The Tragedy Paper by Elizabeth LaBan Page B

how the girls figured out which room they had. Over on the boys’ side, the names were still up on most of the doors. Then Daisy’s friend Justine came out of her room. It was the one with the purple door—not the lavender door but a real deep purple. She looked so startled that Duncan thought she was going to scream. She opened her mouth but clamped it shut before she said anything. They stood facing each other.
    “Hey, I’m looking for Daisy,” he finally said, his voice a little too high and squeaky.
    “Yeah, I figured,” she said.
    Duncan had to try hard not to smile. If Justine guessed he was looking for Daisy, then he wasn’t crazy thinking there was some sort of connection between them. Other people must see it too.
    “She’s not here,” Justine said.
    “Is she at lunch? I didn’t see her there.”
    “No,” Justine said. “She’s at the hospital.”
    Duncan took a step back.
    “What?! Is she”—he didn’t know what to say—“sick?”
    “Maybe. Maybe not,” Justine said, turning to go. He never really did like Justine.
    “No, wait,” he said, reaching out and grabbing her wrist. She turned but pulled her wrist out of his grasp. “Please, I need to know.”
    “Why do you need to know?” she asked. “You haven’t talked to her in months.”
    Justine was right. He
hadn’t
talked to Daisy in months, except for their brief exchange this morning when he had practically shut his door in her face.
    They stared at each other for a few more seconds.
    “What’s for lunch?” Justine asked, like they hadn’t just been talking about a friend going to the hospital.
    Duncan remembered his burger and pointed to the wrapped food in his hand.
    “I didn’t touch this,” he said. “Ketchup, mustard, and pickles.”
    “Just the way I like it,” she said. Duncan noticed that her eyes looked a little red, like she’d been crying or something. Her chestnut-colored hair was perfectly brushed into a high ponytail, and she was wearing a madras shirt and faded jeans. She was pretty, but not nearly as pretty as Daisy.
    “Were you offering that to me?” she asked.
    “Oh yeah,” he said, handing it over. “Sorry.”
    “Thanks,” she said, taking the burger and lifting it to her nose to take a sniff. “I’m starving.”
    “Can you at least tell me if Daisy is sick? Or hurt?” Duncan pleaded again.
    Justine didn’t answer. She turned and went back to her purple door. Duncan wondered if the inside was purple too. It was like a different world over here. With her hand on the doorknob, she turned and looked back.
    “I’m going to talk to Daisy later,” she said. “Do you have a message you’d like me to give her?”
    Duncan thought. There were so many things. That he was sorry he’d let so much time go by without really talking to her. That he was sorry he hadn’t helped her this morning when she came to his door and hoped that had nothing to do with the hospital. That he hadn’t felt this way about any other girl ever. That on many summer nights he would lie in bed and wonder what she was doing and if she ever thought about him.
    “Just that I hope she’s okay,” he said. He didn’t wait for Justine to comment; he simply turned and walked to the back of the dorm and to the tiny hall that connected the two sides. He could almost hear her snickering as he turned and disappeared, jogging to his room. As soon as he crossed over to the boys’ side, he worried about running into Mr. Simon. But he made it inside and shut the door, sitting on his bed to catch his breath. It took him a minute to realize that he would have nothing to eat until dinner and he still didn’t know which door was hers. That was when he remembered the hidden compartment Tim had mentioned in his letter.
    Duncan found the letter in his desk drawer and followed the instructions that led him to the hidden space, opening it slowly. He expected it to be empty. He guessed, when he first read that note—it seemed like weeks