Chapter 76: A Familiar Stranger

January 25, 1983

As expected, we waived the waiting period for a Study Group membership vote and, as expected, we voted Paige in unanimously. Paige was there, waiting, and we welcomed her with hugs, and a few kisses, too. She got right to studying with the rest of us.

She did not get to napping. I was pretty certain there was a good reason for that, likely having to do with it being the wrong few days. That, and the wrong week, with exams ongoing. Nevertheless ... naps are good, even during exam weeks.

January 28, 1983

We all arrived at school bright and early, as usual, but instead of heading to class as usual, we loaded ourselves and our stuff onto the big shiny bus waiting for us. Grapevine was the last full-squad trip and, while not all of us were going, we had thirty-six kids making the trip. We’d fit, without laps being required, but we were quite the crowd.

This was an odd tournament for those who weren’t the top people. It was in-state, so it was nominally another chance to qualify for state, but it was also a ToC qualifier, and a well-attended one, so the odds of one of our not-yet-qualified kids reaching the top two in finals was ... low. Quite low. Painfully low. Of course, the odds were that the top two would be pre-qualified, but it was still perhaps lower odds than usual. In some events, qualifiers would come from semifinals or perhaps even quarterfinals.

Given the lower odds, Meg and Steffie had offered chances to go to other tournaments but, predictably or not, only a very few stayed home — the ones that couldn’t justify the expense, I was pretty sure.

Six kids from Drama stayed home, but none of them were much on tournaments in the first place. Of the Debaters, Stacey and Crystal were out. None of them were going to other tournaments.

Those of us with bids from Emory had at least a shot at qualifying for ToC here, and I imagined — hoped, anyway — that at least a few would, including maybe me. Or Angie. Or Jas. Or all of us.

Jas wound up in my lap — no surprise. Paige winding up in Angie’s lap was perhaps more of a surprise, but less of one. I got the feeling that perhaps Meg hadn’t known, but Steffie might have. Janet and Lizzie hadn’t known, apparently, and there were a few significant looks, which became more significant when Angie and Paige kissed.

“Girlfriends,” Angie said.

Paige grinned and nodded. “Girlfriends.”

“Totally awesome!” Janet said.

Lizzie just smiled. I figured she might have something to say later, quietly. Not that I was worried about it — not at all.

From nine to about eleven-fifteen we rode along, chatting or playing games or napping or whatever. Since the bus had a bathroom, we didn’t have the need for potty stops, with the ensuing ridiculous lines.

Or so I thought. We arrived in Madisonville at eleven-fifteen, stopping at a cafe that I hope Meg or Steffie warned in advance. This many high school kids at once can be a lot for anyone to handle. We’re pretty well-behaved, but ... still.

As soon as we’d stopped, the line for the women’s room was on. We guys made our own much shorter line, then ceded the men’s room to the girls, getting a round of thanks as the line split.

We were there for about an hour and a half. The food was good, and the service was even better. Forewarned or not, they did a great job with our group, and we in turn tipped well. That was something both Angie and I had always done, and most of our friends had picked up on it. Just another version of respecting the people around you and treating them the way we’d want to be treated if we were in their position.

Once we’d gotten rolling again, Cammie and Paige organized singalongs with the radio. It was amazing how much better we were, collectively. All of the Drama talents helped, but some of the Debaters had clearly been practicing. Quite a few were gender-swapped — more fun that way — with or without lyric changes.

All of this helped pass the time, and I suspected that, if there had been a trophy for ‘Best Time While Traveling to the Tournament’ we’d have won in a landslide.

We arrived at our motel — nothing fancy — around two. Of our thirty-six people, ten were boys. The Powers That Be — Steffie and Meg — had decided we’d room as four-three-three. The four youngest boys were together. I got Gene and Bob as roommates, with Brad, Amit, and Eric in the other room.

I had no problem with this. Gene and Bob agreed to flip a coin to see who’d get a bed to themselves each night. Turned out, they did — I’d have to share both nights. Oh well; I’d manage just fine, even if they weren’t my choice of bed companions.

I helped unload bags and carry them to our rooms, and then we all got things settled so that we could mostly just climb into bed after competing. Once settled in, I made a quick call home to let Mom and Dad know that we’d arrived safely. After that, we rendezvoused back at the bus and headed to Grapevine High. We arrived a bit too close to starting time for comfort, but it worked out just fine. It prevented me from scoping out many of the attendees, though.

By this point, a tournament was a tournament. Old school? New school? Didn’t matter. Oh, we were curious, but we’d been to too many to really care. They’d done a good job of organizing — no surprise, given its ToC qualifier status — and check-in was smooth. The large number of us crossing over didn’t throw them at all (or, if it did, they hid it well).

We got the usual welcome speech by their coach — one of the better ones, if only because it was short and to the point — and then got started. Cammie and I did fine, I’m pretty sure. Our first couple of opponents were both in-state teams we didn’t know, and they didn’t seem all that good.

Extemp and Humorous? Who knows? Same song, different tournament. I had no feel for how good anyone else was. Oh, there were some people here I knew were good, but they hadn’t been in my rounds thus far.

We were done by ten and in bed by eleven. A little part of me said that we were missing out on something I’d had my first go-round — all those crazy nights staying up late with clever, funny, mischievous people — but another part of me said that we had plenty of that. We just had it when we didn’t have a ToC bid riding on the next day’s competition.

Saturday, January 29, 1983

Up at seven, breakfast at IHOP at eight, competing by ten. Same song, different weekend. That breakfast is always a challenge — there’s a temptation to go nuts with pancakes (it is the International House of Pancakes, after all!), but some of us were prone to getting sleepy a few hours after a meal like that. Best to stick with protein, and in moderation.

At least Meg and Steffie had nothing at all against us drinking coffee, or soda, or tea, or anything else with caffeine in it. As far as I knew, no one on the team was addicted to NoDoz, which more than a few Debaters I knew my first go-round were. Nor Sudafed, which is a fairly strong stimulant itself (it is the major ingredient in Methamphetamine, after all).

Our fourth CX round was against, of all people, Dave Mayrink and Adam Myers. Yet another surreal moment in a life filled with them. I’d spent literally thousands of hours arguing nearly everything with Dave over the years (as I had with Dave Winton), but had never done it in a Debate round, of course. As far as I knew, first-life Dave Mayrink had never been anywhere near a Debate round.

If he was our opponent in the fourth round, my guess was that he’d gone 2-0 yesterday but was one of the bottom 2-0 teams. That still gave him a fighting chance at breaking.

Cammie greeted both of them warmly, which Dave handled fairly well and Adam ... well, he could’ve done worse.

“Hey, Dave! Adam!” I said, going over to them.

“Hey, yourself,” Dave said. “I guess this was inevitable.”

“I know quite a few teams that I’ve never debated,” I said, shrugging. “Likely, maybe, though. How’s the year been treating you?”

“We qualified at Lamar,” Adam said. “It’s been pretty good. I heard you beat Mason and Bell a bit ago.”

I chuckled. “We did, but the news is that Janet and Lizzie beat them.”

“They did?” Dave said. “News to me. I hadn’t heard that!”

“Yeah. Two weeks ago at Strake Jesuit.”

“Oh, man!” Adam said. “We didn’t go. I had the stomach flu.”

“My sister and I had the flu a week before, and were a little shaky, but we did okay. I couldn’t possibly have competed during the worst of it.” I caught a look from Cammie. “Yes, Cammie, I’d have dragged myself to the tournament if it was a big one, but ... it was bad.”

She chuckled and nodded. “I’ve had a few moments ... you know. Girl, and all.”

I knew. And I knew that Dave and Adam caught it, from their blushes. Personally, I put that close to dirty tricks. Cammie knew I was fine with subjects that most guys run screaming from.

The judge came in then and put an end to our fun. Cammie’s gambit (if it was) was totally unnecessary. They were running a case centered around Saudi Arabia that sounded similar to three others that I’d heard, but they didn’t run it as well as two of them. We had all the evidence we needed to come at it head-on. Barring some capriciousness on the part of the judge, we had this one, and I could tell they knew it.