Leon Trotsky was looking forward to the first day of school. While he usually enjoyed classes, however, debate club was by far his favorite part of school. He was finally a senior at Dialectics High which meant he would have some more authority in the club…at least in theory.

He wasn't the only senior. Vladimir Lenin, club president, would also be a senior this year. Leon respected him tremendously, at times practically hovering over him, much to Vladimir's dismay. He was a reserved young man but a complete workaholic and charismatic when he needed to be.

Leon didn't mind playing second fiddle to Vlad, but that spot appeared to be filled by his archrival, Joseph Stalin. He scowled at the very thought of him. He was one of those people who had more talent than he had any right to. Handsome, athletic, and quick-witted, Joseph was a highly valuable member of the debate team. Worse still, he was vice president. Leon unfortunately had to work with him as secretary but not without many hours of fighting during council meetings.

Entering his homeroom, Leon spotted a familiar face. "Hey, Malcolm! How was summer?" Malcolm Shabazz looked up from his book and adjusted his glasses, grinning.

"It's been a while! I'm so jet lagged. I just got back from Egypt," he said with a wistful sigh. "Wish I could've stayed longer but you know how it is." Malcolm was also part of the debate team and he had the most incredible speaking voice. Leon was sure his impassioned speeches won them more than a few matches.

Joseph entered the classroom. Leon scowled again. "What's up guys?" he said, clasping his hands on Leon's shoulders. "Are you ready for today's debate club?"

"I might skip this one. I'm ready to fall asleep," Malcolm said.

"Already? That's no way to start your senior year!" laughed Joseph.

Just then, Vlad walked into class and before he could join them, their homeroom teacher, Karl Marx entered the room, briefcase in hand. Mr. Marx was a young, bright eyed teacher who often got involved in student activities. He turned towards the class, smiling.

Everyone dispersed and settled into an available seat as Mr. Marx stood in front of the class. "Welcome back, everyone!" he said cheerfully, clapping his hands together. "I hope you all had a great summer. Before I do roll call, as adviser of the debate club, I'm want to remind everyone that we're meeting in room 420 today for our first meeting. I know you're all seniors but it's never too late to join!"

Vlad groaned. "Ugh, room 420 is all the way on the fourth floor. It always smells so dank and musty in there," he said, rubbing his nose as if the very memory of the smell was attacking his sinuses.

"Sorry Vlad, it's the only room I could get. Anyway, let's get started on role call, shall we?"

-w-

After class, the debate team met in room 420. It was a big classroom but it perpetually smelled dank and moldy. When it rained, they usually had to put buckets under the leaks in the ceiling. The administration wasn't too keen on Mr. Marx, especially vice principal Adam Smith. Even though he was several years away from tenure, Marx often went to board meetings to demand things like newer books and instruments for the marching band.

Leon, Vlad, and Joseph set up the room in preparation for the meeting. "We really need to hold elections some time this month," said Vlad. "Emma graduated so we really need another treasurer."

"Didn't you have the hots for her, Trots?" said Joseph, grinning. Leon turned so he couldn't see his face go red.

"Don't tease him," sighed Vlad. He could already see this turning into another fight. He liked both of them but Vlad had to constantly intervene to make sure Joseph and Leon didn't rip each other into pieces.

Leon shrugged and continue arranging chairs. "She was okay. Good treasurer but her politics were weird," he muttered. Hopefully that was enough to satisfy Joseph.

"I definitely remember you asking her out," said Joseph. "And you were all sad and whatever when she ended up taking that Bakunin weirdo to her senior prom. They were so cute with the red and black dress and tie thing going on. Total goths." He laughed. "I'm surprised they didn't go in combat boots or something!"

"Yeah well, not everyone is a meathead like you," replied Leon. Emma Goldman wasn't even here anymore and he still felt he had to defend her somehow, especially because she wasn't fond of Joseph at all. "Not everyone's some freaking track star or whatever you do."

Vlad sighed loudly. "Are we done here? Can we start the meeting? Are you two going to keep this up until graduation?" he said, frowning. Vlad was only 18 but he looked like he was in his twenties. That's why he always bought the alcohol for parties. No one questioned such a serious looking young man, not even older adults.

Both Leon and Joseph glanced at each other quickly before falling silent. They continued to set up the desks and chairs until people began to arrive.

Shortly after the desks were set up, Malcolm showed up with Fidel Castro and Angela Davis. They were juniors now, but neither of them were afraid to stand up to their older classmen when needed. Angela and Fidel were animatedly chattering in Spanish while Malcolm looked on. "I literally can't understand a word you guys are saying so can we keep it in English for us, what do you call them, gringos?"

"Maybe you should've stuck with Spanish instead of dropping out after two years," said Angela, raising an eyebrow. "Speaking of Spanish, where's Che?"

"He's doing some internship with the sports medicine nurse or whatever," said Fidel. "He'll only be able to come like. Once a week. He's really taking this doctor thing seriously."

Angela shook her head. "Yeah well, he's much better at debating. Bet you wouldn't mind getting checked out by DOCTOR Che Guevara," she giggled. Malcolm and Fidel both looked away, embarrassed. "You guys are mad cute! Wonder who's gonna get to take him to prom?"

Before either of them could respond, Rosa Luxemburg and Huey P. Newton ran into the room, giggling like children. "Dude, you HAVE to see this," said Huey, hardly able to speak from laughing so hard. "The fuckin' anime club, man, you gotta see them. That weird Milton kid showed up with a goddamn BODY PILLOW."

"YEAH and now they're fighting over whose waifu or whatever is the best," laughed Rosa. "It's the most pathetic shit I've seen, oh my god."

"Shhhh! I wanna hear what they're saying!" said Joseph in a hushed voice. They muffled their giggles enough to hear distant yelling.

The yelling stopped suddenly. Suddenly, a voice boomed, "YOUR WAIFU IS SHIT! SHIT I tell you!" Angry footsteps echoed towards the debate club room. It was Ayn Rand, her face contorted in anger. She stormed past the door then stopped and returned to glare at the debate team.

"What the FUCK are you liberals looking at?" she snarled.

They stood in stunned silence for a moment. Finally Joseph, who loved provoking the anime nerds, spoke up, "You seem a little mad, Ayn. Maybe you should go get a drink at the fountainhead or something. Cool off. Read some mangoes or something."

"Argh! You FOOL! You fucking CASUAL! It's called MANGA!" she screamed, storming off even angrier than before. She ran past an extremely confused but amused Mao Zedong, who was just arriving to the meeting.

The entire room exploded into laughter for a good minute. None of them liked the anime club very much—in fact everyone was sort of wary of them. They were all…strange. Unfortunately, the debate club and the anime club met at the same time and days during the week, so both groups often ran into each other's classrooms to complain about yelling too loud.

Mr. Marx stepped into the room with an eyebrow raised. "Is something funny?" he asked, curious.

Even Vlad was having a hard time keeping his composure. "It's nothing, really," he said, trying to keep a straight face. The laughter eventually died down and the club members settled into their seats.

"Well. I missed something really interesting," he said, shrugging. "Anyway, I prepared a topic for us to debate today. Let's get started."

-x-

After the debate club, Leon said goodbye to his friends and headed home.

"Yo! Need a ride?"

It was Joseph, car keys in hand. "I parked kind of far but you live like, halfway across town, right? I can give you a ride!"

Leon raised an eyebrow. "Don't you hate me?" he said, suspicious. "Like. You've never been this friendly before."

"Eh? I don't hate you," said Joseph. "I mess with you because you're fucking hilarious to talk to. You're a funny guy."

"But what's up with the stupid jokes?"

Joseph shrugged. "Look dude, I don't mess with people I hate. If I hated you, I'd let you walk the however many miles it takes you to get back home. Plus, I kind of have to like you," he added. "You're everywhere I go, and we have the same circle of friends. If you can't beat them up, join them right?"

Leon smiled despite himself. "I could take you in a fight," he said.

"Bullshit. You're a pencil-necked nerd. You can't even get up a flight of stairs without crying." Joseph laughed and Leon gave him a light shove.

They arrived at his car, which was a tiny red beat up little thing. "It's my uncle's old car," he said sheepishly. "I had to mow like a thousand lawns to buy it from him."

Joseph turned on the radio and drummed on his steering wheel to the beat of the song. "Is...Is this classical music?" asked Leon incredulously.

"Well duh. I don't really know composers or anything. I just like it." He narrowed his eyes and glared at him suspiciously. "Why? Is there something wrong with that?" Then, seeing Leon recoil, he burst out laughing again. "Dude, chill. I'm not gonna beat you up. At least not today."

Joseph dropped him off in front of his house. "Hey, so since you're the only one who lives this way, I figured I can pick you up in the morning if you wanna chip in for gas or something."

"You just want me to pay for your gas money!"

"Oh shut the hell up. I could use the company too," said Joseph. For an instant, Leon swore he looked softer-more vulnerable, even-in the autumn sunset.

He nodded. "Yeah. See you at eight then?"

"Yeah, don't make me late. Oh shit, this is good song!" With that, Joseph drove off, blasting classical music from his cheap speakers.

Despite being classmates since almost kindergarten, Leon realized he knew barely anything about Joseph.

Maybe I should give him another chance.