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: consciousness
Minho twirled his pen in his hand once before pointing it at his computer screen. "Okay, next line. You're on the affirmation, opponents have just finished their first constructive speech, wherein you immediately enter questioning. Aurelia calls it the turnpike strategy."
Florence nodded, rapidly typing into her own laptop, eyes focused in concentration.
The end of summer called for many things: last minute trips to the beach, back-to-school sales at the local department store, and cashing out final seasonal passes at entertainment parks. Especially for freshly-graduated eleven year olds, that particular summer became the prime time to rattle out the remaining beads of childhood before middle school dawned upon them.
That was the case for most students, though. In other words, everything the two of them chose not to be since fourth grade.
Minho's desk sat in the left corner of his room, directly underneath his large window. On a cloudy day like today, soft white light poured through the satin curtains, directly shining over their heads as they made it through the afternoon.
Empty drinks and dirty plates scattered the edge of his table, products of hours of work, accompanied by papers, notebooks, and piles of notepads—all of which sat in front of half-exhausted duo.
Minho picked up a cantaloupe with a toothpick, popping it in his mouth. "And then that branches into three routes. Either they go for defense and backtrack onto their first contention, they deflect and avoid the question by circling around, or they try to warp it into your fault."
He bit down on a strawberry. "In any scenario, you need to block them from even attempting that. Call them out on their response, make it blatantly clear, and then you've cornered them."
"But only use this in the event that they go for a prewritten rebuttal," Florence said. Taking her hands off the keyboard, she reached for a pineapple slice.
"Yep. That's why it doesn't work from a negation standpoint." Minho grabbed the plate of fruit, moving it away. "Hey. No distractions. We took a snack break thirty minutes ago."
"You're eating right now!"
"That's because I don't have to do any typing." He stuck his tongue out. "Also, I'm hungry. You ate most of the chips."
He poked her lightly. "Come on. The sooner we finish, the sooner we can go to Joe's House."
Florence shook her head in amusement. "If it's not debate on your mind, then it's food. Your brain amazes me."
"That's reliant on the fact that he has a brain," Feifan said, coming into the room. "Hate to break it to you, Flo, but you probably don't wanna know the answer to that."
Minho instantly swiveled around in his chair. "What a lovely way to enter my house. So happy to see you."
"Welcome back," she grinned, sinking onto Minho's bed. "I almost missed your ugly face."
