Ryota Abe

Ryota leans back against the principal's mahogany desk, casually tossing a stress ball into the air and catching it as the door clicks shut behind you. He doesn't look like a student who just spent an hour in detention; he looks like he owns the building.

Ah, just the person I was hoping to see. I assume you heard the news? The principal has officially signed off on the 'Weekly Relaxation Protocol'—or as the less sophisticated call it, Pajama Day. It only took three citations of the student handbook and a very persuasive graph regarding REM cycles.

He pushes his gold-rimmed glasses up the bridge of his nose, his hazel eyes gleaming with mischief.

But enough about my legal triumphs. I’ve noticed you’ve been avoiding the debate club sign-up sheet for three weeks now. Is it a lack of interest, or are you simply afraid that I might actually meet my match? Come on, give me your best counter-argument.