Ishmael and the Hoops of Steel (28 page)

Scobie was sitting between Razz and me. That was our team for the Final. Bill and Ignatius were sharing timekeeping and chairperson duties with the Wesley reserves. It was great that the whole team got to be on stage together for our last-ever debate. We all looked pretty good too. We were wearing the special St Daniel's school representatives jackets, which were navy blue with red trim. Thanks to Mrs Zorzotto, we also had red carnations in our lapels.

I looked across at the Wesley girls. A single long-stemmed rose was sitting in front of each of them. The girl beside Bill was smelling hers and smiling. Those roses came from us. When we walked on stage a few minutes before, we
introduced ourselves to our counterparts on the opposition team, shook hands, wished them luck and then presented them each with a rose. I don't think it won us any points with the judges but the audience liked it. So did the Wesley girls I think, and as Scobie had kept reminding us in the lead-up to the night, ‘It's our last debate – whatever the result, let's go out in style. Like St Daniel in the lions' den, we'll show them grace under pressure.'

‘Going out in style' and ‘grace under pressure' had become our mantras for the night. That's why we made sure our uniforms were Gerard Carlson-Steele perfect and it was also why our palm cards sat in three untouched, neat little bundles on the desks in front of us, each tied up with a thin blue ribbon. That was Scobie's idea too. He said it would send the message to the opposition that we were confident, totally in control and fully prepared.

At the last debating meeting when Scobie suggested we tie up our palm cards, I almost had a panic attack. I thought I'd be so nervous on the night, I wouldn't be able to stop myself chewing off the ribbon and shuffling through my notes like a hyper-ventilating card shark. But it wasn't like that at all. I'm not saying I was calm, but after I accepted that I wasn't going to be able to look at my notes until the chairperson got up to start the debate, I stopped worrying about them and just let myself feel excited and happy about being there. It all seemed like a bit of a miracle, especially after my first disastrous debate in Year Nine when I passed out on Kelly. For the first time ever, thinking about that made me smile. When I looked around at Razz and Scobie they were smiling too. So were Bill and Ignatius. I guess I wasn't the only one feeling excited and happy.

With minutes to go before we were due to start, the audience continued to build up. Quite a few people were now standing at the back and down the sides. I looked around for familiar faces. As well as quite a few St Daniel's boys from our
other debating teams and their supporters, Mum and Dad and Prue were there along with Prindabel's parents, Mrs Zorzotto, Uncle Georgiou, Mrs Kingsley and Mr Scobie. They were all sitting together. In front of them was a bunch of teachers including Brother Jerome, Mr Barker, Mr Slattery, Mr Guthrie, Ms Heckenvaal and Miss Tarango.

Razz nudged me and grinned knowingly when he saw Mr Guthrie shooting a few glances at Miss Tarango. She was a couple of seats away talking to Brother Jerome. Razz stopped grinning so much when Mr Barker leant over the back of his chair and started chatting with his mum. Judging by the size of the smile on Mrs Zorzotto's face, I'd say
she
didn't mind in the slightest.

They weren't the only familiar faces. Sally and Kelly were there too. They were up at the back of the theatre with Sally's mum. They waved when they saw me looking. I gave them a quick wave back. I attempted to make it as stylish as possible. I even spotted Raychell Taylor, the girl who'd been my partner for the Year Eleven Semi-formal when she wasn't off talking and laughing with other people or texting on her mobile. I was still spotting other faces I knew when the three adjudicators entered the theatre and took their seats.

Razz leant into Scobie and me. ‘Not long now, guys,' he said. ‘Are you ready to rock and roll, Ishmael?'

We were Affirmative. I would be the first to speak. I nodded.

‘And dude, if you're going to throw in one last faint for old time's sake, could you make it
after
you've finished your speech this time, OK?'

‘Sure thing,' I said and we all smiled in a stylish kind of way.

‘Oh, and I almost forgot, man. Young Prudles told me I had to give you this,' he said, reaching into his jacket pocket. ‘She reckoned you might relax more if you knew
exactly
where it was.'

He handed me an old wooden clothes peg with the head of one of the Beatles on it. The old Ringo peg person was in
pretty good shape considering his last embarrassing appearance (via my shorts) was at a debate way back in Year Nine. I think Prue might have given his mop of hair a recent coat of black paint.

I sought my little sister out in the audience. She was watching me and laughing. She was in Year Eleven now – not so little any more, I guess. I was smiling back at her and shaking my head when the chairperson from Wesley stood up and began officially welcoming everyone. Not long after, she was saying my name and calling upon me as first speaker for the Affirmative team to open the debate. My heart was pumping up a storm.

I stood up, undid the ribbon from my palm cards, placed it on the desk and walked to the middle of the stage. When I got there I smiled at the audience, took a deep breath and began.

‘Ladies and gentlemen, madam chair, tonight my team will prove to you …'

I reckon I must have looked pretty stylish standing up there, especially with the head of a Ringo peg person poking out proudly from the top pocket of my special St Daniel's school representative jacket.

I definitely had the easiest job of all the speakers on the night. As First Affirmative I had nothing to rebut from the opposition. I just had to state our theme, outline our overall case and then present the first of our arguments as clearly and persuasively as possible. That, and not turn into a stumbling, bumbling, freak show in front of a theatre packed with people who were intently boring their eyes into me.

It was weird. It was almost like I was someone else, listening to my speech. I kept giving myself advice while I talked –
slow down, take your time, you're doing great, look at the audience, that's it, remember to smile, speak loudly and clearly, pause and let those words sink in, use your gestures, really hit this point hard, not far to go, you're almost there, big finish now, make sure you end strongly
.

When it was all over I sat down with the sound of applause drumming in my head. Razz and Scobie shook my hand and patted my back. I held on to the desk top. I felt so light I was scared I was going to float away. Everyone told me afterwards that I'd done really well. Raychell Taylor came up and said she couldn't believe I was the same person she'd met last year. Maybe they were all just being super-nice, but I knew this much at least. I'd done my job and I'd done my best. I'd take that any day.

But we were soon reminded that the Wesley girls weren't in
the grand final just to make up the numbers. Not for a second. Even though their first speaker looked like a ballerina, she came out swinging like a heavyweight. When she'd finished we weren't exactly reeling on the ropes but she had landed quite a few telling blows and had clearly established her team's claim for the title. Next up was Razz.

After he was introduced, Razz stood and pushed his chair into the desk. As he walked behind me, he pulled Ringo from my top pocket and slid him into his own. I was watching the St Daniel's supporters as he made his way to the centre of the stage. They looked tense and uneasy. Sally and Kelly were both leaning forward with their fingers covering their lips. Prue wasn't watching at all. I couldn't blame them for being nervous. It was a tricky topic, especially for Razz, and he did have a bit of a reputation for being a loose cannon. Not tonight. Tonight the Razzman was a high-tech, sophisticated piece of artillery locked on to a target. But he was still Razz.

‘Ladies and gentlemen, this evening I am faced with a difficult task. I must attempt to convince you that women are the weaker sex while at the same time standing before three members of that very gender who frankly are making
me
weak at the knees.'

None of us knew Razz was going to say that. But it worked. In the first few seconds of his speech he'd made the audience laugh and he'd won them over. And as much as they tried to resist, even the Wesley team weren't totally immune. Their captain rolled her eyes and gave a pained smile. Their first speaker looked down and blushed. Their second speaker stared at Razz for a moment with what I'm fairly certain was the ‘game over' look before she smothered it in a frown. Then Razz continued.

‘But tonight I must put my personal feelings aside, because the first speaker for the Negative team has put forward arguments that, while eloquent, clearly don't stand up to close scrutiny.'

Razz then rebutted each of the opposition's arguments before showing how women often had less power and influence than men in three major areas – society as a whole, the political arena and the workplace. And he did it with oodles of charm and just the right amount of humour thrown in. It was a Razzman masterclass in style. Scobie and I applauded him to his seat. He was wearing a sizeable grin. It got even bigger when Ms Heckenvaal gave him two thumbs up.

Then, of course, Wesley's second speaker came in and threw our arguments back in our faces by saying that women had survived and flourished
despite
the inequalities and discrimination we had rightly pointed out, and that this was proof of their
strength
not their weakness.

That's how it went all night. We'd build something up that looked strong and indestructible and they'd come in and start tunnelling under the foundations and chiselling away at the brickwork and sawing through the support beams. Then they'd build something new and equally impressive in its place and we'd start on our own tunnelling, chiselling, sawing and rebuilding.

The highlight of the debate was definitely the battle of the third speakers. Scobie had saved his best till last. He was like a ball of energy on stage, using everything he had to get us over the line, including a certain peg person poking from his pocket for good measure. After seven and a half minutes of intense work dismantling the opposition's case and restoring ours to pristine condition, Scobie concluded with this:

‘Ladies and gentlemen, madam chair – my colleagues and I have not argued here tonight that the female of the species is in any way inferior to the male of the species. How could we,' Scobie said, holding his hand towards the Wesley girls, ‘with such
overwhelming
evidence to the contrary? And we don't deny the claims from the opposition that women have achieved great and remarkable things both as individuals and as
a gender. But we still hold that they are the
weaker
sex, because as we have clearly demonstrated, in the political system, in the workplace, in the household, and in society at large, the power and influence of women have been, and continue to be, undermined and weakened by years of prejudice, discrimination and lack of opportunity. And ladies and gentlemen, my colleagues and I should know, because shamefully, it is our gender that has been largely responsible.'

As final speaker for the night the Wesley captain was clinical and ruthless. She was the only debater I'd ever seen who'd even come close to matching it with Scobie. When it was all over, Bill and Ignatius joined us and we waited for the adjudicators' decision. Razz was making jokes as usual and we were all waving and smiling at people in the crowd. Another ‘last' was almost at an end. A big one – our last debate together. I thought I might feel sad, but I didn't. I felt great. Not because it was all over, but because we got the chance to do it in the first place. And whether we won or lost nothing was going to take that feeling away.

Just for the record, the chief adjudicator said it was a debating final of the ‘highest order' and that she had never heard two finer third speakers in a school contest. She also said the decision was ‘agonisingly close' and that in this case the old cliché was true and that ‘no one deserved to lose'.

But of course someone did.

I kept my eye on Miss Tarango while the adjudicator was talking. She was chewing on her thumbnail and gripping on to Brother Jerome's arm. When the result was about to be read out, Miss closed her eyes and lowered her head. I saw her take a long, deep breath and hold it as the winning school was announced. I really wish someone could have taken a picture of Miss Tarango right at that moment. They could have stuck it in one of those visual dictionaries – right under the word ‘Joy'.

We were officially congratulated for our debating victory at a school assembly, but there wasn't that much time to bathe in all the glory before our next big challenge loomed large. It was the Inter-house Athletics Carnival – the last of the Big Three. If we didn't do well here, we could kiss Operation Tarango goodbye.

Scobie had the whole of Charlton House revved up for a massive effort. He wanted us all to be ‘point scavengers' and he enlisted Bill, and Gerard Carlson-Steele, who were both Art and Design students, to create a new house T-shirt for the day. They came up with an all gold one that had on the front the outline of a hand with the index finger pointing skyward. Circling the hand were the words
CHARLTON HOUSE – WINNING THE COLLEGE CUP – ONE POINT AT A TIME!

On the back was a silhouette of the cup itself with
CHARLTON HOUSE SCAVENGERS
at the top and
WE FIGHT FOR EVERY POINT!
below it. It was a big hit, and our Art and Design teacher, Ms Lagilla, agreed to print them for a cheap price as long as any profits went to her department.

Bill and Gerard also made a special shirt for Miss Tarango. It was the same design as the others but instead of
CHARLTON HOUSE SCAVENGERS
on the back, it had
CHARLTON HOUSE PATRON
,
and both the drawings of the cup and the hand were decorated with red sequins. Miss Tarango loved it.