"The only difference is what I'm thinking. But the whole point is this: It doesn't matter that they're different because it doesn't matter what I'm thinking. They're both protected. Unless you're saying we don't have freedom of thought in America?"

"No, you..." He stops. "Of course not. You can think whatever you want. But burning a flag isn't speech. Speech is when you talk."

"Then that means that pictures and photographs and websites aren't protected. None of them are speech."

"That's different."

"How? And who decides what's different?"

"The government," Riordon says triumphantly, because it's a question he can answer.

"But it can't be the government!" I tell him. "Congress can't decide these things-it's right there in the First Amendment. Have you even read it?" And I realize something-I've been talking to John this whole time. I shouldn't be. I don't care about him. I should be talking to the audience. So I tear my eyes away from John and force myself to look out at the scary, scary depths of students sitting out there in the auditorium.

"I spent a lot of time reading the First Amendment to prepare for this. And you know what? I didn't find the word 'unless' in there anywhere. Here's what the First Amendment says." And I have to look down at my notes, and then I don't because I realize I've memorized it.

"'Congress shall make no law respecting an establishment of religion, or prohibiting the free exercise thereof; or abridging the freedom of speech, or of the press; or the right of the people peaceably to a.s.semble, and to pet.i.tion the Government for a redress of grievances.'

"Again, there are no exceptions in there. It doesn't say 'unless it makes someone angry.' Or 'unless it's hurtful.' Or 'unless someone doesn't like it.' Or 'unless it's burning a flag.' It says Congress shall make no law. Now, I admit I'm not the smartest kid in this school. Heck, would I be up here otherwise?"

That gets me a little laughter from the crowd.

"But even I know that 'no law' means, well, no law. Right? There's not a whole lot of elbow room in the First Amendment. In fact, it doesn't look like there's any elbow room, as best I can tell."

"If Congress-"

"Wait!" the Doc jumps in. "We're getting a little freewheeling here. Everyone take a breath. John, I'm going to let you ask a question. Let's try to stay on target, OK?"

Whatever, dude.

John nods and takes the mandated breath, but he's clearly eager to jump me. "OK, John, go ahead."

"If Congress can't make those laws, then how do you explain the laws against desecrating the flag?" Riordon asks, and then nods smugly. "The government circ.u.mvents the Const.i.tution and the law when it serves its own purposes. It happens all the time."

Wow, I can't believe he just said that! As soon as Dr. Goethe gives me the OK to answer, I go for the throat: "Dude, laws can be wrong. And when the government circ.u.mvents the Const.i.tution, that's wrong, too. That's why we have courts. The government is supposed to be under the Const.i.tution, not above it. The Const.i.tution created the government, not the other way around.

"Besides, I read about those flag laws, too. But I actually bothered to look into them. What-did you just go to Wikipedia and stop there?"

I want to go on, but the Doc stops me. "That's your question, Kevin."

This is a little more complicated then I thought. I need to focus so that I can ask my one, important question.

"Those laws exist," John insists. "I read about them." He fumbles for a second, then goes all clicky again, cycling back through his presentation until he shows his s.e.xy little bullet-pointed list of laws and stuff. "It's right there, in print. How can you deny cold hard facts, Kevin?"

Oh, good-he asked a question. My turn.

"I know they exist, but do you know what they're for? They say things like 'the flag can't be used for advertising purposes.' So I guess we should go arrest the mayor, because he's got flags all over his car lot."

"That's not what they meant!" he says.

"Hey, it's my turn right now. And sure it is." I have to cheat here and look at my notes because I couldn't memorize the line: "Justice John Marshall Harlan said that these laws are needed because advertising tends to 'degrade and cheapen [the flag] in the estimation of the people.' So maybe you should stop worrying about the flag burners and start worrying about the car salespeople and the people who use flags on TV to sell stuff on Memorial Day and Flag Day and Veterans Day and July Fourth. Maybe you should even worry about the sports teams that sew flag patches on their uniforms and get them dirty. That's desecrating the flag right there."

And I stop and realize I'm looking at John again, so I turn back to the audience instead. Nothing happens for a little while. I look back at John. He's like a dog on a leash who could get to the cat if he had just another inch of slack. The Doc watches me. Finally, he says, "Your question, Kevin?"

Oh. Right. c.r.a.p. I made an awesome point and now my mind's totally blank. I have my one question, but it doesn't really fit in with what I just talked about. I suck.

The Doc gets tired of waiting for me. "John? Your response to Kevin's comment?"

Riordon grits his teeth. "I did my research, too, Kevin." More clicky-click. He's getting agitated looking for the right screen. "There. See?" He reads off the screen. "Justice Hugo Black said, 'It pa.s.ses my belief that anything in the Federal Const.i.tution bars ... making the deliberate burning of the American flag an offense.'"

"Yeah, but-"

"I listened to you," John says. "Now you listen to me. Justice Black said that. Even Thomas Jefferson and James Madison were against flag burning." Clicky, and their quotes appear on the screen. "And Norman Schwartzkopf said, 'I regard the legal protection of our flag as an absolute necessity and a matter of critical importance to our nation.' So maybe until you serve in the army, you should just keep your opinions about this stuff to yourself. What do you think of that?"

Wow. Did he really say that? The whole crowd oohs like I've been burned, but I'm totally ready for this one. "You know something? There's nothing in the First Amendment or in the whole Const.i.tution that says that you only have your rights if you've served in the military. But if you really think that way, then I guess the president should just shut up from now on, because he never went to war. And you know what? It's one thing to be against flag burning. It's another thing to make it illegal and to punish people for doing it. I'm against people saying racist things, but I'm not going to throw them in jail for it. Are you?"

"That's not ... G.o.dd.a.m.n, that's not what I said!"

The Doc steps in as the crowd takes a collective deep breath. Awesome! I really rattled that pain in the a.s.s. I scan the audience quickly, looking for Leah. She's not reacting at all. d.a.m.n.

"Let's move on, guys," the Doc says.

"No!" John's really hot now. He's all fl.u.s.tered. He realizes he just lost his cool, but he can't help it. "He's making it sound like I don't support free speech."

"That's because you don't," I say. John's getting red in the face and I can't help it-I just want to laugh at him. I bite my lip to stop myself.

"You're lying!"

"I don't know what else to call it."

Dr. Goethe keeps trying to jump in, but we just keep going. We're like gladiators. Except we're yelling at each other and not hacking away with swords. But otherwise, just like gladiators.

"Why don't you support the troops?" John yells, and I yell right back at him that I do, I do support them. I just don't have to announce it to the world on my car, for G.o.d's sake, and then he's all over me about the Pledge and I'm right back at him and then- "That's enough!" the Doc thunders. He glares at me as he walks past my podium, then gives John the same look as he takes up a spot between us on the stage. The auditorium has gone dead silent except for the echo from the Doc's bellow.

"One final question," the Doc says. He looks down at a notepad he's been carrying the whole time. "Before things got out of hand, it would have been ... Kevin's turn. Kevin, you can ask John the final question."

Oh, you're kidding me. This is just too perfect.

I take a deep breath. It's a risky question because John could have the World's Most Awesome Answer, but I have to take the chance.

"My question is this: John, what have you-you, personally- done to support the troops?"

It takes a second for everyone to realize what I've just asked. The auditorium doesn't fall silent all at once-it happens in a few seconds, as people figure out the question and what it means and turn to look at John.

Even Dr. Goethe looks a little surprised.

John opens his mouth to speak. He suddenly looks really, really silly with his PowerPoint presentation all blown up behind him. He half turns to look at it, but the answer isn't there.

Not this time.

"Well," he says at last into the scary silence of more than a thousand people.

"Well..." he says again, after a second.

"I have..." he says. And stops. Maybe he was going to say I have ribbons on my car or something like that. Something that he realized was really, really lame.

He just stands there. In the silence. I stand there with him, but I'm enjoying it a lot more than he is.

And finally he turns to me, his face twisted into anger and outrage, and says, "What have you done, Kevin? What have you-"

"No!" says the Doc, stepping between our podiums, holding his arms out like we're two boxers trying to hit each other after the bell. "That was the last question. That's it. This has been a very ... spirited debate," he goes on. I think he's regretting this whole thing, which for some reason makes me totally, completely, obscenely happy. "I think everybody has learned some very interesting tidbits on both sides. But things are getting a little heated and time is short, so we're going to move on."

John protests, but the Doc cuts him off. Me? I look down to see that my hands have sweated so much that my notes are covered in it. But I'm still standing upright. I got under Riordon's skin. That's the biggie for me. I made him realize he can't just punt me around like a football.

And I know I'm right, too. That's the big victory. Even if no one else out there knows...

I know.

"Both gentlemen have prepared some closing remarks." He gives each of us very significant looks. I wonder why for a second, but then I look out at the crowd again.

Man. There's a vibe. People are worked up. You can feel it, even from the stage.

Wow. I helped make that happen.

"John, you'll close first."

And the Doc steps back to let John talk.

John shakes his head like he's waking up. I'm close enough to him that I can see he's gripping the edge of the podium like he's strangling it. Probably thinking of my throat.

He clicks a few times and then there's a shot of a guy in an army uniform. I guess it's his dad. He takes a second and then-somehow-manages to start talking very calmly.

"I'm glad that I had this opportunity. Like I said in my opening, I'm sort of surprised that it had to come to this. I think these arguments are fine, but I also think they're old. Old and done with. We have freedom of speech in this country, but like I said the other day-we also have the freedom to recognize when we're not accomplishing anything and just shut up.

"I want to talk about my dad a little bit. Because he's where I learned all of this. He joined the army right out of high school. He served at a listening post in Alaska for six months at a time, during the winter, when it was dark twenty-three hours a day. It wasn't fun, but it was necessary. He didn't like being away from my mom or his parents or my uncle and aunt, but his country needed him and he answered the call.

"See, that's what this all comes down to, in the end. His country. Your country. My country. Our country. It's about loving our country. That's the very definition of patriotism. Love of country. And if we love our country, then why would we ever want to cause it harm? Why would we ever want to hurt it or insult it or not support it? In a time of war, why would we want to disrespect and not support our troops?

"That's what my dad taught me. He taught me by example. After he got out of the army, he went to college and got married and had me. But he still had that thirst, that love for America. So he joined the reserve. And like I said last week-he's lost some friends along the way. I guess it would be easy for him to be cynical. To be angry. To be so angry that he would do something stupid, like burn a flag.

"But he's not. Because he's a patriot. He's a true American. He loves his country.

"Shouldn't we all do the same?"

He pauses here for a moment. Just a moment. And then: "The last thing I want to say to you today is this: These debates are great. They're part of a tradition of American free speech. But we're done, and that's fine. We're finished. Both sides have-Well, in a minute or two, after Kevin speaks, both sides will have had their say. So let it rest there, South Brook. Thank you."

There's wild applause for John Riordon, All-State Stud and Suppressor of Free Speech.

The Doc thanks John. Says it's my turn.

The world swims in my vision. I feel faint. I can't remember what I was going to say.

I look down at my notes.

"Uh, Kevin?" The Doc clears his throat. "It'syour turn."

Riordon. He just had to talk about his father again, didn't he?

SELF-ACCEPTANCE #1.

"John's talking about the Pledge and ribbons and flag burning. I'm not. I'm talking about the big picture. About liberty and free speech. And you know what? Compared to those things, who cares about a pledge or a ribbon or a flag? They're nice symbols, but they're just things.

"I'll take a second to answer that last question of yours, John. I do support the troops.

"But not with ribbons. A ribbon is meaningless. The ribbons are for us, not for them. Support is action. It's too easy to put a ribbon on a car and then forget about it. You know, I said the other day that during World War II, people made sacrifices to support the war effort. These days, we're not asked to sacrifice anything. They just tell us to shut up instead.

"Supporting the troops isn't just a slogan. Jeez. It's doing things. Sending care packages. Donating money and blood. Maybe instead of all those American flag pins people wear, they should wear pins with two numbers instead: the amount of money they've donated and the number of pints of blood they've given.

"So here's what I'll do, what I've done: I'm giving what's left of my reward money to a veterans' group, so maybe the guys coming home can have some decent health care for a change.

"Which brings me to ... I'm glad John talked about his dad. Because I'd like to talk about mine.

"If you read the Loco last week, you might have seen my dad mentioned in the paper. The story said he was a traitor to his country. That wasn't true.

"Like John's dad, mine joined the army right out of high school. But that's where the similarity ends. Because John's dad went to Alaska and mine was shipped out overseas, serving in a front-line infantry combat unit.

"While he was over there, my dad got some medals. I bet John's dad got some, too. The army gives out a lot of medals. But two of my dad's were special. One was the Purple Heart. You only get that if you're wounded or killed in action. A lot of guys get them because a lot of people get hurt. My dad was. .h.i.t by shrapnel from a roadside bomb. He was pretty messed up. To this day, he's not ... he's not totally better. No one at any of the VA hospitals can figure out what's...

"Funny thing, though. While my dad was recuperating in the hospital, some cook dropped the wrong spatula or something. Started a fire. The whole kitchen went up in flames. My dad was in the mess hall at the time, and even though he was still recovering, he ran into the fire twice to pull soldiers out.

"For that, they gave him something called the Soldier's Medal of Valor. Not a lot of people get that one. It was a big deal. They called him a hero. They wrote him up in Stars & Stripes.

"I didn't know any of this. Unlike John's dad, mine doesn't talk about the army all that much. I had to find out why from my mom.

"See, it turns out that some guys in my dad's unit were killed in what's called 'friendly fire.' Which means that other Americans did it by accident. Only the army was pretending it didn't happen that way. They were telling everyone that it was enemy fire. And my dad knew that that wasn't right, that the families of those dead soldiers deserved to know the truth. So he went through channels and he tried to get the army to tell the truth, but they just kept telling him to b.u.t.t out and do his job like a good soldier.

"So my dad got fed up and he went to a reporter who was embedded with a nearby unit and he told him the truth. And the army said my dad had given away military secrets, like where the deaths happened and things like that. Things that they claimed could help the enemy. So they kicked him out of the army."

I stop for a second. My throat is raw. I thought I would feel bad saying all of this, like I betrayed Dad or something, but instead ... instead I feel good.

"So my dad didn't teach me the same lessons that John's dad did. My dad never talked about any of this, so I had to learn from him by watching and just trying to figure it out on my own. Just like he had to figure it out on his own, out there in the desert.