In the debate world, there are five unspoken rules. The first four are trivial; simple social laws that every sane person would understand.
But the last one. Now that's something.
Rule Number Five: Never, ever, under any circumstances, date your d...
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today's theme: collision
Round One, Western Secondary School, Lily and Irene, debating on the side of the affirmation.
Jisung hurried down the hallway of the third floor, Chan and Changbin following closely beside him. In the mass amount of people hurrying to their assigned rooms, it was hard to stick together. In many ways, it came right out of that first scene from Mean Girls.
Room three-twelve, three-fourteen...Jisung's eyes scanned the little room numbers engraved on the doors.
"Ah. Found them." Changbin had his phone out.
"Yerin and Kun, from Phoenix. Not wholly bad, says they made it to finals at some smaller, obscure tournaments. Ooh, a quarterfinalist in Beijing. Overall, quite plain, average, looks like it's going to be a standard match."
"So all I'm hearing is, you two are going to make them cry."
"Naturally."
Chan shook his head. "We never purposely try to make anyone cry! It's just all for the fun of debate."
"Maybe for you, but Changbin has no mercy," Jisung snorted. "It's part of why you guys are mildly famous here in the City's ring of debaters. Outside of your natural win record, of course."
They reached the end of the hall, where it split off into two. "I think you guys go that way," he pointed. "My room is right there."
"Alright then." Chan put down his briefcase and extended his hand out to pull Jisung into a man hug. "You'll do good, okay? This is your year."
"You sound like you're sending me off to my first day of school. We've been through this millions of times, you geezer."
Chan wiped away a fake tear as Changbin exchanged an embrace as well. "Yeah, but this is my last year on the team. I'm gonna miss sending my kids off."
Sharing a last nod before turning around, Jisung headed into the room marked for him.
And then it hit him.
The air conditioning and the bright lights hit him, that is, as soon as he walked in.
Wellington had some obscure obsession with making every one of their classrooms feel like a goddamn interrogation-slash-sterilization facility, like it came right out of The Good Place.
"I should've worn the overcoat today." He muttered under his breath, letting his eyes adjust to the glare before glancing around the room.
The judge hadn't arrived yet, but he could see two girls chatting at the front, where the two tables and the podium were.
One of them had her leg swinging over the side of a chair, going off about something, her curly hair bouncing in sync to her gossiping. Her shoe hung in the air, dangling off of her feet. The other one silently leaned against the rim of the table, aimlessly typing on her computer and pretending to listen.
