And maybe learning to control less was exactly what I needed to do.
Chapter 13: Liam
The Kingswell auditorium smelled like old money. Polished brass. Velvet seats. The kind of place where even the air felt expensive.
The audience split down the middle like a river divided—Riverside on the left in hoodies and jeans, Kingswell on the right in blazers and designer casual. No overlap. No mixing. Just the invisible line that had always been there.
My knee bounced. Emily’s hand settled on my thigh—warm, grounding—but it didn’t stop the restless energy crawling under my skin.
My jaw clenched.
Emily’s fingers squeezed my leg. “You okay?”
“Yeah.”
I scanned the crowd without meaning to. Rows of faces I didn’t recognize. A few Riverside kids scattered through the audience, but mostly Kingswell students.
I didn’t know what I was looking for.
Or maybe I did, and I just didn’t want to admit it.
Emily followed my gaze. Her eyes moved across the auditorium, then back to me.
“Looking for someone?”
“No.”
Her thumb brushed the inside of my knee. “He’s going to do great. Relax.”
“I’m fine.”
I wasn’t fine. Sitting here, breathing Kingswell’s air, surrounded by kids in designer jackets—it made me feel sick.
The moderator stepped to the podium. Mid-fifties, silver hair, the kind of voice that expected people to listen.
“Welcome to the Riverside-Kingswell Inter-Collegiate Debate,” he said. Polite applause rippled through the auditorium. “Today’s format will be one-on-one debates across three topics. Each debate will last twenty minutes—opening statements, followed by rebuttals and cross-examination.”
He adjusted his glasses.
“Our topics for today: First, are inter-university rivalries detrimental to student wellbeing? Second, does competitive athletic culture reinforce emotional repression in men? And third, should elite private institutions be required to share resources with underfunded public schools?”
I leaned forward. Three debates. Three chances for Riverside to prove we weren’t just good on the water.
“Our first pairing,” the moderator continued, consulting his notes. “Riverside’s Sarah Chen versus Kingswell’s James Whitmore. Topic: inter-university rivalries and student wellbeing.”
Sarah stood—confident, sharp-eyed, ready. She walked to the stage like she owned it.
The debate started strong. Sarah argued that rivalries created toxic competition, unnecessary stress, reinforced harmful hierarchies. Whitmore pushed back—claimed rivalries builtcharacter, fostered excellence, gave students something to rally behind.
I agreed with him until Sarah dismantled him. Cited studies on anxiety rates, spoke about how rivalry culture normalized unhealthy obsession. She was right about unhealthy obsession. But it wasn’t just some study... I lived it every day for the last year.
By the time rebuttals rolled around, it was clear.
Riverside took the first one.
Emily squeezed my hand. I squeezed back.
“One down,” I said.
