The Debate Team — Chaos, Panic, and a Dash of Delusion
It was fifth period — unofficially renamed "apocalypse prep hour."
The group had all collapsed onto the far table in the school library, textbooks and folders scattered like battlefield debris, every single one of them in full-on crisis mode.
"WE'RE GONNA DIE," Ron declared, dramatically flopping face-first onto his notes.
"Literally," Aryan groaned, tossing a stress ball into the air like it was a prayer to the universe. "Why does Coach act like we're going to the freaking Olympics instead of a high school stage?"
"Speak for yourself," Kiara muttered. "I haven't even finished half my impact lines. I am a fraud."
"You guys," Meera cut in, flipping frantically through her binder. "I memorized an entire case for last year's topic. I thought it was still climate change!"
Everyone gasped.
"You're done," Rey said solemnly.
"Dead," Siya nodded.
"Buried," Saachi added.
"Hope you like ghosts," Aryan whispered, eyes wide.
Meera covered her face with her notes. "I hate all of you."
Jaanvi, quiet in the corner, gave the tiniest laugh.
She hadn't meant to.
But it escaped.
A little breathy.
A little tired.
But real.
Aditya noticed.
He was sitting across from her, spinning his pen between his fingers — a habit he picked up whenever he was trying not to say something.
She still looked pale. Still had that flushed forehead and glassy eyes. But her laugh? That tiny break in her armor?
It warmed something in his chest.
"Okay, okay," Rey said, raising a hand like they were all in court. "Let's rank our chances of surviving."
"Zero," Saachi said immediately.
"Negative twelve," Ron added.
"I give myself a 2% chance," Meera offered.
"Optimistic," Kiara said.
Jaanvi leaned back in her chair, arms crossed, the faintest smile on her lips. "You guys are so dramatic."
Aditya smirked. "Says the girl who wrote three full casebooks in one night and collapsed during practice yesterday."
"I didn't collapse," she protested weakly.
"You definitely leaned," he shot back.
"Leaning is not collapsing!"
"It is when you look like you're about to spontaneously combust."
The table dissolved into laughter.
Even Aditya laughed.
And it wasn't the sarcastic smirk or that half-grin he threw around in class. It was real. Soft. Easy.
For the first time in a long time, it felt like... eighth grade again.
Before things broke.
Before everything got messy.
Just them — their loud, dramatic, chaotic little group, convinced they were dying over a test, but really just living.
As the laughter died down, Isaar spoke up, calm and dry as ever:
"Coach Carter wants Jaanvi to lead the mock debate again tomorrow, right?"
Everyone turned to her.
She nodded once. "Yeah. With Aditya."
A beat of silence.
Then Saachi grinned. "Oh good. Our power duo returns."
Aditya rolled his eyes, but he didn't argue.
Jaanvi opened her mouth to say something — a protest, maybe, or a joke — but the words tangled in her throat.
Not because she didn't want to lead.
But because for the first time... she didn't feel alone in it.
Some stress is loud.
Some pressure is crushing.
But laughter? Laughter is proof you survived the day.
And sometimes, surviving together is enough.
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