Plus, there’s the Marvyn of it all. Does she still have feelings for that butt, inhaling his own farts in the back of his town car? Not that I’m biased or anything.

“Right! Well, Yadira makes a very fine point, but what we have to do here, when considering this, uh . . . matter, is look at the social ramifications of such a policy. . . .”

However long I babble next, the remaining seconds of my rebuttal manage to feel extraordinarily long. Once I’m done, Greg is visibly unhappy with my performance, and I can tell from Yadira’s pursed lips that she agrees with him.

“That was . . . hollow,” she finally says, taking it upon herself to speak first. “You spoke for ninety seconds and didn’t say anything, Halti. Sorry.”

Greg is far less diplomatic.

“It was nonsense is what it was!” he exclaims with raised arms. “You sounded like an evil politician trying to sound moderate.”

He’s been even more high-strung than usual today. It makes sense: this weekend marks the semifinals of the New York City debate circuit, and we’re up against St. Celeste. Somewhere along the way, I must have slipped into a time vortex because I swear this round of the competition was still two months away, last time I checked my calendar. With the college stress migraines, it’s admittedly been bumped down my list of priorities.

“There’s a reason all those people are always grabbing babies and kissing them to distract from what they’re actually saying, Henri,” Greg continues, clearly on a roll. “Unfortunately, we don’t get props against St. Celeste this weekend.”

I sigh and lean into the podium, balls already fully busted. “Give me a break here, Greg.”

“I think what Greg is saying, Halti, is that if you’re going to make an emotional appeal, there has to be an earnestness to it, right?” Yadira tries. “You’re usually better about BSing that part, that’s all.”

Greg nods so furiously his neck might break, which I wouldn’t altogether mind right now, to be honest.

“Yes! Thank you. There’s a human component missing, Halti.” He exhales. “That matters a lot more in these final rounds. Right now, you’re coming off like a sleazy comptroller with slicked-back hair and mob connections.”

“Where’s this creativity when you’re on the stage, Greg?” I snap back, because, really. “Because shaking the entire time isn’t projecting. FYI.”

“All right, boys. Put your dicks away; the smell is terrible,” Yadira chimes in.

“I don’t need this today,” I grumble, slipping my blazer back on and collecting my bag. “We’re done for today anyway, right? I’ll see you guys later.”

“You can’t get by on charm alone, dude!” I hear Greg shout as I head out of the classroom and resist the impulse to throw a middle finger behind me.