The Debate
The driver was already waiting. As I stepped outside, he came forward quickly to open the car door for me.
I slid inside without a word, and the door shut softly behind me. The ride to Westbrook High was silent, the city flashing past in muted streaks of gray. I didn’t bother speaking, and he knew better than to ask questions.
My reflection in the tinted glass stared back at me. It looked distant and hollow. I was already in a bad mood, and the day had only just begun.
The car rolled up to Westbrook’s front gates, the school’s red-brick facade stretching high against the gray sky. Perfect lawns, ivy climbing the walls, the school crest gleaming proudly above the arched entrance. A place that pretended to be polished, untouchable. Inside, it was all gossip, power plays, and fake smiles.
I came out of the car, walked straight through the hallways without glancing at anyone. My head was heavy with what happened this morning.
The classroom was already buzzing when I entered. Anita waved energetically from the corner, her ponytail bouncing with more energy than I could muster right now.
“Are you ready? The principal moved the time earlier. It’ll begin in thirty minutes.”
I raised a brow, calm in the face of her panic. “Anita, calm down. It doesn’t matter if I have to present it now. I’m totally ready.”
She pressed a hand to her chest, exhaling. “Okay, okay, phew.” Her eyes flickered over me, curious and searching.
“Besides… Why do you look different today?”
“Different in what way?” I repeated flatly, sliding into my seat.
“I don’t know… maybe hotter.”
“You must be seeing things.” I laughed softly, forcing my gaze onto my laptop. “Let me go over what I wrote.”
I opened the file, scrolling through my carefully crafted script. The words should have steadied me, but that same gnawing unease twisted low in my stomach. It never really left not when I had to share space with them.
There was only five more minutes to go and there was still no sign of Lucas.
“Did he chicken out?” I muttered under my breath, fingers drumming the desk.
And then, like the universe enjoyed humiliating me, he walked in.
The temperature in the room shifted the second he appeared. Heads turned and girls stared openly, their dreamy smiles spreading like a sickness. Their gazes clung to him as if he were the only thing in this school worth breathing for.
I rolled my eyes so hard it started to hurt.
He didn’t even glance at them. His gaze went straight to me. His steps were so measured and confident in a way no boy his age should be. He kept on walking until he got to me.
Before I could shift away, he leaned down. His breath brushed my ear, hot and infuriating. My pulse stuttered violently.
“Wha… what?” I stammered a little before my brain could catch up.
“Sorry I’m late,” he whispered, his voice smooth, threaded with smugness. “I was busy making preparations to engage my little wife this evening.”
The words hit like a slap and my eyes widened, body stiffening.
Engage?
“You’re in full agreement!” I hissed back, keeping my voice low, shock scraping down my throat.
He only straightened, composed as ever, lips curving in the faintest smirk. He glanced at his watch. “It’s time. Let’s go.”
And just like that, he started for the front.
My body betrayed me and I followed closely behind, my laptop clutched tightly, legs stiff as my thoughts twisted into chaos.
We reached the stage. The principal sat in the back with other teachers, stern gaze locked on us. Students whispered, buzzing like restless bees.
Lucas went first. His voice flowed smoothly and commanding, filling the auditorium with practiced ease.
“Centuries-old traditions are the backbone of civilization,” he said, his tone confident but deceptively warm. “They give us stability, identity, and guidance. Without them, society would crumble into chaos. To preserve tradition is to honor the wisdom of those who came before us.”
The teachers leaned in, nodding thoughtfully. A few girls in the front row actually clasped their hands like they were watching a movie star instead of a high school debate. Lucas basked in their attention, the perfect picture of poise.
I crossed my arms, nails digging into my sleeve. He kept going, weaving anecdotes about great leaders and quoting philosophers with that maddening ease of his.
Soon after, it was my turn.
I stood, my pulse thudded in my ears, but I forced my chin high.
“Traditions may have carried us this far,” I began, “but clinging to them blindly is the surest way to chain ourselves to the past.”
A few students whispered. The teachers straightened, their pens hovering.
I leaned into it. “Traditions were built by people no different than us people who lived in fear, in ignorance, in times where voices like ours were silenced. If we preserve everything at all costs, we also preserve their mistakes. Their cruelty. Their limits. Society only moves forward when we dare to evolve, when we challenge what no longer serves us.”
I saw Lucas’s jaw tightening, just for a second, before he turned it away with another perfect smile. I scoffed and rounded up my argument.
Then a ripple of clapping broke out from the back row, hesitant at first, then swelling until half the room was applauding. A few students even whistled.
The principal stood. “Impressive. Both of you. Very impressive.”
He paused, his gaze sweeping the room. “Now, as usual, we’ll let the class vote for who gave the strongest argument.”