Page 42 of TJ Powar Has Something to Prove
“Thanks,” Simran says wryly. It’s an unnecessary warning, since debate parties are glorified pajama parties. The thrill comes from defying school-trip rules about being back in their own rooms by eleven.
The chaperones make it back to the table. Mr. York suggests a toast to all the debaters from the Southern Interior. Everyone raises their glasses of sparkling juice amid cheers.
Simran nudges TJ’s shoulder. They clink glasses.
“You did great,” Simran whispers. “You should be proud.”
TJ grins back. “You too.” And maybe it’s her exhaustion thatmakes everything seem so shiny and her heart so unnaturally giddy, so much more sentimental than it usually is; or maybe it’s just that it’s her last tournament, but she looks back at Charlie, who’s on her other side. She never thanked him for his pep talk.
Just as she’s thinking to say it, Charlie’s phone buzzes on the table. The nameAndrew Yenlights up the display, and he immediately picks it up, standing to excuse himself. Probably one of his student council henchmen.
Appetizers are served, then the main course, then dessert, and the atmosphere in their little group is joyful and energetic. Charlie doesn’t return. Nate makes everyone laugh with his impression of the MC; one of the Pineview novices shares a story of how an opponent left for the washroom in the middle of the debate. Saad and Ameera nearly get into a shouting match over the last piece of chocolate cake, and by the time the speeches start, they’re all in a lazy, contented sort of mood.
The organizers drone on and on about all the work that went into the tournament, and TJ finds herself nodding off. She whispers to Simran that she’s going to the washroom and ducks out.
There’s a public washroom in the corridor, but she gets in the elevator, telling herself she’s just going to the one in her room. But then she gets off on the floor just under hers, and tells herself she’s just going for a walk. And when she passes by Charlie and Nate’s room, she tells herself she’s just trying to delay going back downstairs and listening to boring speeches.
She knocks. No answer. She knocks again. Again, nothing. Giving up, she starts to head back down the darkened hall when she notices someone sitting on the couch at the end of thecorridor, facing the floor-to-ceiling cityscape-view window.
Charlie doesn’t react when she sits next to him on the couch, except to move his suit jacket to the other armrest to make room for her. His loafers are propped up on the low coffee table next to a plate that looks scraped clean. He must’ve taken food with him when he left.
She props her black heels up, too, and follows his gaze outside. The city view is really beautiful from here, the lights preventing the alcove from being too dark. She yawns and tips her head back, closing her eyes.
“Is the banquet over?” Charlie asks after a minute, and she jerks back into alertness. He must think she’s a weirdo, wandering over here with no explanation and then practically falling asleep next to him.
The thing is, she doesn’t have an explanation for why she’s here that doesn’t sound cheesy. She clears her throat. “Uh, no. They were getting to the ‘patting ourselves on the back’ stage of speeches. So I left. Why didn’t you come back?”
He nods at his phone on the coffee table. “I got an important call.”
“Oh? Did the clown convention finally get back to you?”
“Yeah, but the position I was gunning for was already filled by a more suitable applicant. Congratulations, by the way.” TJ kicks his foot. He makes a show of rubbing the scuff mark off the genuine Italian leather. “It was this guy I’ve been trying to book for an event our school council is doing. A stand-up comedian. He’s really busy and only just called me back.”
She tilts her head. All these years, she’s only really knownCharlie through debate, and whatever he posted online, which wasn’t much. But suddenly, she’s filled with curiosity about his life. “What event?”
“A fundraising dinner, for polio.”
“Forpolio? Interesting side you’ve chosen to take.”
He laughs under his breath. “You know what I meant.”
“I never know with you.” TJ realizes she’s grinning. How disturbing. “Hey, I never said thanks. For yesterday, I mean.”
He shrugs one shoulder. “I didn’t do anything.”
“No, you did.” She needs him to understand what it meant to her to end this tournament on a positive note. “I just, well, I know you and Isaac are friends, so I appreciated the pep talk.”
A small furrow appears between his brows. “We’re not friends.”
“What?” She stares. With the way Isaac acted earlier... “I thought you two were close. Didn’t you grow up together?”
“It—it—it’s old news.”
That might be the first time she’s ever heard him stammer. She waits for more, but he appears to have wired his jaw shut. “Meaning? You wereneverfriends?”
“No, we were.” His tone closes the matter despite the many questions she has. This is new; she’s never heard him soundbitterbefore.
But if his experience is anything like hers, she understands being bitter. It’s like with Chandani. In some ways, Chandani hurt her more than Liam. Because in the back of TJ’s mind, she always thought she would have her friends no matter what happened. But apparently that’s not true. And that... sucks.