Good afternoon, Future Sam. The topic for debate is that Sammie will attend a party at Ross Nervig’s house, Friday, April 29. We define the topic as follows: A party is a gathering of adolescents in a residence where no parents are present and alcohol is present. “Sammie” is an eighteen-year-old who has not previously attended a party. “Ross Nervig” is a former student at Hanover who regularly facilitates parties as they have previously been defined. We, as the affirmative team, believe this statement to be true, and that Sammie will attend her first party.
As the first and only speaker, I will be discussing the professional benefits of attending said party, the feasibility of Sammie’s parents allowing her to attend, and the likelihood of the presence of Stuart Shah at said party.
My first point addresses the conditions under which Sammie’s attendance at the party was requested, and how Sammie’s fulfillment of this request will further her professional goals. Sammie aspires to win the National Debate Tournament in two weeks. At debate practice, Maddie Sinclair mentioned the party as a reward for their hard work.
We define “Maddie Sinclair” as Sammie’s debate partner of three years, a regular attendee of parties at Ross Nervig’s house, and a future student at Emory University. Find Maddie in every school play, as the head of the Queer Union, and in the center of an orbit of theater kids and film kids. (She once told me she’s like Rufio in that old Peter Pan remake Hook, and all of her friends are the Lost Boys. For the record, I Googled it, and her hair, currently a bright red Mohawk, is pretty close.) Today, Maddie and Sammie were trying on their National Debate Tournament pantsuits in the girls’ bathroom next to the government classroom. I will now relay the transcribed exchange verbatim, in support of the affirmative:
Maddie: My butt in this pantsuit makes me want to jump my own bones.
Me: It’s like I finally know what people mean when they say “hourglass figure.”
Maddie: So true! Looking good, Sammie.
Me: I was talking about you. I look like a box.
Maddie: Whatever.
Me: Your affirmative rebuttal is killer now. Alex kept pretending to have to sneeze but you know she was just killing time.
Maddie: Right? (facing Sammie) Your closing is airtight, too. We’re set.
Me: We’re not set…
Maddie: We’re as set as we’re going to be at this stage. I say we cancel Friday practice.
Me (cautionary): Maddie…
Maddie: Fine.
Me: You can. I’m not.
Maddie: No, it’s fine…
Me: Why, you have somewhere to be?
Maddie: Ross Nervig’s having a party and I want to pregame.
Me: It’s cool. You go. I can work on other stuff tomorrow.
Maddie: You want to come?
Me: Nope.
Maddie: Come.
Me: No, thanks.
Maddie (narrowing her eyes at me, thinking of an argument): We need to bond as friends.
Me: This is friendship.
Maddie: This is a bathroom at school, next to a government classroom at school. We need to be less institutionalized. We need to be on each other’s level. We need to feel each other’s rhythm.
Me: …
Maddie: You disagree?
Me: I don’t disagree, but my parents would never let me go.
Maddie: What if they did?
Me: They won’t.
Maddie: Ignore the conditions, acknowledge the desire.
Me: You sound like an inspirational quote poster.
Maddie: See? This! Your zingers. You’re secretly fun.
Me: I’m not secretly fun. I am openly fun.
Maddie: People who have to label themselves as “fun” are not fun.
Me: That’s not true.
A silence passes between us wherein both of us acknowledge that this is true.
Maddie: I want to see you drink! Seriously, you probably don’t believe this, but smart people are the best partiers.
Me: Prove it.
Maddie: No! You know why? (pretending to brush dirt off her shoulders) I just want to rela-a-a-x with you. I just want us to relax so I don’t have to feel like I always have to be top of my game around you. You know what I mean?
Me: I think. Like I stress you out?
Maddie (pauses): Kind of. You’re just really intense.
Me: That’s not my problem.
Maddie: It will be if I start hating you and want to quit debate.
Me: This is true.
Maddie: Plus, I can tell my mom that I’m spending the night with you so I can break curfew.
Me: Just tell her you’re staying with Stacia!
I go into a stall to change out of the pantsuit.
Maddie (from outside): You know I can’t tell my mom I’m spending the night at Stacia’s because she’d never believe me. Stacia’s like a little mouse who lives in a little mouse hut, and I don’t think she’s even come out to her parents.
Me: Oh.
Maddie: You don’t have to go to the party. I was just saying.
I emerge. Maddie has never asked me for this kind of favor. I’m curious, and I don’t want her to hate me or feel stressed out around me. (Note: I just hope forced social interaction doesn’t worsen this effect.)
Me: Okay, we’ll go.