Chapter 114: To State, One Last Time

Wednesday, April 18, 1984

School was again quiet. Well, that, or we were simply focused and ignoring all of the distractions.

Steffie pretended to be upset that so many of us weren’t focused on the musical, but she wanted her kids to get the chance to go to Nationals, too. We had plenty of serious contenders on the Drama side. For now, State, then ToC, were the focus. ‘Bye Bye Birdie’ would take care of itself when we were past those two.

Or, rather, we would take care of business, just as we had the past three years.

During Debate, Cammie and I (mostly me, but she helped) polished our two primary backup cases. Something was telling us that we might need one or both at State. If there was ever a time for strategic moves in switching cases, State would be it.

Life would go on if we didn’t go to Nationals. For that matter, life would go on if we utterly bombed. Cammie and I had never utterly bombed, and the odds were that we wouldn’t here, either, but anything’s possible.

The lesson of the past week truly was that Debate wasn’t the most important thing for any of us. It paled in comparison to ... well, life.

But life was back to working for us right now, and we’d gone from ‘State is a lagniappe’ to ‘Nationals is the goal’ over the past years. Make it or not, it was the goal, and an awful lot of work had gone into it.

However, that would be true of perhaps the top eight or more teams at State. Just at Memorial, many teams had put in the work. Summer programs, countless hours at the library, or practicing, or polishing cases, or whatever. I couldn’t even say that I’d put in as many hours, perhaps — not with Drama competing for time.

One way or another, we’d know the answer in under a week.

And — again — we’d be fine no matter what the answer was. Whatever the reason might be that I’d gotten this second chance — if there was a reason — it wasn’t to win Debate rounds. That much I was sure of.

Goal or not, plans or not, all of Debate was a lagniappe. The most important things we’d achieved via Debate had nothing to do with Debate itself. Many lives had been changed — and bettered, I was certain. Cammie, Lizzie and Janet, Gene, Sue, and Amit were the most obvious answers, but there were many more.

Just a few days to go. No slacking off now. We’d leave it all in the rounds, for better or for worse.

Dinner turned out to be Pho King. Soup (without leftovers, this time, because we wouldn’t eat them for days) was a nice and easy plan.

We talked mostly about the trip — places we’d like to visit, and places we wouldn’t. There were many on the former list, and very few on the latter list. Jas felt that she’d be comfortable anywhere we were. Paige wasn’t much on parts of the Deep South, but not opposed. I wanted to get to Yellowstone, having had a couple of great trips there in my first life.

Angie was big on the West Coast and mountains, and Paige agreed. At first, some of the plains states weren’t on anyone else’s list, but I came up with a few memorable things there.

None of us had spent much time in the Northeast (even counting my first life), so it was on everyone’s list. Jas, Angie, and Paige all wanted to see Broadway, and I did, too. Of course, the RV was not a practical vehicle for city driving. We would have to figure something out there, most likely involving a campground and a towed car (or possibly a rental).

I had an idea there. We’d have to see how it worked out.

We headed back to Jasmine’s house, where things took their usual course, involving Jas and me having a very pleasurable time together, with the occasional sound through the wall letting us know Angie and Paige seemed to be enjoying themselves, too.

As all things must, we eventually ran out of energy and wound up snuggling.

Jas sighed. “I’m getting more and more jealous of our nights together.”

“Me, too, honey. Soon.”

“Very soon! We’re doing the right thing. I’m impatient, but changing things now in a big way would be wrong. More weekends, but that’s it.”

I nodded. “And not every weekend, especially with us gone the next three.”

“Three? We’re only gone this weekend and next.”

“Did you actually think we were going home after Prom?”

Jasmine blushed, then giggled. “How did I forget that Prom is only two and a half weeks away?”

“Got me.”

She giggled and rubbed her head against my chest, then said, “And I’m never letting go.”

I hugged her. “Me, neither.”

She shifted a bit, looking up more fully. “No questions this time — fair or unfair — but you do have the benefit of experience on that.”

“I think the way I’d phrase is that, if either of us were to let go, it would be because we’d changed — one or both of us — so profoundly that the people we were holding onto weren’t the people we’d started out with.”

She blinked. “I ... agree. Interesting way to put it!”

“We’re both going to change. Mom and Dad aren’t the people they were when they said ‘I do.’ Camille and Francis aren’t either; they’ve made that clear. I think the changes will bring us closer, but there’s no predicting that, and some of those changes could be out of our hands.”

“What do you...?” she said, then bit her lip. “Oh! I get it. Bad things that we can’t stop, only react to.”

“Exactly.”

“I see why you stopped. No point inviting trouble! You’re right, though. Mama and Papa have made it very clear that they’ve changed, and that it’s been good for them. It’s weird thinking of you growing and changing, since you’ve done that, but...”

“But I’ve never been married to you,” I said, “I’ve never gone to college with you. I’ve never done dozens of things we’ll do next year, and even the things I have done will be profoundly different.”

She blushed a bit when I said ‘married’ — as I’d expected — and sniffled a bit. “Even after this long, that still gets to me,” she said.

“It gets to me, too,” I said. “That’s going to be one very happy day, and one great party.”

She giggled. “It will be, won’t it?”

“I’m looking forward to a lot of weddings. In my first life, I had exactly one college friend get married while I was in college. Another — Dave Mayrink, who wasn’t really a college friend — made it a few years later. The rest took longer than I did, which is actually really weird. I know more people right now who seem on a path to getting married than I went to weddings total in my first life.”

“Also a funny thought, and a good one.”

She paused, and got a little redder again.

“You know ... you think ... and I think ... are we...?”

I smiled and gave her a quick kiss. “The words will still matter. I think we’re where there’s no question that we’ll get there, but until someone asks and someone answers ... we’re more ... promising that we will, one day.”

“Someone?” she said, and poked me in the chest.

I smiled. “Do you actually think I’d ever say that you couldn’t do something you wanted to do?”

She blinked twice, then sniffled hard. “That ... was ... I love you, Steve Marshall!”

“And I love you, Jasmine Nguyen.”

“What I want to do is answer,” she said, grinning.

“Well, then! That settles that!”

“Good!”

All good things must come to an end, and they came to an end for us with a shower. We didn’t budge until we heard Angie and Paige take a shower of their own, but then took one quickly ourselves, then met them in the living room, where they were talking with Camille.

As we came in, Camille said, “We were just talking about how much I’ll miss nights like this.”

I leaned down and hugged her. “Many more. Not as often, but wherever you are, we’ll be there regularly.”

She smiled, looking at Jasmine. No words were exchanged, but I think they had a good, and very happy, conversation anyway.

We parted with hugs and kisses, then dropped off Paige (with more hugs, and kisses from Angie).

When she settled into the front seat, Angie said, “Home, James!”

“James?”

“My chauffeur shall be named James,” she said, attempting a ‘high society’ accent.

“Well, then,” I said, getting the car started.

“Did what happened to us happen to you?” she said.

“Depends. Were body parts involved?” I said, wiggling my eyebrows.

“Yes,” Angie said. “Specifically, brains, and mouths saying words thought up by said brains.”

“Well, then ... probably?”

“We got into a fairly deep conversation about the future.”

“Us, too,” I said.

“I think it’s all the impending birthdays. Things are changing. Change is good, but it’s also scary. Paige wanted to touch base.”

“So did Jasmine. Not in a nervous way, just...”

“In a ... confirmational ... sort of way,” Angie said.

“Exactly.”

She sighed, smiling. “When we met in the hospital for the first time, I could not have imagined I’d have someone who was very likely ‘the one’ before graduating high school. The idea that you would was...”

“Nearly unthinkable,” I said.

“Then, once Study Group started, at least in the back of my head I knew you were actually looking for ‘the one.’ My conscious mind refused to believe it, because it was the least Iceberg Steve thing imaginable, and however much I’d thawed you, it couldn’t be that much.”

“Took me longer to notice that about you.”

“Oh, that’s because I wasn’t,” she said. “Not until Max. Max was by God going to be ‘the one’ if I had to reshape him to fit the mold. Instead, he kept trying to reshape me, until you fixed things. With Gene, I was trying to get my feet back firmly on the ground and figure out what I wanted. Turned out to be Paige, but that thought didn’t cross my mind until she’d stolen my heart without my even noticing.”

“She’s special.”

“She is. So’s Jas. I think both of them would’ve been special anyway, but we did make them ... well, more special.”

“I’ll allow it, for the purpose of debate.”

She giggled. “Yeah. We shouldn’t let our egos run away with us. Still ... I think we did.”

“I think we gave them room to be their best selves.”

“Good one! I’ll remember that. Helps that it’s almost certainly true,” she said, grinning.

“Almost certainly!”

I parked at the house and we headed in, holding hands.

Angie crawled into my bed just a bit after I had, after turning out the light on her way in. We rubbed noses, then snuggled up.

“Not much more to say,” she said. “I think we said it in the car.”

“Me, too.”

“Nervous?” she said.

“About State? A normal and appropriate amount.”

She giggled. “Me, too. It’s a big deal, and then it’s also not.”

“Exactly.”

“The bizarre thing to me is that it is a big deal. This is a huge Angie 2.0 difference. First-life me would’ve mocked anyone who cared about State in Debate — or Drama — as a hopeless nerd.”

“Well, I was a hopeless nerd, so ... point, Angie.”

She giggled. “You weren’t hopeless. You were hope-full!”

“And another point to Angie.”

She hugged me. “Compared to your first life?”

“Oh, hell. Night and day. We never would have won State. Totally unrealistic. Gene and I might have. Maybe. We’d put in the work, between our year as partners and then Northwestern. When Gene’s father died and he decided he couldn’t deal with CX, and I had to get a new partner ... well, we were fine, but that’s it. Just... ‘fine.’”

“You never talk about him.”

“He’s not here. He never joined Debate this time. No idea why, but I’ve never seen him around the school. Maybe there’s a girl version of him. I haven’t tried to find out. Just ... it’s ... irrelevant. We had our times, but those times were forty years ago in another universe. He wasn’t a long-term friend then.”

She nodded. “Makes sense. And ... let’s sleep. I’m tired.”

“I am, too.”

We kissed softly, and then were off to sleep. Tomorrow was a big day. Two birthdays, a long bus ride, and the beginning of one very important ending.

Thursday, April 19, 1984

Many of us made it to school a few minutes early. When Gene drove up, we were ready to surprise Cammie with a round of ‘Happy Birthday’. That sent her into tears. Happy tears, naturally (and thankfully!)

We’d put off Paige’s round of it so that Cammie could participate. That made two full rounds in the school parking lot. Yes, people noticed, and a lot more people than I expected joined in.

Cammie’s first order of business was to go to the office and transfer everything about her registration to her own name. The staff had to contact Principal Riggs, who approved the change-over. The paperwork itself would take a day or two to sort out, but Cammie’s parents could no longer interfere, at least in theory.

After that, the day was almost normal until just after lunch, when those of us heading to State headed to the parking lot, transferred our luggage to the bus that would be taking us to State, and picked our seats.

We just barely fit on the bus at all. Forty-three of us were traveling to State this year, the most in my four years, and very possibly the most of any high school in the state. Meg or Steffie might be able to find out if that was correct.

For eighteen of us (somehow an appropriate number), this would be our last Debate or Drama trip in a big charter bus. We weren’t taking enough to ToC to warrant a bus this size, and we’d likely provide our own transportation to Nationals.