Chapter 5 — Two Sides of an Argument

That Friday, Mr. Sơn sent a message to the club's general group, asking all members to be fully present at the following Monday afternoon's activity, along with a short sentence but enough to keep the group chat buzzing all weekend: "I have an important announcement related to my plan to attend the National School Debate Tournament this year."

"What do you think the teacher will say?" Mỹ Duyên asked during recess on Monday morning, her voice full of excitement. "Every year our club has two entries, one male team and one female team or a pair depending on the year. Maybe this year I will announce the team list earlier than usual."

Hạ Vy nodded, although in her heart she also had an indescribable feeling of nervousness. After the last two matches with Việt Bách, she felt she had improved enough to hold out a small hope that maybe, just maybe, she would have a chance to be part of this year's squad, even though she had only joined the club for less than a month.

That afternoon, the club room was more crowded than ever, with almost all twenty official members present, including those who were often absent due to their tight study schedules. Mr. Sơn stood in front of the board, his face more serious than usual, holding a printed piece of paper that he read over and over as if weighing each word.

"First of all, I want to thank you all for your efforts over the past semester," he began, his voice calm but with a seriousness that made the room listen in silence. "But I have some unpleasant news to tell you today."

The teacher stopped, took a breath, then continued. "Due to the significant reduction in the school budget this year, the Training Department only approved funding for our club to send ONE team to participate in the National School Debate Tournament, instead of two teams like in previous years."

The buzz immediately spread throughout the room. Some members whispered to each other, their eyes filled with worry, others turned to look at their close friends with expressions of disbelief. Hạ Vy felt her heart skip a beat and looked at Mỹ Duyên who looked equally surprised.

"I know this is not easy news to accept," Mr. Sơn continued, raising his hand to signal the room to return to order. "The teacher tried to convince the board of directors, even proposed the option of the club raising part of its own funds from parents, but the final decision was still to only have one spot. That means, instead of having many opportunities for many different groups like every year, this year we have to choose the best representative of the whole club."

The whole room was filled with chatter again, this time mixed with curiosity about who would be chosen. Hạ Vy felt the eyes of a few other members pass by her and then stopped at Việt Bách who was sitting quietly in the front row, his expression did not change much from usual, but his hand was clasped tighter on his knee.

"I will organize an internal selection round in the next two weeks," Mr. Sơn continued, "to find the person — or people — worthy of representing the school. I want to emphasize that this will be a fair process, based entirely on the ability shown through the rounds, without any bias."

After Mr. Sơn finished the official announcement and switched to the usual practice session, the atmosphere in the room was still heavier than usual. Hạ Vy sat down in her usual place, her mind still confused with the news she had just heard. She looked at Việt Bách and saw him exchanging something with Hồ Tuấn Kiệt in a whisper. His face had a tension that Hạ Vy now, after the accidental conversation in the hallway last week, partly understood the cause.

"Are you okay?" Mỹ Duyên asked softly, noticing Hạ Vy's pensive look.

"I don't know," Hạ Vy admitted, her voice small. "Just a few weeks ago I thought I would quit this club, now I'm worried about whether I have a chance to be selected or not."

"You definitely have a chance," Mỹ Duyên said, her voice firm. "I've watched your last two matches with Việt Bách. He's only three points ahead of you, compared to the original twelve points. If this keeps up, maybe you'll win in the selection round."

That statement made Hạ Vy both excited and worried. She glanced at Việt Bách again, and this time, their eyes accidentally met across the distance of the room. Unlike the previous times, when his eyes were filled with only indifferent appraisal or cold challenge, this time there was something more complex in them — a recognition that she had become a truly formidable opponent, mixed with a bit of something Hạ Vy didn't dare to name, perhaps a worry that he was also carrying, no different from her.

At practice that day, Mr. Sơn did not organize any practice matches, instead spending time explaining in detail the format of the upcoming selection round—which would include multiple rounds of knockout matches between the strongest members of the club, with a jury consisting of Mr. Sơn and two other teachers in the school, ending with an internal final to choose the representative.

"I believe that this selection round will help each of you become more mature, regardless of the final result," Mr. Sơn said, his eyes scanning the room with sincerity. "But I also want you to remember that the debate club doesn't just exist to find a winner. It exists so that each of you can learn how to reason, how to listen, and how to respect opinions different from your own. No matter who is chosen this year, I hope all of you will continue to accompany the club."

Those words, although comforting, were not enough to dispel the tense atmosphere spreading in the room. Everyone understood, although no one said it outright, that the best candidate for this year's only contest would almost certainly be Việt Bách or Hạ Vy—two people with completely opposite styles, now officially direct competitors for the same goal.

When the practice session ended, Hạ Vy was packing up her things when Việt Bách suddenly passed by and stopped for a moment as if considering whether to say anything or not.

"The selection round will be difficult," he said, his voice not as challenging as before, but more serious. "I heard that this year's judges will judge very harshly, because this is an important decision for the whole club."

"I know," Hạ Vy replied, trying to keep her voice calm even though her heart was still chaotic. "Are you worried?"

Việt Bách was silent for a moment, as if considering whether to be honest or not. "Yes," he finally admitted, making Hạ Vy a bit surprised by that rare frankness. "This is not just a trial match anymore. This is the only competition, and for me, it also involves many other things besides the club."

Hạ Vy immediately thought of his father, of the tense conversation she once overheard in the hallway, of the invisible pressure he always carried that few people realized. "I understand," she said, her voice softening. "But whatever the result, I think we've both improved a lot since a few weeks ago."

"Yes," Việt Bách replied, one corner of his lips curled up slightly. "Good luck, Hạ Vy."

"You too," she replied, and for the first time, the words were spoken not with forcedness or animosity, but with sincere respect for an opponent she had gradually learned to understand better.

On the way home, Hạ Vy felt both excited and worried when thinking about the next two weeks. She knew she would have to practice more, perfect the style of combining stories and evidence that she had just begun to discover, and face the greatest pressure since the day she decided to return to the debate path. But for the first time, when thinking about the possibility of having to face Việt Bách directly in a decisive match, she no longer felt scared or self-conscious as before, but felt a real excitement—a desire to prove that her style, although different, still deserved a place.

That night, when telling the story to her mother during dinner, her mother just smiled and said: "So you are about to have a chance to prove what I said the other day." Hạ Vy didn't answer, just nodded slightly, but in her heart, a new determination was gradually forming, stronger than anything she had ever felt since the fateful finals last year. No matter who that single spot ultimately belonged to, she knew she would no longer be the timid, skeptical girl entering the clubroom for the first time. And somewhere in his mind, the image of Việt Bách standing in the middle of the debate "arena", his eyes sharp but now carrying a bit of complexity that is hard to name, still appears, as a reminder that the upcoming battle will not simply be between two opposing styles, but also between two people who are gradually looking at each other with different eyes.