Chapter 56: San Antonio Road

Friday, February 19, 1982

San Antonio isn’t that far away; just over three hours will do it, if you push it. With our continued success, Meg had convinced parents to spring for another nice bus for both MacArthur and for State.

We had the whole gang for this one. Twenty-three of us — everyone but Cindy, who was a lost cause at this point. Nine guys, fourteen girls.

The guys had elected to room three/three/three, with random luck on who got the bed to themselves. I had Gene and Amit for roommates. The girls had a crazy scheme — four/four/three/three but randomizing the rooms both nights. Meg thought it was crazy but not bad, so, if it worked, they might repeat it at State.

Besides that, we had the same crew from Drama that went to New Orleans. That meant Jasmine was in my lap most of the drive. Lexi and Sheila came by for hugs and kisses — those drew some whistles — but that was it. Sheila said she was okay, just thinking things through, and that she’d talk to me soon.

We hit the road about 11am with a plan for one stop — fast food around noon — and then on to MacArthur. It worked out just fine and by 3pm Meg had checked us into our motel and we’d stashed our luggage in our rooms. We changed into tournament-wear and by 4pm we were checked in and waiting in the MacArthur cafeteria.

MacArthur wasn’t quite the big deal that Isidore Newman was — no presentations from summer programs, smaller national turnout — but it was another Tournament of Champions qualifier, which made it still a big deal. They’d pulled a few teams from California, a couple from Massachusetts, and one from Pennsylvania, plus Oklahoma, Arkansas, and Louisiana. No Illinois; of course, I checked that. The elusive Laura would remain elusive a while longer. Or forever.

I was getting spoiled by this point; this was the fourth tournament in a row (counting ours — yes, I have an ego) run by very competent people doing a good job. First round started at 4:30pm, dinner at 6:30, second at 7:15, and we were on the bus to our motel by 9:30. As with both ours and Bellaire, some teams weren’t expecting that level of efficiency and wound up sitting around waiting.

Lamar might be a partial mess, but State would be well-run. Five of six tournaments in the spring run almost on time? Spoiled, very spoiled.

I wound up sharing a bed with Amit, which was fine by me. We were asleep by 10:30. That was another big difference from previous trips. I had vivid memories of staying up until one or two in the morning chatting and playing games and such. Not now; now we all focused on competing. We’d have fun, but we wouldn’t sacrifice that much sleep for it, not when many of us expected to break tomorrow.

Saturday, February 20, 1982

Morning brought a 6:30am alarm and 7:15am rendezvous at the bus. We overwhelmed an IHOP; they seemed amazed at over thirty teenagers in professional attire who were chatting away several miles a minute.

I wound up in a booth with Jasmine, Lexi, and Sheila. Cammie laughed as she went past. “Enjoy your harem, Sultan Steve!” Lexi and Sheila blew raspberries at her.

Sheila got to the subject after a bit. “Okay, Steve, I did what you suggested; talked to both Jasmine and Angie, plus Lexi. That means they’re in the know and you can’t get in trouble sharing things with them.”

“And?”

“And you’re right, of course. Talking helped. I don’t think any of them realized how much I’d been ... hurt.” Jasmine and Lexi shook their heads. “But, see, I’m not sure I did either. I figured they were jerks, which, yeah, they were. But I subconsciously decided they had a point. I must have something wrong with me if three guys in a row not only wouldn’t come back for seconds but were mean about it, right? Yeah, no. The girls helped, but you helped first. I mean, you and I will be a one-time thing, or at most two or three. Without talking about it first, it’d be another kick in the ass no matter how much you weren’t meaning that. Now? Now it’ll be good.”

I nodded. “That would’ve hurt me too, being like that to you, even unintentionally.”

Jasmine shook her head. “I didn’t know you felt that way, Honey. I’m glad this came out in the open. You’re gorgeous and sexy; you should feel that.”

Lexi nodded. “Seriously, you should. Steffie didn’t make you understudy for Fiona for nothing!”

“Can we make a date for next weekend? I cleared it with Jasmine.”

Jasmine grinned. “As long as I get a day, Sheila can have the other.”

“Which is better for you, Honey?”

“Let’s go with Friday.”

“Then Saturday it is, Sheila.”

“I want to get together too, Steve,” Lexi said. “Like Sheila, I think we have a shorter run than I first thought, but that’s okay.”

“I’ll figure something out, Lexi. It’s not like I don’t like the idea. You know better!”

“Yes, I do!”

We were off and competing at 9am and done by 1pm. For lunch, they’d arranged Mexican food, which made everyone a bit paranoid of their outfits.

Postings came out at 2pm; Cammie came right back with the details. “Okay, y’all! Listen up! In Extemp, we have me, Steve, Angie, Gene, Amit, Sue, and Bree.

“In LD, we have Kenzie, Callie, and Brad.

“And, in CX, we have Steve and me, Angie and Gene, Anne and Megan, and Janet and Lizzie.

“Pretty much I’d say it feels a little tougher than we’ve been used to, but Isidore Newman got a bunch of us to up our game. Let’s kick butt in quarters!”

Everyone cheered, then we got our stuff together. I was glad for Angie after failing to break at Isidore Newman.

Quarters Extemp was ... fine. I didn’t feel too inspired, but I didn’t feel like it was rough either. We’d see how it turned out soon enough.

Quarters CX was more interesting. We had an encounter that was predictable but yet amusing. Our opponents were a guy and girl from a school in Dallas that I couldn’t place. “Hey, I remember y’all,” the guy said. “I’m Frank, that’s Sue. Nice to meet you.” We shook hands. “What is with it with y’all this year, anyway? It’s like your school is sucking up all the oxygen. Seriously, half the teams in quarters are from one school? And you’ve done that over and over! Something in the water over there?”

Cammie and I both smiled. “Nah, we just all work hard and also work well together. It’s a team thing. We’re really supportive and we practice hard,” I said.

“It’s cool but it’s also intimidating! I watched you guys against ... that girl in pink...” “Janet.” “Yeah, her. That was amazing. I mean, obviously you know each other’s strengths and weaknesses, but that was ... well, it gave us something to shoot for.”

I shrugged. “I put on my pants one leg at a time like everyone else. We’re having a great year, and I hope we will again next year, since we don’t have many seniors, but it’s unpredictable.”

“You two are juniors?”

I shook my head. “Sophomores. So are my sister and Gene. Janet and Lizzie are juniors; Anne and Megan are freshmen. We have three other CX teams, sophomores, juniors, and seniors.”

“Seven! Damn! That’s ... we’ve never had more than four I don’t think.”

“A bit of luck, a bit of good timing in who signed up, I hope. As long as we can keep everyone together it’ll be great. If we lose people to other activities or chasing grade points, we’ll get hurt.”

“Chasing grade points?”

“Yeah,” Cammie jumped in. “At our school some classes — second-year science, third-year foreign language, AP, that sort of thing — get you an extra grade point, pushing your average up a little if you get an ‘A’. Some people jump into those to get the little boost. Debate doesn’t get that. My parents were pushing on me to go that way, but I said no; being competitive in an academic extracurricular will do more for me than a tiny grade point boost.”