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music and art.”
    Today’s debate club topic is “All Public Schools Should Provide Students with Music and Arts Education.”
    I argued the premise.
    Last night, Mom heard me practicing and said, “No one better raise my taxes to pay for kids to waste time finger painting.”
    I closed my bedroom door and practiced in a quieter voice, almost a whisper. I knew there was no point telling Mom about the research I’d found to back up my argument, about how arts education helps kids develop creative-thinking, problem-solving, and communications skills. Mom’s more convinced by dollars and cents than common sense.
    “Liam, your rebuttal,” Mr. Phillips says.
    I go up to the podium. Oliver smirks from the front row. He’s convinced he has this debate in the bag.
    “Those who say that music and arts education is unnecessary don’t recognize that the arts are a language spoken by everyone, reaching across cultural, social, economic, and racial barriers,” I say, thinking of my mother. “They help us learn empathy, to understand how someone else feels and to experience his or her emotions as our own. And in an increasingly global and interconnected world, this is essential to achieve both economic and political success.”
    People clap when I’m done. Yes!
    Not only that, as I sit down, I notice I’ve wiped the smirk off Oliver’s face. We may be friends, but we both like to win.
    I guess I got that from Mom. You know how some parents let their kids win when they’re little so they feel good about themselves? Not my mom. Dad would, but Mom was like, “If you want to win, you have to earn it. All this ‘give everyone a trophy’ garbage is ruining this country.”
    When I finally beat her at Monopoly, I took a picture of the board, and then I never played with her again.
    Mr. Phillips calls for the votes. We’re judged on how we argue the point, how we rebut the opponent’s points, how well our arguments are structured, and our presentation skills.
    As he’s tallying up the scores, I remember when Dad came to my first debate. I was arguing for the death penalty. My team won.
    In the car on the way home, he said, “I never knew you were in favor of the death penalty, son.” He glanced over at me. “Have to say, I’m surprised.”
    I stared at him. “What makes you think I’m in favor of the death penalty?”
    “Liam, you just won a debate arguing in support of it,” Dad said. “Not only that, you did such a good job you almost made me think I’m in favor of it.”
    “Dad, that’s just the side I took for the debate,” I explained. “Mr. Phillips told us we had to start off arguing a position we don’t agree with because it’s harder to do.”
    My father shook his head slowly. “Wow … Smart man, Mr. Phillips,” Dad said. “Teaching you to play devil’s advocate.”
    “I’m not sure Mom agrees,” I muttered.
    Dad laughed. “Maybe not. But remember, you inherited your way with words from your mom, not me.”
    I’m hoping my way with words pays off as Mr. Phillips finishes tallying the points on the voting sheets.
    “We have a winner,” he says. “Congratulations, Mr. Connors.”
    I turn and hold out my hand to Oliver. Mr. Phillips is big on us being gracious when we win — and not being sore losers when we don’t.
    “Good debate, Mr. Steiner,” I say.
    Oliver shakes my hand and says, “Nice work, Mr. Connors.”
    Then we both laugh because it still seems so weird to call each other mister, but we’re supposed to at debate club because Mr. Phillips says it’s a way of showing each other respect. But as soon as the announcement crackles over the loudspeaker that the late buses are here, Oliver fake punches my shoulder and says, “Crush you next time, sucker.”
    “Yeah … in your dreams,” I tell him.
    Guess we can only keep up the respect thing for so long. But that’s okay. We’re just messing with each other. It’s way different from the stuff people have been saying to Lara