Sunday, 2:17 PM.
The official school debate team was seated (and slouched) around the rectangular folding tables in Room 304 — the one Coach Carter had declared his war room. A dusty whiteboard stood in the corner with the words: "Victory is an Attitude" scribbled on it in barely legible marker.
Aditya leaned back in his chair, arms crossed, while Jaanvi sat on the opposite end, doodling little flowers on the margin of her folder.
Coach Carter strode in with an iced coffee in one hand, a folder in the other, and an aura of unbothered stress like a man who had already accepted defeat, just not in debate.
"Alright," he said, clapping once. "Let's talk logistics. We leave at 5:45 AM sharp tomorrow. Bring your printed waivers. Wear debate hoodies. Don't talk to me before caffeine. Questions?"
"Why 5:45?" one kid asked.
"Because pain builds character," Coach Carter deadpanned. "Now—room arrangements. We're staying in eight different hotels."
Jaanvi blinked. "Eight?!"
"They kept filling up. Apparently there's a tax law convention and a cheer competition happening at the same time in the city." He muttered something about capitalism and then pulled out a sheet. "So we're switching hotels almost every day. Fun, right?"
"That's the opposite of fun," Aditya said flatly.
Coach ignored him. "You'll room with someone different every night. No repeats. Keeps things... dynamic."
Jaanvi's heart stuttered. Please not Aditya, please not Aditya—
"Night one," Coach read off, "Jaanvi Vaidya and Sadie Martinez."
Phew.
"Night two... Aditya Singh and Leo Chen."
Even better.
"Night three—Jaanvi and Aditya."
Her pencil snapped.
"You okay?" Aditya asked casually, not even hiding the smirk on his face.
She glared.
"Night four, Jaanvi and Maya. Night five—Aditya and James. Night six... yeah, yeah, I'll send the rest on Google Docs."
"Wait," Jaanvi raised her hand, "isn't that kinda chaotic? Like switching rooms every night?"
"No," Coach replied, already sipping his iced coffee. "What's chaotic is the bus seating."
Everyone groaned.
Coach pulled up a PowerPoint titled: "Coach Carter's Bus Seating Algorithm: Pain Edition."
"The district made us take two buses instead of one. So... each day, half of you ride Bus A, half on Bus B. I randomized the seating chart. Assigned seats. Switched daily."
"That's so unnecessary," muttered Leo.
"So was that 17-minute rebuttal you gave last week, but here we are."
The screen changed again:
DAY 1 — BUS A: Row 5, Seat 1: Jaanvi. Row 5, Seat 2: Aditya.
"NOPE," Jaanvi said.
Aditya just grinned, arms behind his head. "You scared you'll lose a debate mid-highway?"
"I'm scared you'll breathe in my direction and start another argument about 'emotional evidence.'"
Coach looked up. "Do I need to remind y'all that I caught you kissing in a supply closet last week?"
Jaanvi looked like she wanted to melt through the floor.
"That footage is confidential," Aditya mumbled. "Right?"
"Anyway," Coach said, clapping again. "That's it. Bus at 5:45. Bring chargers, formal clothes, casual clothes, black blazers, ID cards, emergency contact cards, allergy meds, hair gel, snacks that won't stink, and for the love of God—no sharing beds. Even if it's a king bed. I will know."
"How?" someone whispered.
"I just will."
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