What If... All the Rumors Were True

by Liz Ruckdeschel

  “Resolved,” Annie read from a pile of papers on her desk. “Teenaged girls above the age of sixteen should be allowed to get breast implants without parental permission. My position is pro: a sixteen-year-old girl is old enough to know what she wants and should be allowed control over her own body. If she wants bigger breasts and can afford to pay for the surgery, she should be allowed to do whatever she likes within the limits of the law, even if her parents disapprove. Whitney?”

  Whitney nodded and said, “I agree.”

  Alex snickered.

  “No, Whitney, you’re supposed to take the con position,” Annie said. “See? What does it say on the paper I gave you?”

  Whitney blinked at the piece of paper in her hand. “It says con. Oh. But that’s not how I feel. I think girls should be able to get implants if they want. Why should their parents be able to boss them around?”

  “No, Whitney, you’re not getting the point,” Annie said. “This isn’t about how you really feel. You have to debate the side that’s given to you, no matter what your personal opinions. It’s an exercise in the ability to construct a logical argument. I personally don’t think girls should be allowed to get implants at all, but my assignment is to argue pro.”

  “What?” Whitney said. “That doesn’t make any sense. Why don’t we just switch sides?”

  Alex rolled his eyes and banged his gavel. “Thank you, Whitney Klein. The exit is at the back of the room. Next up, Haley Miller will have the pleasure of debating yours truly.”

  Whitney tottered away from the podium. “So I didn’t make the team?”

  Annie shook her head. “Sorry, Whitney.”

  Whitney sighed. “That’s okay. I think I still have time to make the spelling team tryouts.”

  “Good luck with that,” Alex said as Whitney left. He took his place behind the left podium as Haley got up out of her seat. Annie moved to the desk with the gavel.

  “Watch out for that guy,” a dark-skinned kid named Dale from Haley’s grade whispered as she walked to the front of the room. “He’s been all-state three years running. They call him the Trail of Tears because he’s made so many of his opponents cry.”

  “Resolved,” Alex read, once Haley had taken her post. “The economic needs of the business community should be sacrificed for the sake of the environment. Haley takes pro.”

  “Thank you, Alex,” Haley said in a strong voice. “The environment should always take first priority over the needs of big business. In fact, it’s in the corporate interest to operate in an ethical and sustainable manner. Business needs natural resources to fuel growth and supply product to its consumers. And without healthy workers and healthy customers, economies would collapse. Therefore, while in the short term it may be less profitable to adopt environmentally sound practices, in the long run, everybody wins.”

  Annie rapped once with her gavel. “Thank you, Haley, time’s up. Now Alex will present the con argument.”

  “Thank you, Annie.” Alex cleared his throat. “Haley, your arguments have been reiterated by ignorant tree huggers for generations now. That doesn’t make these sophistries any less ridiculous.”

  Haley felt the hair stand up on her forearms. How dare he insult her intelligence! She opened her mouth to protest, but Annie shook her head subtly. It wasn’t Haley’s turn. She had to sit through Alex’s rant and wait until it was time for her rebuttal.

  “If big business is forced to upgrade to cleaner technology overnight, you won’t have to wait for supply chains to run out or natural resources to be depleted,” Alex argued. “Economies will collapse instantaneously. Market equity will evaporate. Corporations will enter bankruptcy. We will lose our ability to harvest, process and transport food at a rate that can sustain our current worldwide population density. In the midst of such economic chaos and disorder, disease would spread and we would enter another era of plague. So in summation, the economy is far more important than our grasslands or forests. For what do forests and grasslands give us, anyway, if we can’t strip them of trees to make the paper we need in a bustling economy, or graze cattle on them to nourish our citizens with protein? This country was built on allowing big business unfettered use of this great land. If that means a few seals have to die because we need to drill for oil in Alaska, so be it.”

  Ding! Annie rang the bell. “Haley—rebuttal?”

  Haley had to tell herself to close her mouth, since her jaw had dropped open in astonishment at the brazen selfishness of Alex’s argument. Alex had to be the most irritating person Haley had ever met. But—and she would never have admitted this to anyone out loud—she couldn’t help but find him devastatingly handsome as he stood there glaring at her with such gusto and zeal. “Driving gas-guzzling SUVs is not a basic human right,” Haley replied. “It’s a luxury—a luxury that we must learn to do without before the entire planet is destroyed by our brazen, ignorant, piggish arrogance. What will happen when global warming causes the oceans to flood the coasts? How will your big businesses make money when their New York headquarters are swamped under a tidal wave? Business cannot afford to be shortsighted. We must think of the future, and that means preserving and caring for the planet. Not stripping it of everything we can take.”

  Ding! “Alex?”

  “Global warming is a myth. I challenge you to provide me with one ounce of indisputable proof that our use of carbon fuels has caused any permanent damage to the atmosphere.”

  Haley couldn’t believe this guy. “It’s people like you who are destroying the earth!” she shouted before she could stop herself. “You’re blind to the truth because all you can see is your own selfish greed!”

  “I’ve heard enough,” Alex said. “Haley just got personal. She obviously doesn’t have a grasp of the rules of debate. No emotion allowed. She’s too hotheaded to make a good debater. Sorry, Ms. Miller, but you’re not qualified to join the team.”

  “What?” Haley was stunned. He was making a judgment now, just like that, without even hearing the rest of the tryouts? How dare he call her unqualified, just because he disagreed with her! “You’re the one who’s taking things personally!”

  Annie shushed Haley and banged her gavel on the desk. “Overruled!” she shouted. “As cocaptain, I am revoking your vote, Alex. Haley Miller still has a lot to learn, but she’s got eloquence and passion. She’s in.”

  Thanks to Annie, Haley can now debate to her heart’s content. But does she really want to? Where did arguing ever get anyone, anyway?

  And what’s with this Alex guy? Does he really believe that stuff he was spouting about baby seals? Or is he just a very talented and objective debater? Could anyone be so hard-hearted? And what is it about him, aside from those hazel eyes, that Haley finds so attractive? Why does he get her head in such a twist?

  Speaking of being tongue-tied, Spanish superbod Sebastian Bodega is back in town. The question is, are he and Mia still an item? If you think Haley wants to give Alex a chance to show a less aggressive side, and to see what Sebastian is up to, go to "SPANISH FLY". If you think Haley should probably stay away from Alex and the whole debate team and find a less stressful extracurricular activity, go to "OPEN MIKE". Finally, if you think Haley needs more time to make up her mind, "THE BAG LADY".

  Is Haley really wanted on the debate team? Or will Alex just keep baiting her? And will this line of questioning bring her pain, or gain? Read on to find out.

  MATH OLYMPICS

  True or false: If you think too hard, you could pull a muscle in your brain.

  Finally, Haley thought with relief when she at last spotted the door marked MW 341: MATH OLYMPICS. She’d just spent ten minutes wandering through the notorious maze of corridors that was the math wing. It wasn’t her best time, but at least it was an improvement on the appalling half hour it had once taken her to get to geometry class.

  Haley paused before opening the door. Sure, Reese was inside waiting for her, but was she really cut out to compete in the Math Olympics? She knew her way arou
nd a quadratic equation, but solving for x as the clock ticked down to zero, in front of ten or twenty intimidating adults and peers? This wasn’t exactly an activity Haley had ever imagined herself excelling at. But, her hottie neighbor had suggested that they compete together, and her transcript did need the help, so she was beginning to think it was worth at least a try.

  Haley opened the door and found herself standing in a typical classroom, with dry-erase, chalk-and bulletin boards on three walls; one wall was lined with windows that looked out onto the math wing’s enclosed rotunda. The building had been constructed to architecturally mimic the double-helix structure of DNA.

  Reese was at the head of the room consulting with a lanky, long-faced man in baggy pants, a lumpy sweater vest and owlish glasses. The man was stabbing at a piece of paper with a pencil. “No, no, no, you’ve got the parabolic curve in the negative quadrant,” he thundered, clearly annoyed at this rare mistake on Reese’s part. “Your data is all askew, Highland.” Haley accurately guessed that this was the famed AP calculus teacher, Cosmo Milosevic, who was known for tearing down his pupils completely before building them back up, sometimes into award-winning mathematicians. He’d sent a student to a national chess competition the previous fall. Mr. Milosevic was checking Reese’s work aloud—public scrutiny was just one of his effective sharpening tools—and Reese was so engrossed in the critique, he didn’t even notice Haley standing by the door.

  “Ahem,” she said, clearing her throat to no avail. Haley couldn’t help feeling a little disappointed. She’d hoped that this after-school activity would bring her closer to Reese, but here in the math wing, he wasn’t even acknowledging her presence. What did I expect? she thought. Balloons, confetti and roses?

  Haley felt herself inching backward toward the exit. Reese hadn’t seen her yet. It wasn’t too late to back out…but then something, or rather someone, caught her eye. There was a wave of acknowledgment from the back of the room. The palm in the air belonged to a bookish guy with short brown hair parted on the side and intelligent hazel eyes. He wore an ultraconservative blue button-down shirt tucked into stone-colored khakis, with a dark brown belt and loafers. And yet the effect of this look wasn’t at all dorky. His tie was loosened and hung limp about his neck, and the top two buttons of his collar were undone. Haley didn’t recognize him immediately, so figured he must be a senior. And a cute one, she thought, immediately drawn to him. Grateful he seemed to be summoning her over, Haley walked across the classroom and made a beeline for him.

  “Hi, I’m Haley,” she whispered.

  “Huh? Oh, I’m Alex, Alex Martin,” the boy replied, still staring straight ahead. Haley recognized the name from a flyer she had seen earlier that day advertising tryouts for the debate team, of which Alex was cocaptain with Annie Armstrong.

  “Do we know each other?” Haley asked.

  “You were blocking the chalkboard,” Alex said harshly, without so much as a nod in her direction. “Do you mind? I’m in the middle of an important proof.”

  Haley felt like an idiot. So this one couldn’t care less either, she thought, blushing profusely. Haley took out her graphing paper and began working on some of the minor problems that were written on the board. After a few minutes, she got restless and scanned the room. Of course my only female compatriot in this sea of socially awkward eggheads is Hannah Moss, she thought. Hannah and some of the students sitting nearby were all wearing matching nylon jackets with NUMBERS ONLY printed on the left-front pockets—there to hold pens, pencils and their all-important calculators. Ugh, what am I doing here? Haley thought, exasperated, as Reese continued his deep conversation with Mr. Milosevic and Alex remained intent on his scribbling. Better yet, what’s Reese doing here? He doesn’t exactly fit the Math Olympian profile. I mean, do any of these brainiacs even realize who he is? She looked around, and not a single math club geek seemed to care that the junior class’s most smoking member was in their midst. Maybe that was part of why he liked coming here, she realized. No one worshiped him here—he was just another guy with a tabulation pad.

  And here, Haley Miller wasn’t a prospective girlfriend. She was a teammate who needed to be able to hold her own in competition.

  Okay, focus, Miller. You’re here to study and improve your mind, not get a date for Saturday night. But in spite of this mature frame of mind, a girlishly reassuring and not unmathematical thought suddenly popped into her brain. The guy-to-girl ratio at math club is fifteen to one! That has to work in my favor!

  Consoled just a little, Haley couldn’t help but smile and think that this just might turn out to be fun—even though Reese remained oblivious as he came and took the desk next to her, and Alex didn’t say another word to her throughout the rest of the math club meeting.

  Haley understands the notion of getting lost in your work, but this is ridiculous. Doesn’t Reese realize there’s competition in his midst? Haley seems to be taking a shine to this senior smartie. Is her affection for him greater than, less than or equal to her affection for Reese? When it comes time to submit results, which math wizard will win Haley’s heart? Or will they both continue to ignore her in favor of their work?

  If you think Haley should forgive Reese this momentary lapse in manners, go to "OPEN MIKE". If you want to give Haley more time to think things over—and perhaps change partners—go to "THE BAG LADY".

  Reese had better watch out. He’s not the only head for numbers in this town.

  FOR KICKS

  A captain must be able to rally the troops, on and off the field.

  On her way to soccer practice, Haley spotted Sasha Lewis in the parking lot, tossing her backpack into the grooviest little red Mustang Haley had ever seen.

  “Where’d you get the wheels?” Haley asked.

  Sasha shut the car door and leaned against the hood, grinning in her navy shorts and gold and blue Hillsdale Lady Hawks T-shirt. “Isn’t he gorgeous?” she said. “I call him Stallion. He’s a vintage sixty-nine Mustang. A birthday present from Pascale.”

  Sasha, whose mother, Pascale Lewis, was French and très chic, had recently turned seventeen, which in New Jersey was the legal driving age. Haley could hardly wait until her next birthday, in February. But having friends who could drive was almost as good as being able to drive yourself.

  “Stallion, eh?” Haley said as she checked out the black leather bucket seats. “Sweet.”

  “Boys are always naming their cars after girls,” Sasha said. “But this car feels like a boy to me. And I can drive him wild.”

  “Totally,” Haley said, pulling a flyer off Sasha’s dash. “What’s this?” She glanced quickly at the printed message. “Open tryouts for A Midsummer Night’s Dream. Are you thinking of entering the theater, too?”

  “No way. Are you kidding? I’ve got enough on my plate. But you, on the other hand—I could see Haley Miller busting out some acting chops. You act all shy, but secretly you know you want the spotlight.” Haley blushed.

  On the field, Coach Tygert blew his whistle. “Lewis! Miller! Let’s move it!”

  Sasha and Haley jogged onto the field in their cleats for the first varsity girls’ soccer practice of the year. “Looks like Tygert’s still married,” Sasha said as a flash of sun glinted off the gold ring on the coach’s left hand. “Too bad.”

  “Yeah, she’s a lucky woman,” Haley said, swooning.

  “Okay, girls, welcome to a new season of varsity soccer,” the coach said. “We’ve got a great group this year and in spite of last year’s end-of-season meltdown, I think this team can take it all the way.”

  The girls clapped and cheered. “Woo-hoo!” “All right!” “Go Hawks!”

  “But first things first,” Coach Tygert said. “As you all know, Tanya and Padma graduated last year, so we need a new team captain. Tessa and Jen are our only returning seniors—” He nodded at two girls who had spent more time on the bench last year than on the field. Jen nodded smugly, as if the captaincy were hers by default. Not so fast, Jen, Haley t
hought. Tessa ducked her head as if she hoped no one would notice her—clearly not eager to lead the team to victory.

  “The job is open to anyone you think is qualified,” Coach Tygert finished. “So…nominations?”

  A perky sophomore named Christina raised her hand. “I nominate Sasha. Look, Sash, we were all a little pissed off at you last year when you blew off our final game. But you’ve proven yourself over the summer. I’ve never seen anyone so dedicated to this team. I think you’ve earned our trust back. And come on, we need you. Your skills are wicked good.”

  “Second,” another sophomore shouted triumphantly.

  “I nominate myself,” Jen said forcefully, when no one else called her name.

  “Okay, that’s allowed,” said Coach Tygert. “I like to see confidence in a leader.”

  “Haley Miller,” a junior named Dee chimed in. “She and Sasha are our best players. No offense, Jen,” she added, looking in the annoyed senior’s direction.

  “Any other nominations?” Coach Tygert asked. The girls were quiet. “No? All right, let’s vote. The three nominees are Sasha, Haley and Jen. Nominees, turn around, please, so the voters won’t be intimidated by your scorching glares.”

  The girls laughed as Haley, Sasha and Jen turned around on the bleachers, their backs to the rest of the team. “All right,” Haley heard the coach saying. “Who votes for Jen? Hands? Okay. Sasha?”

  Haley thought she heard more movement this time, more of a rustle, but it was hard to tell.

  “Now, last but not least, hands for Haley.”

  Haley glanced at Sasha, who rolled her eyes and said, “Do you believe this foolishness?”