Chapter 7: Finals

Wednesday, July 21, 1982

Cammie finally asked the question neither of us had been willing to ask about halfway through breakfast.

“Do you think we broke?”

Angie jumped in. “Are you kidding me? When did you two not break?”

“Um ... I...”

“Can’t ... remember?” Cammie finished.

“Unless you tell me I’m wrong, the answer is never, and you’re not going to start now,” Angie said.

Cammie mumbled something.

“What’s that?” Angie said.

“I um ... fine. I’m still nervous,” Cammie said.

“Eh. It’s the least important tournament we’ll ever be in,” I said.

“You’re going to break. I have spoken!” Angie said.

“Can’t argue with that,” I said.

“You can argue with anything, big brother,” Angie said, smirking. “That said, you can’t be right all the time.”

“Yes, dear.”

That earned me a whap. A light one, but a whap.

Angie was right. We broke. They hadn’t published win-loss records — unusual, but not unheard-of — but we’d broken. I had no feel for the team we were up against, so I couldn’t use that to guess which side of the bracket we were on.

Breaking is breaking, though. Win three more rounds and we’d have the biggest audience I’d had in my life for a CX round. That might’ve been intimidating, except for the election experience. Now ... eh.

Our octofinals opponents were none other than Carla and a girl I vaguely knew as Melanie. The coincidence with her name wasn’t lost on Cammie. My whispered, “Say hi to Mel!” got me an elbow and a mock glare.

I found Carla to be arrogant and entirely too full of herself. Cammie seemed to agree. We kept the eye-rolls and the like down; even if someone is awful, you don’t want the judge seeing you looking down on them.

Melanie wasn’t bad. Soft-spoken and a bit tentative, but she seemed solid. And Carla, for her faults, wasn’t bad either. Just ... too sure of her material. And of her greatness.

In the end, I thought we had them, and that it wasn’t really very close either. We headed off to lunch after some pretty even-handed feedback from the judge.

Results were posted by the time we’d finished with lunch and, sure enough, we were in quarterfinals. I heard Carla bitching about ‘that asshole judge’ and, while I had to chuckle inwardly a bit — and Cammie did on the outside, as soon as we were out of earshot — I could remember a less mature me who sometimes complained in the same way.

It was weird to remember that, in my first go-round, I had yet to even lay eyes on Meg Ames at this point in time. Sometimes I almost forgot that ‘me’ and his — my — own failings. I had a lot of sympathy for my friends and their foibles. Perhaps I needed to think more kindly of people I didn’t actually like, as well. They were just teenagers and, while I was, too, I also really wasn’t.

Quarterfinals were ... more of the same. I didn’t know the two guys we were debating beyond vague impressions, and they didn’t appear to know us, either. Their case was something to do with delaying arms sales to Central America until ... something. I couldn’t quite figure out what the criteria were for resumption. It seemed like the President could simply certify that the recipients were acceptable, and — if so — were they actually reducing anything, given that the President was involved in these sales in the first place?

I had a suspicion they’d won before because no one could pin them down to much of anything. We went after their not really doing anything, but also all of the usual objections we’d have if they were doing something.

Messy rounds make for uncertain outcomes, and this was one.

The judge got on all of us for how messy it’d been, but they got more criticism. She couldn’t seem to get any solid answers out of them about what they were actually proposing, either. To their credit, they did have some really great quotes from credible people that seemed to support their approach but, if I had to guess, they were just out of context enough to explain the missing pieces.

They weren’t going to post results until the morning, so we’d just have to live with uncertainty. Mid-afternoon we all gathered together and started on the task of sorting and copying the mountain of evidence we all had. Tomorrow would be worse, since no one wanted their filing system demolished today with more rounds tomorrow, but we had to get started.

In theory, we’d leave with a complete set of every quote that anyone at the program had unearthed. In practice, I imagined there’d be omissions, almost all simply by error. And we’d wind up with multiple copies of some of the ones everyone used, even though we’d try our best to weed those out.

Doing this with computers would have helped immensely, but they didn’t have the resources, and many of these kids couldn’t type, either. Sadly, we were still years too early for computers to have much of a role here.

Gail was back for dinner. She’d come over with Angie, who was slowly but surely getting better. Everyone exchanged hugs and we all caught up. Angie and Gail were buzzing about their show, which was apparently coming together nicely. Cammie and I caught them up on our progress in the tournament.

“They should’ve had this where the Debaters watched our show and we watched the Debate finals,” Angie said.

I shrugged. “You and I would be interested, but do you really want half the audience to be people who are at a musical only because they were forced to be there?”

Cammie nodded. “And I wouldn’t want to have a round where half of the audience is bored and has no idea what we’re doing.”

Gail giggled. “I would be interested, but ... yeah. Some of my peers would be looking for ways to distract themselves. Probably annoying ways.”

“We can be just as annoying,” Cammie said. “Probably throwing things to each other. Or at each other.”

“I was thinking spitballs,” Gail said, still giggling.

As before, we all walked back to the girls’ dorm together. Gail and I managed a bit of making out along the way.

“Get a room!” Cammie yelled.

“If we could, we would!” Gail yelled back. Then she turned to me. “Well ... maybe. But, we can’t.”

“We can’t.”

“Sucks.”

“It does.”

She gave me another kiss. “Still, it’s fun.”

“It is.”

“See you tomorrow, or Friday, depending on how the show’s going.”

“See you then!”

I gave Angie and Cammie hugs and started back to my dorm.

8pm found me on the phone with Jasmine.

“So, did you drag her off?”

I chuckled. “We talked about it. Cammie yelled ‘get a room’ tonight, but ... no rooms. I think we’d both like to and, if we were in Houston...”

“Library stacks. Bathroom. Heck, a quiet field or something. Go for it!”

“Honey ... it’s just not going to work. I’ll be fine. So will she. She might not be if we just ... make it work.”

“Poo. She’ll be more than just fine. I know you.”

“I meant, going back home.”

“Eh. Well, you know what I think.”

“I do, and...” I hesitated, but I needed to say this. “ ... I think you’re pushing maybe a little too hard.”

“Am I?” She didn’t seem surprised by my comment. Or to be taking it very seriously. “Mayyyyybe. Sometimes you need a push, boyfriend.”

“Sometimes I do. How’s Blue?”

“Blue is good. Well, Blue is naughty, and that’s good,” she said. “We’re having fun.”

“I’m glad.”

“Oh, I’m glad, too! How’s Angie?”

“Mending. She’s not limping as much, now.”

“Good! And how’s Cammie?”

“Great. We’re through two rounds of the tournament. Hopefully we’ll break. We should; that last round I feel pretty good about.”

“Yay! Kick ass, Steve!”

“I’ll do my best.”

“Love you!”

“Love you, too!”

I dwelt on it a bit when I got back to my room. Jasmine really was pushing. I knew it was important to her that I embraced our open relationship, including opportunities with other girls as they came along. Aside from Sue, it was arguable that I hadn’t done that. I mean, if you took the perspective that Jasmine was ‘responsible’ for the Drama girls, and I thought that pretty much was her perspective.

But ... Gail wasn’t a real opportunity. I was convinced of that. It wasn’t me to go off with someone for a one-night stand when I had no idea of how it’d affect her and where I’d be in a terrible place to help if it went poorly. Nor, honestly, was Gail all that set on doing something. Trying to learn my lesson from Laura, I could say, honestly, that Gail and I were ‘dating,’ and that she was at least curious and likely ‘willing.’ For most guys, that’d be enough. But ... I’m not most guys.

I was fine chalking this up to poor timing and maybe a life lesson about trying to meet people sooner. If Gail and I had met the first week, things might be different.

Why wasn’t Jasmine ready to just let it go? Because it’d prove to her that I really embraced things? I hadn’t realized that was a concern anymore.

This bore more thought. I just wasn’t getting very far with all the thought I’d given it so far.

Thursday, July 22, 1982

Cammie and I broke again, as I’d been quietly expecting. We headed off to the assigned room and got settled.

“Hey!” I heard from the doorway. Wesley was heading in. Apparently Tina, who I only somewhat knew, was his partner. She was from upstate New York, somewhere or other.

“Hi, Wesley! Hi, Tina!” I called.

“Hey, y’all,” Cammie said.

“Hi, Cammie, and hi, Steve,” Tina said, smiling back.

“So, how’re you this morning?” Wesley said.

“Nervous,” I said. Cammie nodded along. “Yourselves?”

“Nervous, too,” Tina said.

“Tired,” Wesley added.

“Oh, me, too!” Cammie said. “I’m going to sleep a week when I get home. I’m not sleeping well here.”

Tina nodded. “I’m tired of being here. I want to do well in the tournament, but I’m ready to get home.”

“Me, too,” I said.

Wesley chuckled. “I’m not homesick, but ... yeah. A bit of summer free time will be nice.”

The judge came in at that point and we all settled down. The round itself was ... good. Really good. One of the best rounds I’d been in, all around. Oh, none of us were nearly as good as that team Cammie and I had faced at Isidore Newman (though I thought the two of us had improved a lot since that round), but we were well balanced. Each of us was well-prepared, polished, and sharp. We came back at them; they came back at us.

The judge agreed, apparently. “Okay. Don’t let this go to your heads, but this is the best round I’ve seen this summer. I hope the teams on the other side of the brackets are as good, because, if not, this should’ve been the final round. All four of you should have a great year ahead of you if you keep this up. Believe me, we’d love to see more kids from our little program turn up at Nationals!”

He went on, critiquing things. The round being so good meant the critiques were better. Instead of generic things like ‘be more organized’ or ‘enunciate better,’ he was able to dig into the nuts and bolts of the case, point out weaknesses in evidence and strategy, suggest better cross-examination questions, and so forth.

Once he’d finished and left, and we were packing up, Tina said, “I think you two won it.”

“Huh,” Cammie said. “Really?”

Tina nodded. “Just that little edge. You’re partners all year, right?”

“Yeah,” Cammie said.

“See, that’s the thing. Wesley and I are three days in. We work well together, but it’s not the same. You have that ... connection. You know what the other is thinking. We spent too much time coordinating. I noticed you two just dug in instead of whispering back and forth.”

I smiled. “It really does make a big difference.”

“Are you...?” Tina asked.

Cammie got it after a second and blushed a bit. “No. Um ... I mean ... well, Steve and I already had someone when we met.”

“Of course, I changed dating partners twice, while Cammie’s never wavered since she met Cal.”

Cammie giggled a bit at that. I think I caught her off guard. She covered it well, though. “Yeah. He’s a big lug, but he’s my big lug. If things were different, though...”

“We’re best friends. Maybe that’s better than being romantic partners.”

Tina grinned. “Makes sense to me.”

Wesley stretched, putting the last of his evidence away. “Whoever wins, this was a pleasure. If it’s you, we’ll support you in the finals.”

“And vice versa,” I said.

“Best of luck!”

“You, too!”

They headed out, Cammie and I trailing them.

“I was sure you were going to say ‘Mel’ there. And it’d have been fine. No one here knows that’s not a guy’s name,” she said, giggling.

“Nah. You’re dating Cal. Everyone knows that. Sure, I could say Mel and it’d be totally fine. Until we meet one of them at an out-of-state tournament or Nationals or whatever and they say ‘Hey, how’s your boyfriend Mel?’ in front of the wrong people.”

“Oops. Yeah. I mean, it’s unlikely, but ... yeah. No reason to tempt fate. You’re always looking out for me.”

“I just don’t want a little mistake to bite you in your very cute ass.”

“That ass is off limits to you, mister!”

“A guy can look.”

“Hrm. Acceptable.”

Angie seemed much better at lunch. She was still using the crutches for longer walks, but she walked through the lunch line without them and didn’t seem to be wincing.

“Going to move around on stage after all?” Cammie said.

“No. Nooooo,” Angie replied, giggling. “It’s better, not good. I’m still risking re-injuring it. I can wait, and I’m better off waiting.”

“A theme, it seems like,” Cammie said with a slight smirk.

“Huh? Oh. Steve and Gail.”

I nodded. “Jasmine thinks I should just go for it.”

Cammie frowned. “She’s not here. It’s hard for her to really see the whole picture.”

“Oh, I know. Just saying. She’s a little pushy on it.”

“Well, I think you and Gail will do what’s right for you,” Angie said. “Don’t second-guess too much.”

“I won’t.”

“So, how’s the tournament?” Angie asked.

“Last round was ... maybe the best high-level round we’ve ever had,” I said.

Cammie nodded. “They’re not as good as the best we’ve debated, but we’re better than we’ve ever been, and they were really solid. Overall ... yeah, I could see saying that was the best round ever.”

“High praise, considering the times you’ve debated Janet and Lizzie,” Angie noted.

“That’s...”

“ ... different,” Cammie finished for me. “We know them. We’re friends. Yeah, we want to win, and they want to win, but it’d never be the same as two people from another school who we’re not close friends with.”

“Okay, I see that,” Angie nodded. “I guess I was thinking more level of competition, but you’re more ... pure competitiveness.”

“Yeah, that,” I said.

“So?”

“I think we won. They thought we probably won, too.” Cammie said. “That means they probably won.” She giggled a bit. “But who knows? They thought we had an edge since we’d been partners a year instead of three days.”