

Click, clack, click, clack.

TJ’s heeled boots echo as she walks through Northridge’s halls on the first day back after Break. It’s seven thirty in the morning, so the place is a ghost town. TJ wouldn’t be here, either, if it weren’t for the seniors-only debate practice happening. They’re all so busy this first week of classes that the crack of dawn was the only time they could meet.

She throws her soccer bag into her locker and heads to Mrs. Scott’s classroom, where muffled voices can be heard. She pauses at the door, grips her Starbucks mug harder, and walks in.

Everyone is lounging at desks in the front, while Mrs. Scott is on the phone. They all look up when TJ enters. She gives a vague nod to the room before finding a seat next to Ameera.

Ameera glances at her from where she’s eating a wholesome breakfast of Cheetos. “Love the outfit.”

Quite the compliment coming from Ameera, who looks like a hijabi model twenty-four seven. “Thanks.” It’d better get compliments—the silk scarf her masi brought back from India, combined with her cream sweater and straightened hair, is her armour today. She’s just trying to draw attention away from what is glaringly obvious to her:

1. Her unruly eyebrows.

2. The hairs growing on her upper lip.

3. Her sideburns, which have started growing in again.

4. The hair on her knuckles. Deargod.

She represses a shudder and reminds herself that it’s only been two weeks; it’s notthatnoticeable. Although fluorescent lights like the ones currently above her don’t help.

And that’s only what’s visible right now in her winter outfit. She doesn’t even want to think about when the weather warms. Truly, every time TJ looks in the mirror she wants to scream. She wants to unblock Lulu and beg her to fix her. But no. Shemustwin this debate. Side Opposition cannot be allowed to take this from her.

Speaking of, she hasn’t seen Liam yet—over Break, she’d left all his calls and texts unanswered, relenting only to tell him to give her space until January. She’s not sure what she’ll do when she sees him.

TJ digs out her notebook, making eye contact with Simran when she straightens back up. They nod at each other. TJ hasn’t seen her since Christmas. Simran’s family came over for chah just like every year, and the uncomfortable silences between their mothers were painful. TJ spent most of it talking to Simran’s older sister, Kiran, who was home for the holidays and had looked over her university applications for her. She’d seemed puzzled as to why TJ was applying to so many Ontario schools, and TJ explained she was looking for an adventure in a different province. Which was partially true. And definitely easier than saying it was really because they had robust, decorated debate clubs.

Anyway, Kiran seemed to buy it. But Simran, who sat silently nearby, was harder to read. She’d already gotten early acceptance into several schools. Not that she offered any wisdom to TJ, but then again, TJ didn’t ask.

TJ’s brought back to the present when Ameera offers her a Cheeto. She shakes her head and again meets Simran’s gaze. “Hi.”

“Hi.” Simran yawns.

TJ offers her mug. “Coffee?”

“I don’t drink coffee.”

She hadn’t known that. “Oh, okay.” She retracts her mug. There’s a long stretch of silence. Everyone else has stopped talking, too.

“You know what I just realized?” Nate pulls at his blue hoodie strings. “You two make a somewhat-decent team, but when you’re not debating you act like neighbours who keep awkwardly meeting in grocery store aisles.”

“No wonder no one ever realizes they’re related,” Charlie says, his arms stretched back over his head.