Novel & Cerita Arguing Games

Tatiana asked. “I think the pencil and paper game is better, we don't play cards.” Arielle replied. “Besides, someone might cheat too.” “Oh, I see. So, under the pencil and paper, there is: Why? Because, dots and boxes, strokes…" Tatiana proceeded in listing varieties of pencil and paper games with the rules accord to each one of them. “I think dots and boxes is very okay…" Arielle uttered. “I'll go get papers and pencils.” "That doesn't sound like it fun, I think ‘‘why because” is much better.” Miguel disagreed with Arielle's choice of game.

Blackwood was telling. Grandma Hale occupied her usual chair, her teacup balanced gracefully in her hand, while observing everyone with the quiet authority that only she possessed. Meanwhile, at the center of the room, complete chaos reigned. Felix, Lisa, and Adrian were in the middle of what appeared to be a heated argument over a card game. Or perhaps a board game. Or perhaps neither. At that point, nobody seemed entirely sure anymore. "You cheated." "I won." "You cheated while winning." "That's called strategy."

Koskov asked bemused with my reactions. I looked at him with a scrunched face mimicking an incoming flash of headache. "I fucking hate it. Anything with brute force, what's the sense? People getting high on hurting one another. It's full of bulls like the game inside the prison." "Says you? The you who wins every death game? But anyway, why? What is your kind of game?" "Strategy," I answered as the red team scored a touchdown. "Like chess?" "Kind of." "This is also a game of strategy, like every game of balls."

“And even if Mommy and I fight, it does not mean that we love you and each other less. Sometimes, arguments are good. We can be open about our feelings, challenge each other’s thoughts before we come up with a solution.” Aaron nodded. The cast of doubt I gleaned from his eyes was no longer there when our gazes met. “So, who won the argument?” Althea butted in. There was a silly grin on her face that made me want to reach out to pinch her cheeks. I shook my head. “No one. We don’t argue to win. We argue to compromise and meet in the middle.” I told them. The children’s shout of joy filled the van’s cabin when Victor announced that we were going inside the fast food chain.

If anything, he seems bored. “I’m certain You’ve all seen the dangers of this competition,” he says, his voice calm, almost casual. “This is not a game for the weak. So I’ll be giving you all one final chance to forfeit this game. If any of you wish to leave, now is your opportunity.” There’s silence. Then, a girl steps forward. Her hands are shaking, her face pale. “I—I want to leave,” she says, her voice barely above a whisper. Another girl follows. Then another. And another.

“Valuable data.” He nodded seriously. “Exactly.” *** By the third frame, we were both invested: not because we were good, but because we refused to stay bad. “That was a strike,” Jaric insisted after knocking down nine pins and watching the last one wobble but remain upright. “That was almost a strike,” I corrected. “It felt like a strike.” “The pins disagree.” “They’re biased.” We argued like that between turns, the kind of low-stakes competition that didn’t need to be meaningful to be important.

I was laughing at how terrible we both were at some of the games. “You’re cheating,” I accused as he beat me at a racing game. “I’m just better,” he replied. “That’s not true," I argued. “It is.” “It’s not.” He smirked. “Rematch?” “You’re on.” And just like that, it turned into a competition. We moved from one game to another, keeping score, arguing over rules, teasing each other like we had done so many times before—but this felt different. Lighter. Freer. At some point, we took a break and sat down with drinks.

He went between us then pushed Calvin a little away from him. “What do you think you're doing?” Tobi asked. Calvin glared his eyes at Tobi. “I should be the one asking you that, what happened to Andrea that made her stay in this hospital bed.” Tobi chuckled. “I don’t know. Maybe because you kept on bothering her that she couldn’t take it anymore, she ended up being stressed.” Calvin was about to rebut but I stopped both of them. “Can you please stop fighting?” I asked. “Can’t you see I’m already having a hard time here and here you are fighting right in front of me.”

My thoughts were filled with Draven, and I could barely hear what Jorah and Imogen were talking and arguing about. We were in Jorah’s apartment playing a game of charades with Imogen and Jorah both arguing nonstop about Imogen’s poor communication skills. “Aren’t I right, Myra?!” Jorah called, pulling me from my reverie as I watched him and Imogen, who stared at me, waiting for my answer. They both saw me as fair and just since it was typically a human game. “Imogen is kind of right?” I said, apologizing to Jorah with a shrug, while Imogen jumped for joy, thrilled that I had taken their side. It was refreshing to see her act out of character.

That night Robin found a stack of old board games in a closet and insisted we play. I haven't played a board game since I was twelve, I said. Good. Then I'll definitely win. We spread out on the floor in front of the fireplace, the game board between us, and proceeded to get increasingly competitive over something that absolutely didn't matter. You're cheating, Robin accused when I moved my piece. I'm following the rules exactly as written. You're bending them. That's called strategy. No that's called being an ass. I grinned. You love it.