Page 86 of TJ Powar Has Something to Prove
They didn’t even write notes to each other during the debate. She couldn’t figure out what he was thinking, or where his speeches were going until he got there. She may as well have been another member of the audience instead of his partner.
Mrs. Scott must see the epiphany dawning on her face. “See? The style you’re using might win you these debates, but it won’t get your scores high enough for finals.”
Finals. TJ blinks. “Who said anything about finals?”
“I did.”
Even Charlie lowers his juice box at that.
TJ waits for Mrs. Scott to say sike. She doesn’t. “You think we could make it that far? We’re not even the best debaters in BC, let alone all of Canada.”
“That’s not necessarily true,” Mrs. Scott says. “Provincials scores are... Well. We all know judges aren’t totally impartial in how they mark. Whether they realize it or not. They’re used to the debating style they see most often, so they tend to reward that. Which has consequences.”
“Are you saying there’s maybe a tiny bit of judging bias?” Charlie asks wryly.
Mrs. Scott points at him. “You said it, not me.” Wow. If Simran ever talks to TJ again, she’ll have to rub this in her face. “My point is, Nationals tends to shake things up. The judges are different, the style is different, the competitors are different. You have the chance to prove yourself on a fresh playing field. If you can stop trying to one-up each other, that is.” She heads to the door, opening it. “Come on. Your parents are waiting to congratulate you.”
She ushers them out. TJ doesn’t have time to fully digest her words, or even look at Charlie to see what he’s thinking, before she’s swarmed by her parents.
“That was great,” her dad says. He’s wearing a rumpled tiefor this occasion, a rare sight. “I never thought you and”—he glances in Charlie’s direction, where he’s several feet away with his mother, and lowers his voice—“what was his name, again?”
TJ smiles, pleased. Her mother elbows him with a frown.
“Why can’t you remember anything? That’sCharlie.”
Charlie and his mother look over at the sound of his name. TJ’s mom waves them closer. “We were just telling TJ, you two make a good team.” She elbows TJ’s father again. “Right?”
TJ’s father, who gets shy around people he doesn’t know, nods jerkily and extends a hand to Charlie. “Yes. Good job.”
“Thank you,” Charlie says with an easy smile, and shakes her father’s offered hand. TJ starts to sweat. Every instinct in her brown-girl body screams for her to escape this situation.
Charlie’s mom, meanwhile, pats TJ’s back. “You always give my son a run for his money,” she says warmly. “I like seeing you together.”
This is hell. “Thanks. I’m really tired,” TJ says quickly, looking to her parents. “Early morning tomorrow. Can we go?”
Thankfully, their parents agree. While they’re bidding quick goodbyes, TJ makes eye contact with Charlie. His face is unreadable. She can’t tell what he’s thinking. Does he agree with Mrs. Scott?
He doesn’t break her stare. TJ wonders suddenly if he’s searching her expression for the same thing she is. But then the goodbyes are over, so TJ turns away from him and falls in step with her parents. As they head to the exit, her dad side-hugs her. “Too bad we can’t watch tomorrow.” He winks. “Don’t worry, I’m sure even without me there, you’ll win.”
TJ rolls her eyes even though there’s a lump in her throat. He’s always been invested in her debate career, helping her with speeches, brainstorming, and research. Of course he wants her to get to finals; of course he believes she can do it.
And now so does she. TJ may have her issues with Charlie, but if Mrs. Scott thinks this is the way, well, she’s never been wrong before.
Which means... it’s time to make nice.
∗
The next morning, TJ arrives early to their first-round classroom. The three rounds today are for the prepared resolution, the one everyone has had months to research:THBT it is sometimes right for the government to restrict freedom of speech. Charlie sits down next to her without comment, flipping open his notepad.
Being the bigger person is not TJ’s forte, but she’ll try. She pushes her plate at Charlie as the timekeeper finally enters the room. “Muffin?”
He looks at the plate of breakfast food she’s brought from the refreshments table.
She points to one of the muffins. “It’s blueberry.” That’s always the one he chooses in any given breakfast spread.
“Are you trying to give me food poisoning?”
“These are fresh, dickhead.”