Read The Tragedy Paper for Free Online Page B

be in trouble,” Duncan said. “Plus, I want to see everyone.”
    “You know what? You’re right,” Tad said, stuffing his phone into the front pocket of his jeans and standing up. “That wouldn’t be very social of us.”
    He put his hand on Duncan’s shoulder and guided him out of the room.
    “Hey, later I’m throwing a poker game here. I’m going topull my bed away from the wall and we can use it as a table. Are you in? And don’t forget I have bourbon.”
    “Yeah, that sounds great,” Duncan said.
    They walked down the stairs and through a round room with stained-glass windows and into the busy dining hall. They both stopped for a second. After a long summer of eating in their own quiet kitchens with their own families, it was a bit of a shock. But then they each took a deep breath and moved into the bustling room. Duncan had a routine last year—first check the entrée being offered, and then, if that wasn’t good, the soups and the salad bar, and, as a last resort, he would make a peanut butter and jelly sandwich. The thing was, the food was pretty good at the Irving School. They made a big deal about using fresh local ingredients, and since they were close to New York City and the Hudson Valley, there was a lot to choose from. One night a week there would be fresh pasta from Arthur Avenue in the Bronx. Another night lamb chops from a farm up the road. The salad was supposed to be grown in the area too. But Tad was right about dinner: it was breakfast, which wasn’t Duncan’s favorite either. Tonight there were pancakes—blueberry or plain—just as Tad had predicted. They were being served with maple syrup; a chalkboard sign nearby said it came from a farm in Poughkeepsie.
    Duncan wandered over to the soup and salad bar, absently looking at the choices, which included tomato bisque and corn chowder, when he saw Daisy across the room. Hewas surprised by the physical reaction he had, completely losing his appetite and feeling an intense need to sit down because his legs threatened to give out from under him. At the same time, he couldn’t take his eyes off her. She was in line for the pancakes, wearing a light purple bulldog T-shirt and a pair of tight gray sweats that showed off the curve of her body. Duncan had never thought of sweats as being elegant before. And the shirt, he remembered it from last year. It was the school T-shirt—a simple bulldog on the front, no words. But every year one color would become popular and everyone would wear it. Last year it was the purple and all the kids had one—boys and girls. He wondered what the color would be this year.
    He started to move toward the pancake line. He could eat pancakes tonight. That wouldn’t be so bad. He could get the plain and eat them with the Poughkeepsie maple syrup. He could talk to Daisy. He had it all worked out in his mind—he’d say hi, and ask how her summer was, and then they could talk about the T-shirts and what color might take off this year. Orange could be a nice change, he would say. He didn’t really care about the color of the T-shirt, but he knew she would. Still, he couldn’t do it. She was with her friends—Violet, Sammie, and Justine. They were all wearing their purple shirts and pajama pants, an Irving tradition for seniors when breakfast was served for dinner. He looked around. Most of the senior girls seemed to have some form or other of pajamas on, but the boysdidn’t. He saw Raymond Twinkle across the room and laughed. He was wearing red plaid flannel pajamas. But the other boys were wearing jeans or khakis.
    “Aren’t you hungry?” Tad asked, coming up behind him. His tray was piled high with all the offerings—pancakes and bacon, soup, salad, the cinnamon buns that were at the dessert station.
    “I thought you hated breakfast for dinner,” Duncan said, pointing to Tad’s tray.
    “A guy’s got to eat,” Tad said. “Why are you just standing around? Pick something!”
    “I’m trying to