Into the Velvet

Forty-Eight Days Until

"Should I take these shoes?"

"Absolutely not."

"Okay—what about these?"

"Throw those straight into the fifth circle of Hell."

"Bianca!"

"Sorry. You said you wanted advice."

I eyed the pair of flats in question. They were shaped like kittens. Maybe she had a point. "What am I even supposed to wear to a debating competition?"

"Something hot," Bianca suggested. "It'll intimidate the opposition and get them all flustered."

Her voice was emanating from the phone propped up against Mr. Cain's copy of The Mysteries of Udolpho. I had been reading the book with a new focus akin to worship — running my fingers along the annotated notes along the margins, smiling and laughing at Henry's clever and often withering remarks as I went along — when Bianca and Amos called.

Her pixilated face observed me from her rectangle as I busily packed an opened suitcase. I picked up an old flannel shirt. She cringed. "That shirt is the opposite of hot, Louise."

I held it up defensively. "It's comfy."

"Bring it with you," Amos interceded. His face hovered in the rectangular shape just beside Bianca's. "It's only a few days."

"We've got the student council covered during your absence," said Bianca. "I've already emailed tomorrow's meeting agenda."

"Have you got your speeches planned and ready?" Amos asked.

I groaned. "It doesn't work that way." The World Debating Championships had crept up on me unexpectedly. I should've been expecting it — it was the biggest interstate debating event in the Midwest region. The 'World' portion of the name was misleading. All the top schools were competing, and last year our team had come third.

I was hoping to turn our luck around.

This school trip was an intense three-day period of road tripping, planning and researching in the lead up to the important event. Six students and two teachers cramped into one bus. Mrs. Tucci's extensive knowledge of US History made her the obvious choice as chaperone — in fact, she very much looked forward to this trip every year. Her accompanying teacher was Mr. Bhadra from the sciences. On the last day, we'd get to go on a field trip of our choice.

Winning this championship was important. It would be a much-needed addition to my college applications, which were rolling in at a faster pace. Admission essays, application forms, SAT prep, open day campus visits — I immersed myself in all of it. It was senior year, and things were getting serious.

"You're going to nail it. We'll be cheering you on from back home," Bianca enthused. "At a far, far distance. With plenty of fluids on hand."

I made a sympathetic face. Bianca looked rather pale and sickly. "You have gastro too, don't you? The one that's making the rounds."

"Yep. It's spreading like wildfire. I think Adam gave it to Rocco, who gave it to Jess, who gave it to me."

"You need to stay home tomorrow," Amos insisted. "I'll run the meeting."

"What? Me staying home? I've been waiting all week to stick my gastro tongue down your throat and let my germs take over the world."

Amos shuddered. "I'd rather you didn't."

"I'd rather you did—"

The loud ding of a text message sounded. Interrupting my response.

Bianca perked up at the sound. "Is that who I think it is?" she asked, already aware of who was texting me, knowing full well that she was the sole mastermind behind the correspondence. She sipped at an electrolyte mixture from a plastic cup, throwing a wink my way.