“Our second pairing, Kingswell’s Alexandra Morrison versus Riverside’s David Park. Topic: competitive athletic culture and emotional repression in men,” the moderator said.
My chest tightened.
Emily glanced at me and raised an eyebrow.
I kept my eyes forward.
Morrison took the stage first. Polished, prepared, spoke like someone who’d been trained in debate since middle school. She argued that athletic culture created safe spaces for male bonding, taught discipline, provided healthy outlets for aggression.
David countered. Talked about how athletes were taught to suppress vulnerability, how “toughen up” replaced “talk about it,” how performance became more important than mental health.
Every word hit closer than I wanted to admit. But it was true. Noah had already proven this to me... and he was right.
Emily’s hand found mine again. She leaned in, voice low. “Sound familiar?”
“I’m working on it,” I said.
We both smiled.
The debate continued. David was good, but Morrison was better. She pushed back on his assumptions, forced him to defend positions he hadn’t expected to defend.
The judges deliberated.
Kingswell won but the argument didn’t convince me. It was a narrow margin, but a win.
One to one.
“And our final pairing,” the moderator said, “Riverside’s Noah Patel versus Kingswell’s Benjamin Crawford.”
Here we go.
This was it. Noah walked onstage from the left. Calm. Focused. The version of him who’d probably one day be doing the same thing on Capitol Hill.
From the right came the Kingswell team. The kid was tall with orange hair and wire-rimmed glasses, looked like his family had a library wing somewhere. That was Crawford.
The moderator announced the question.
“Should elite private institutions be forced to share resources with underfunded public schools?”
Noah started his opening statement and his voice cut through the room. He didn’t have any cards and he didn’t mumble.
Damn.
“The question before us isn’t whether elite institutions should share resources. The question is whether we believe education is a right or a luxury. Because right now, the answer is clear. It’s a luxury. And that luxury is reserved for those who can afford velvet auditoriums and brass railings.”
A ripple of laughter moved through the crowd. A few Kingswell kids shifted in their seats.
Noah didn’t smile. Didn’t acknowledge it. Just kept going, his tone sharpening.
“Public schools across this country operate with outdated textbooks, overcrowded classrooms, and teachers who spendtheir own money on supplies because their budgets have been gutted. Meanwhile, institutions like Kingswell spend millions on facilities that benefit a fraction of the population. That’s not meritocracy. That’s systemic inequality with a trust fund.”
A smile cut across my face.
God damn, he has some guts to go up there and say that in the belly of the beast.
Crawford stood for his rebuttal. Adjusted his glasses and smoothed his blazer.
“My opponent makes an emotional appeal, but emotion doesn’t replace sound economic policy. Private institutions generate value through innovation and excellence. Forcing resource redistribution would—”
