In the debate world, there are five unspoken rules. The first four are trivial; simple social laws that every sane person would understand.
But the last one. Now that's something.
Rule Number Five: Never, ever, under any circumstances, date your d...
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today's theme: realizations
Jisung pulled his shirt over his head and tossed into the locker. Next to him, Minho was switching out of his running shoes into his sneakers.
Fourth period was shared by Dance and the Freshman Athletics Class, one in the studio and one in the gym, and both in the locker room.
The locker room was like a conglomeration of everything you expected from an adolescent male: sweat, laughter, and loud talking. You had boys fresh out of jerseys and shorts that were long overdue for a wash. You had conversations of soccer, music, and girls floating around and invisibly mingling together into the brand known as the younger generation.
And, you had three debaters—well, two and one supposedly retired—still going about the one thing you'd ever expect them to talk about.
Whether or not they really ever thought about anything else, that was still in question.
"I'm betting two."
"We had two from a stupid poster alone last year. The video's gotta do us justice. Three."
"You lost the bet last year. It's not happening."
Minho stopped tying his shoes. "Wait, these are such low wagers. Your expectations are that small?"
Changbin plugged his earbuds into his phone and leaned against the lockers, waiting for the two of them to finish changing. "You saw the numbers on Monday. We're kinda dying."
He began drumming his fingers on his lap. "Don't really blame the people for not being interested, though. Around here, the reputation of debate isn't all too hot."
Minho bit his lip. "That's unfortunate."
"Is that not normal for all schools?" Jisung sat down on the bench next to him to slip on his shoes as well. "How many people did you have on your old team?"
Minho shrugged. He picked up his bag and started walking out, the two boys following him. "I don't know, we had so many back then that we had to go through three rounds of application processes."
Jisung would have to start keeping track of the amount of times Minho had made his jaw drop in the last seventy-two hours.
Changbin coughed loudly. "That's insane. I knew the people from your school were good, but I didn't think they were exclusively picked like an assortment of artisan coffee beans or something."
The three of them turned left at an intersection in their hallway, heading towards the dining hall. Lunch was in full swing, and in an indelibly small, yet swishy-swashy school like the Academy, that meant a heaping serving of privilege seasoned with a hint of elitism. In other words, literal restaurant food.
Since they were coming from the gymnasium, they had the longest traveling distance out of any of their friends, and that also meant crossing the paths of the most people. Jisung tried his best not to stare back at the fleeting glances of everyone they passed by, their eyes planted on the back of the new boy himself.
