Page 37 of TJ Powar Has Something to Prove

“And even then,” mutters one of the junior debaters as they walk towards the entrance together, “it’s cool that we just get to be here.”

Well, that kid clearly got roasted for an hour straight. TJ feels marginally better.

Outside, the charter bus pulls up in front of them in the pickup zone. The door opens, and Nate pokes his head out.

“Get in, losers. We’re going to the mall.”

∗

One of the perks of any out-of-city club trip is, of course, making use of the downtime. Seeing as there’ll be less of it tomorrow, today their group is getting driven to a large indoor mall to go wild for two hours. Or at least, as wild as one can get at the mall, while being sternly told to stay in groups and not to leave the building without a chaperone.

TJ endures the entire bus ride full of jokes and laughter, leaning her head back against her seat and only intermittently listening in. Saad and Ameera take turns roasting each other’s debate skills for the entertainment of the whole bus. Some Whitewater kids are hyping Nate up about his new suit. Mrs. Scott and Mr. York are talking on their phones, trying to confirm the schedule for tomorrow. TJ keeps her eyes closed and lets Simran tell people she has a headache when they ask.

By the time they reach the mall, however, she’s at her limit. She needs a moment alone.

The debaters split off into groups with their friends, and all the chaperones go off in their own group. TJ follows a random group until the chaperones have disappeared around thecorner, then mumbles that she’s going to the washroom. Nobody seems to hear. Good.

In the washroom, she locks herself in a stall and roots through her bag. After several minutes, she finds her correct cue cards in a side pocket. She doesn’t even know how they got there. TJ’s never made this kind of mistake before. But then again, that was exactly Jenna’s aim—to shake her up.

TJ wishes she could text Chandani. Chandani would make her feel better by coming up with a bunch of cathartic nasty insults. Except TJ can’t text her, because they haven’t spoken in weeks. She’s alone in this one. Officially hit rock bottom, sitting on a public toilet with her pants down and staring at stall graffiti. She racks her brain for a time when she was more pathetic than this but can’t come up with anything.

Eventually, she leaves, deciding that taking a lap around the mall might help clear her head. But it’s not to be. Because leaning on the wall across from the washrooms, ankles and arms crossed, is none other than Charlie Rosencrantz.

Charlie pushes off the wall when she appears. He’s gotten rid of his suit jacket and rolled his sleeves up, but otherwise he looks fresh as a daisy. Not even a hair out of place from his styled side part. It kind of pisses TJ off. Why can’t he be a mess sometimes? Why is she the only one ever falling apart?

Charlie pointedly checks his watch. “That bad, huh?”

“Ha, ha.” She doesn’t even have the energy to refute his assumption. “Why aren’t you with the others?”

“We’re all supposed to have a buddy, remember?”

Great. “And you just decided to be the sacrificial saint who stayed behind.”

“Someone has to be.” He falls into step with her as they walk down a well-lit, open hallway of the mall; there are hardly any other shoppers. They pass three clothing boutiques, a jeweler, and a specialty meats shop before he asks, “Where to first?”

“I’m just walking. If you want to shop designer suits, go find Saad. I think he went to some boutique.”

In her peripheral vision, she sees him give her a long look. “Are you okay?”

She shrugs as they turn another corner. “Yeah.”

A silence falls between them. Charlie doesn’t leave her side, despite her suggestion. Their footsteps clack in unison against the tiled floors, and TJ stares listlessly into the shops they pass. On a different day, she might’ve been excited to check out the purses on sale in that last window, but today the prospect seems exhausting.

Charlie speaks up after a while. “Want to get something to eat?”

“I’m not hungry,” she lies.

“Really? You didn’t eat anything at the dinner buffet.”

She narrows her eyes. “How would you know that?”

“I was watching you.” He’s totally unashamed of this, meeting her gaze squarely.

“Creep,” she says, as though she doesn’t stalk his social media regularly. “I think you might be obsessed with me.”

“Aren’t we all a little obsessed with our competition?” He points ahead to the cafeteria sign. “Look, we’re here anyway. Let’s get something. It’s on me.”

Her stomach pangs with hunger. Screw it. “Fine. But I’m going to get the most expensive thing on the menu.”