The Tragedy Paper (25 page)

She smiled, sensing he might be breaking through the shell he had been putting up lately, closed her books, and stood. He took her hand, and they walked back through the long hallway to the stairs leading to the dorms. He didn’t hesitate, so she followed, and at the top of the stairs, he tugged her hand, and she went, without asking if it was okay or if they might get in trouble, to the boys’ hall. They held hands as they walked the long way down to his tiny room—they didn’t see a single person—and then they slipped inside, and he closed the door.

The first thing he did was kiss her. He took her into his arms and kissed her in a way he had wanted to for so long. They had shared great kisses, but other than that one amazing pre-Thanksgiving-break morning, there were always people somewhere around, or the possibility that they would come at any moment and interrupt them. They kissed for a long time, but when she indicated that they should lie down on his rumpled bed, he shook his head gently, nicely.

“I really do want to share something with you,” he said. “Something that has nothing to do with us or our being together. Is that okay?”

“Sure,” she said. He couldn’t tell if she was insulted or not, but he moved to his desk and pressed Play. It was Tim’s voice, but she didn’t know that yet.

As you know, the plan was to leave at eleven-eighteen. That was Patrick’s idea, and at first it seemed completely random, but when I thought about it later, it sort of made sense. When nobody made a move by eleven, anyone paying attention probably thought everyone was settled in for the night. Then the next obvious time to meet or plan an activity would have been on the half hour. So to schedule the departure at eighteen minutes after eleven was pretty smart. At the very least, it is a number I will always remember.

Slowly and quietly, people emerged from their rooms dressed for a sledding expedition in deep snow. Somehow, despite all the bulk and the potentially noisy snow pants, it was silent. People filed out and down the stairs like zombies or robots or something. I followed. On the quad, we made a single line shuffling across the campus, down toward the
science building and then into the woods. Patrick was at the head of the line, and as we went, the ten juniors who had been asked to join us filed into line. If anyone had looked out the window at that moment, it would have been a crazy sight, but there was no indication that anyone did.

I was toward the middle of the line. Vanessa was in line behind Patrick, and I could see her lavender ski coat and pants, a bright purple hat and scarf to match. I recognized her brother’s gloves from our time at the airport.

As we moved into the woods, people started to relax and talk a little. Flashlights were brought out. I looked around—it was beautiful and I remember thinking how lucky I was that my eyes were working so well at that moment. It was much brighter than I expected it to be, but not bright in the way it would have been during the day, requiring me to shield my eyes. It was perfect for me, actually.

I stopped trudging for a minute and realized I was feeling something I very rarely felt—I was happy. I took a deep breath and walked on, following the person in front of me. He was a junior, I knew that, but I didn’t know his name. He was wearing a bright green ski hat, so I kept my eye on that and moved forward.

At the bottom of the hill, the line broke apart and everyone started forming groups and talking. I could see Vanessa ahead talking to Patrick, holding his gloved hand with her own and leaning into him. But I wasn’t going to let that bother me. No way. People brought out Dixie cups and
filled them with what I guessed was scotch or bourbon. I accepted a cup and sniffed it. I slowly took a sip. It was shocking and strong but also warm and crazy-feeling. There was only about an inch in the bottom of my cup, so I chugged it and put the folded cup in the pocket of my jacket.

Patrick came toward me. I felt cozy and untouchable, and I remember wondering why I didn’t drink more often.

“Hey,” Patrick said, beaming. “Thanks for your help.”

“Happy to help,” I said, not quite sounding like myself. At that moment, my vision did a weird thing, and I had to blink to get it back in focus, but I told myself it was the liquor and not my eyes. I had that under control.

“I have a final job for you,” he said, leaning in so nobody would hear. Vanessa was up ahead with her friends. She looked so happy. Her beautiful blond hair was falling over her shoulders. Julia said something to her and she laughed, swatting her on the arm. She covered her mouth and said something else. They all laughed harder.

“The new guy gets the honor of naming the junior officer—says so in the book. I figure I’ve fudged enough of the rules, this one seems easy enough to stick to,” Patrick said, handing me a folded blue handkerchief. It was stiff and small. There was a tiny bulldog on the corner. As usual, I wondered if it was some trick. Why was he bothering to follow the rules now? “You know who she is, right?”

I shook my head. I didn’t know any of the juniors.

“Okay, see that girl over there in the bright pink hat and
gloves, and the white coat?” he asked, talking through an almost-closed mouth. “That’s Janie. You just have to slip the bandanna in her pocket. It’s okay if she sees you. They’re all expecting it, or hoping for it. If she doesn’t notice, it’s always better, though, more of a thrill. And don’t forget, don’t tell anyone. It’s supposed to be secret.”

He nodded urgently at my hand. I was still holding the fabric square out in the open, so I quickly put it in my pocket.

“Okay?” he asked.

“Okay,” I said.

“Good. The first chance you get—just do it,” he said, his eyes wandering back to Vanessa. “Now, let’s have some fun.” He patted me on the back and walked away.

You know what happened next.

I still had no idea who you were—that you were the boy in the green hat walking in front of me into the woods. In fact, I had to ask. Your name was rightfully pulled first. I had read the book, I knew the rules. I’m not sure if you’ve found the key ring yet, in the back of the hidden compartment in the closet. If you have, and I bet you have, then let me just tell you that the skeleton key opens the bookshelf I told you about. It’s worth taking the time; it is fascinating.

Some of the book’s pages were so scribbled and full, I could barely make anything out. But that page was clear: the first name pulled is the junior officer—no question.

It made me realize there was no way Patrick got so lucky. No way. Why didn’t anyone else call him on it? What were
the chances that out of fifty people, the most popular one would be picked? Not so good, really. But I wasn’t going to let the same thing happen. I don’t know why I was so determined. It seemed like everyone was happy with Patrick’s choices so far. But I couldn’t help wondering whose name had been picked first last year. What if it had been that quiet guy who always ate alone at the table next to the one that I now considered mine? He looked interesting and he was good-looking. But he didn’t seem to connect to anyone. Maybe that would have made all the difference for him. These people were in charge of the social order of the school, and it just kept repeating itself. I wasn’t going to be a part of that.

So I asked around. I walked up to Peter and casually asked him to point out all the juniors and tell me their names. He had been standing alone, looking like he couldn’t quite find a way to break into one of the groups, so he was more than happy to talk to me. He pointed everyone out—starting with Janie Cottage and ending with you: Duncan Meade.

I waited. You were standing in a group of about six people, holding a cup in your hand. You looked nice, approachable. That reinforced my decision. I was going to make things right. I was going to give you what you deserved.

Everyone was waiting for the fun to begin. And for a moment, you turned away from the group. I saw you pour out some of the liquid in your cup. I watched it spill into the snow, and then you saw me looking at you. I walked toward
you at that point. My plan was to be perfectly subtle about it and slip it into your pocket, but as I got closer to you, my eyes, which had been feeling so good for days, did a strange thing. It was almost like I felt something pop in my right eye and then my left. I stood still for a minute and it didn’t happen again, so I kept coming toward you. But I didn’t dare wait around for the ideal moment anymore. Instead of slipping the square into your pocket, I slipped it into your hand. You looked shocked, like I had just fired a stun gun at you. I kept walking, hoping nobody would see. Just then my eyes popped again, and I almost went down. I know you noticed, you were looking right at me, but somehow I stayed on my feet, and once again my eyes were okay. You looked down at the handkerchief, hesitated, and pushed it into your pocket. I took that to mean you had accepted it.

Everything was set in motion.

Patrick, of course, was waiting for Janie Cottage to take over. He was watching her. But she was clueless and making no move toward the top of the slope. Meanwhile, slowly, you made your way around the back and climbed. Everyone was getting antsy; it was taking a long time for the sledding to begin. But people were still having fun.

There you were, at the top of the hill, getting on a sled. You seemed unsure, but I was still certain I had made the right decision. That was when Patrick saw you. He looked so angry, even in that first moment of recognition. You screamed, “Let the sledding begin!” You said it loud, but I could hear the
nervousness in your voice; I heard it crack a bit. You were coming down the hill, and we all started running up. I might not have run so fast, but I could feel Patrick behind me, coming to talk to me—to yell at me, probably. Once the bulldog handkerchief was given, it could not be taken back, I knew that. I had read the book.

So I ran. And it was chaos, let me tell you. People were slipping and sliding and laughing and pushing. The pain in my head started so slowly I barely noticed it. It was in front of my eyes, in the usual place, but I was running so fast it didn’t sink in until I stopped at the top of the hill. But I still ignored it.

People were going too fast down the slope. They were jumping on two at a time, sometimes three at a time, not realizing they had to steer until they were already moving, racing down. I grabbed a sled. My eyes were going in and out of focus, but I thought that it was fear, that I was afraid of Patrick. I set my sled at the ready, looking behind me. Vanessa was there, an arm’s length away. I reached back and grabbed her hand. Patrick was already mad—I didn’t even care about making him madder. I pulled Vanessa toward me. She got on the back of my sled and wrapped her arms around me, in front of everyone. I was flying high. I was better than I had ever been. I pushed off. We started slow at first. Then we were going faster and faster. There were people everywhere. Sleds and people. And trees. There were all those beautiful linden trees. The trunks came up toward us and I steered by
them. Once, we were so close that Vanessa yelped. I loved it. When we got to the bottom, I was going to tell her how I felt. I was going to ask if she felt the same way about me. I was going to let her explain why she took me to the lower school. It wasn’t that I was just an albino to her. I could see it now. It was that she thought albinos were special. She had found another albino person, and she wanted to point him out to me. It took a long time, but I could see it all so clearly.

And then I could see nothing at all.

Daisy hadn’t moved from the moment Duncan pressed Play, but now she stood up suddenly. Duncan had been sitting at his desk the whole time. He hadn’t meant to—he had meant to sit closer to her—but it was like Tim’s voice had paralyzed them. Now he also stood and went to her. He wasn’t sure if she was going to run. Maybe she couldn’t take it any more than he could. But she grabbed him and then, without a word, took his hand. Together they sat down on the bed, side by side, looking straight ahead, and braced themselves.

My eyes went out a few seconds before we hit. Totally out—I couldn’t see a thing, no images, no shadows, not even the flashlights. Vanessa’s yelps turned into terrified screams as
she held on to me so tight. I felt the impact. It was hard and unforgiving. And then everything was quiet.

Here is one of the really cruel parts. Even though I was in the front of the sled and I should have taken the brunt of the hit, I didn’t. Obviously, once my eyes went out, I was steering blindly, crazily. So there was no way to avoid those big trees. But at the last minute, the back of the sled swung around and hit one hard. That was what eventually stopped us. After a minute or two went by, when people started moving again after they were frozen in shock, my eyes turned back on. It didn’t last long, but it was long enough to see that Vanessa had hit the tree: she was lying in the snow, and there was blood—a lot of blood.

“Does anyone have a cell phone?” I heard someone shout.

“Get help!” someone else yelled.

“Is she dead?” I heard a terrified voice ask. It was familiar, and it came closer to us. Patrick was leaning over her, starting to touch her.

“No, don’t move her,” you said. It was you, but other than my being so determined to make you the junior officer, to uphold the rule the others wanted to break, you meant nothing to me yet.

Patrick didn’t listen; he slipped one arm under her back. You know, you were there. You grabbed him. You stopped him. And, really, because you were the junior officer, you were now in some club together: He was supposed to listen. He had to listen.

“You could hurt her more,” you said. My eyes were going again. I tried to hold on, but I was so tired. For a minute, I wondered why nobody had come to me, but I quickly realized people were around me. People I didn’t really know. They were asking me questions, but all I could hear was what was going on around Vanessa.