Page 40 of TJ Powar Has Something to Prove
The judges scribble madly on their sheets, probably impressed with him. Not on TJ’s watch.
Setting the sheet of questions down, she leans on her desk and crosses her arms. Enough of this STEM talk. It’s time to bring this argument toherplaying field. “Do you think the rules and regulations of soccer are objective?”
His brow furrows. TJ can practically see him analyzing all angles before he responds. “Yes. Because that’s a standardized system of measurement—”
TJ cuts him off. “But we’ve all heard about refs making bad calls and missing fouls. By your definition, an objective system of measurement should reproduce the same result everytime. But doesn’t that depend on who uses it?”
“But that just means the system of measurement isn’t good enough,” her opponent answers eagerly. “If all the soccer games used technology like slow-motion replay and made it easier to see the foul, then itwouldbe objective.”
“You know something my soccer coach once told us?” TJ says. “Instant replay hardly makes a difference. English-speaking refs are more likely to call a foul when the direction of the play is going from right to left. You know why that is?”
His expression is still pleasant, but now there’s a sharp edge to his voice. “I’m assuming you’ll tell me.”
“Because it’s the opposite direction you read from. It feels uncomfortable. Even though they know the rules, depending on where the camera is, or where the ref is standing, or what language they speak, one team could be put at a disadvantage. So it doesn’t matter if you’ve supposedly crafted a totally objective system of measurement, because the person using and interpreting the system is always going to be biased. Therefore, you can never truly measure it objectively. Wouldn’t you agree?”
Out of the corner of her eye, she sees the judges look to her opponent for a response. His smirk is long gone. Suddenly, TJ’s not bothered at all that people know about what happened last night.
Because now they’re underestimating her.
∗
The four debates go by like nothing—it feels like barely an hour has passed when it hits midafternoon and the last one is done.
The last event of the tournament is the celebratory banquet, held back at the hotel. TJ spends a little extra time in her roomtouching up her makeup and slipping on a dress, so she arrives in the foyer a few minutes late. Clearly she wasn’t the only one with that idea, because the entrance to the ballroom is so congested that no one’s really moving. TJ cranes her head to look over the crowd. Damn it. Final scores are going to be made public in a few minutes.
Someone squeezes next to her, and she looks up to find Charlie studying her. They haven’t spoken all day.
TJ keeps her face expressionless. “Hey.”
He leans in to whisper so no one else can hear. “How’d it go?”
She stares at him flatly for another second, and his eyes soften in sympathy. Then she breaks into a grin.
Because it wentwell.
She and Simran blew their first opponents out of the water. Their second round was against some friendly Island region kids that they’d debated before. That one was a tie, but TJ felt good about their performance.
That set the tone for the afternoon rounds. By the time TJ walked out of the last debate, she had a bounce in her step. Three wins and one tie, plus the loss yesterday. Not bad at all.
Upon seeing her smile, Charlie grins, too, a wide, even one. “Good.”
“Good?” she echoes, raising her eyebrows. “You should be quaking in your loafers. I’m coming for your spot.”
“You’ll try.”
He’s still grinning. It’s a little weird to see Charlie happy for her. Maybe he’s confident he did well enough to beat her anyway. “How were yours?”
“Fine.” He shrugs, looking unbothered. So he killed it. Shewaits for the jealousy to overcome her, but strangely, it doesn’t. She just feels warm and content. Charlie continues smiling at her. Like her, he’s changed into fresh formal clothes for the evening—a violet three-piece, with a complementary striped tie. And with the suit jacket tossed over his shoulder, sleeves rolled up, dear god, he’sachinglycute.
Wait. What? Where did that come from? TJ’s smile falls. Charlie’s eyebrows draw together in confusion as the crowd finally starts moving again. And then a familiar voice sounds out.
“Charlie! It’s been so long!” Isaac appears in front of them, enveloping Charlie in a side-hug. Great. Before Isaac can spot her, TJ slips away.
She mentally dumps ice water on herself as she goes. Charlie? Cute? She’s way too slaphappy right now. She needs sleep.
But first. The banquet.
Long, cloth-draped tables stand in rows in the ballroom, and Yara waves madly with a piece of paper from one taken over by Southern Interior debaters. Appetizers are set out, but that’s not what TJ homes in on. She needs to know which two senior debaters will represent the Southern Interior at Nationals. She snatches one of the papers out of Saad’s hands.