Free The Tragedy Paper by Elizabeth LaBan Page A

their recent trip to northern Michigan. It made him miss his family, especially after listening to Tim’s seemingly endless journey to the Irving School.
    After he downed about half the cup and started to feel a bit of a caffeine buzz, he placed the mug on his desk, pulled a clean shirt out of his suitcase, and changed into it, leaving on the same jeans he had slept in. He knew he would have to unpack and get his room organized—the fact that it was so tiny made it even more important that he find a place for everything—but every time he was about to do it, he was drawn back to the CDs, Tim’s voice, and his story.
    He grabbed the bucket that held his soap and toothbrush and went to get cleaned up. When he walked into the crowded bathroom—bright but a little dingy with white tiles, three sinks, and four stalls, each with a swinging wooden door painted white—he had that same feeling he had when he walked into the cafeteria for the first time, that it was going to be hard to get used to this after being home all summer.
    He waited patiently for his turn at the sink, and as soonas he got it, he realized he had left his towel in his room. He thought about running back, but he would lose his place in line. Instead, he grabbed some toilet paper and tried to dry off a bit, but it was so thin, it just stuck to his face.
    There were two places that connected the boys’ hall to the girls’ hall. One was tucked behind the rooms, just beyond the last doors, and led to a fire exit and outside steps toward the back of the senior dorms. The other allowed everyone to reach the main stairs that led down to the first floor. Duncan’s room was the last one on the hall, so the rear connecting hallway was just past his door. He was about to enter his room when he just happened to look to his right, and there, in the hallway, was Daisy. She shouldn’t have been there. Unlike the hall in the front, where you could run into someone at any time, this one was almost never used, mostly just for fire drills and emergencies. Otherwise, it was strictly off-limits. A sign on the door leading to the outside stairs said not to open it, that an alarm would sound. But Daisy had her hand out the door, as if she was trying to feel the temperature, and there was no alarm going off.
    Duncan couldn’t be sure if Daisy saw him. It was so quiet right there, she must have heard his footsteps or his bucket rattling, but he moved by fast and went into his room, which luckily he had left wide open. He pulled the door shut and was about to grab his notebooks for class when there was another light knock on the door. He thought to look in his mirror quickly and saw he had smudges of toilet paper onhis chin and below his left eye. He furiously used his fingernail to work them off. By now they had dried there, and he made bright red marks where he scraped the paper off with his fingernail. Another knock.
    He pulled open the door. Unbelievably, Daisy was standing there. So many things ran through his mind: that she could get detention or worse; that he wished he had saved some of his sticky bun; that he wished he hadn’t scratched his face, but better that than bits of toilet paper; that she looked beautiful.
    “You shouldn’t be here,” he said.
    “Can I come in?”
    “I don’t know,” he said. He was generally not a rule breaker.
    “You know what, you’re right,” she said. “I shouldn’t have knocked.”
    She turned and started to walk quickly back through the hall to the girls’ side.
    “Daisy!” he called in a loud whisper. What was he thinking? He wanted to talk to her. And now he was making more of a spectacle than if he had simply let her in and closed the door. She didn’t even hesitate: she kept walking and then she was gone. He wanted to curse himself. Why had he done that? What had she wanted? He saw Mr. Simon leave the hall to go to his classroom. Why hadn’t he thought of that a second ago? And why was he so scared of getting in