The Arcane Society

Chapter 31

September 25th

The Continental Turnabout, Breath Mints, and Marina

Today was the anticipated Social Studies debate. Everyone was pumped to give the other side, its just desserts. Myself included. Now begins the story of The Continental Turnabout.

September 24th, 1:10 PM

Classroom

We each took the aliases of important people. I was Patriot #4; Patrick Henry. I was to technically join the prosecution. For the question was, Should the colonies break away from Great Britain? I should explain our roles.

Patriots: Considered the Prosecution, they wish to break free of Great Britain's grasp and become America.

Neutralists: The Jury, they are to decide on who wins the argument.

Loyalists: The Defense, they wish to stay loyal to the crown.

The Honorable George Washington (The teacher) was to keep order in the classroom.

"Ladies and gentlemen of the debate, the court will come to order. I appreciate you all taking time out of your schedules to decide the colonies' fate. Are both sides ready? Sir Earl of Effingham may ask his question."

We nod politely, stifling laughter from her last name, the girl blushes profusely. I whisper over to The Squirrel, known as Ben Franklin.

"What kind of a name is that?"

He shrugs as I listen.

"Patriots, what sort of benefits would we receive if we split from Great Britain?" She asks.

Sir Washington acknowledges our team captain, Sir Thomas Paine. (Payne? Paine? Pain? I don't remember.)

"We'd have more rights and we wouldn't have any Taxation without Representation." She says.

"Would any of you like to add to that?" Dylan shoots his hand up, along with myself and The Squirrel. As Thomas Jefferson. Dylan's like a Nate, except more obnoxious and knows no bounds.

"Sir Thomas Jefferson?" She says with a sigh. He stands up and weaves to the floor. I'm ready to object to his presence, knowing full well, he's going to run his mouth in all the wrong directions.

Let's send him a signal. Pascal glances at me with expectancy.

I silently send him a chop-chop with my hands. SHORT. AND. SWEET!

He seems to not notice, but he suddenly collapses to the floor laughing.

DYLAN YOU IDIOT, YOU threw what LITTLE credibility we have! I shoot him a menacing glare and raise my hand.

This is bad, not even the loyalist's first rebuttal and we're losing badly. I've gotta turn the case on it's head. I glance over at The Squirrel and nod for conformation. He nods back. Fix this!!

"Sir Patrick Henry?" She says with annoyance.

"Before Sir Thomas Jefferson," I shoot Dylan a glare, "lost his train of thought. I believe he was to say that we're not saying we'd never pay taxes, but the taxes we pay, we have a say in them."

She nods in approval. "Sir Joseph Brent, your rebuttal?"

"Do you know why we implemented those taxes in the first place? So Great Britain could pay for the French and Indian War. Great Britain fought that war for you."

"Sir Ben Franklin?" She asks. I nod and give a small smile at him in encouragement. Telepathically, somehow, we're in sync.

"Yes, that is true. But did you have to fight that war? Think of Great Britain and the colonies as a parent and 13 children. Eventually, we wanted out of their house. We were governing ourselves just fine until you barged in and demanded taxes."

Why can't I shake off the feeling of awe? I can't let go of my crush on him...? Am I falling again?

"Loyalists, what would we benefit from staying with Great Britain?"

"King George?" The teacher asks.

"We would lessen the taxes and you wouldn't have to pay as much, but your rights are as to us."

"WAIT A MOMENT!" I blurted out, not waiting for my rebuttal. I got a evil glare from the teacher and abashed smiles from my team. "Our rights are restricted? That makes no sense! The reason we're fighting about this is that we don't have a say in anything. In fact, how can I tell this isn't a lie you've just spun?"

"Sir Patrick, despite the haste, has brought up a valid point or two. Loyalists?"

"We payed your war for you though." She objects

"Yeah, by heavily taxing us." The Squirrel shot back. I continued.

"Besides, if you wanted the money, why did you closedown Boston or give us a say?"

At that point, I felt so in sync with him. We dominated the Loyalists, hands down. But, my feelings...

I just want to reach out and hug him, tell things I wouldn't dare say to anyone else, and just wish things were like 7th grade.

But, I would have to sacrifice my grades. And I made that promise to Mom and Grandpa with all my heart.

At this stage of the game, either wait till high school, or hold it in.

And I left the debate in the Neutralist's hands and my feelings with mine.

September 25th: Breath Mints.

So, you know those thin sheets of breath mints? I tried one of those today. It went something like this

"Who wants a mint?" Marina asks.

"I do!" A plethora of us shout. Marlee takes what appears to be four wafers.

Marlee then split the wafer, one sheet for me, and a sheet for her. I pop the sheet in my mouth and a fireball hits me. I attempt to spit it out into a nearby trashcan, but it has already dissolved onto my tongue.

"MY MOUTH IS ON FIRE!" I scream, laughing and coughing.

Everyone laughs, but I'm starting to panic a bit. I do a crazy signal to the attendant for the bathroom and run!

I drink as much water from the water fountain as my mouth can hold. I run into the girls bathroom, where a ton of 6th graders are gathered around. I swallow the water and stick out my tongue at the mirror. I looked closely, and my taste buds looked a bloody red. Burnt.

"Aghhhh..." I sigh sharply and walk out of the bathroom into the lunchroom.

As soon as I sit. I face Marlee with a serious expression. "Exactly how many strips of mint did you give me?"

"I might've given you two."

I attempt to eat the Goldfish in front of me. It taste flavorless and I suddenly have a craving for sparkling water.

"I've lost my palette! Marlee, what have you done!?" I ask.

She given me two strips as to what appeared as one.

6th Hour: Marina

We were doing some ordinary math. I briefly introduced Dylan as an asshole. Which is true. He also keeps insisting we have a "thing." Marina sits in front of me.

"Dylan, riddle me this." No more games, I've caught you in your own grave. "Do you have any definitive evidence you can hold on to a relationship? For staters, you're pretty high on my hate list."

"Uh...pass? But, we have a thing, right Marina?"

"DYLAN, for ONCE in your SHORT, PITIFUL LIFE, would you PLEASE SHUT UP!?" Marina shouts. Dylan looks as if he's going to cry. I stifle laughter, which I'll admit, I was a bit cruel. But, Dylan and I have baaaad history.

Marina. The cool, calm, collected, proper British lady, lost her temper? It was something inconceivable to wrap my head around. Are my friends becoming me?

How do you like the new format? It separates each event in chronological order. Comment below.