The Hayloft. A 1950s Mystery

longer busy. It was time for me to go to my homeroom in the cafeteria. Only I didn’t want to leave just yet. To make conversation, I said, “Does Sylvia have a boyfriend?”
    “She’s going with a guy who graduated in June.”
    “So he’s in college now?”
    “He enlisted in the Army. He wants to go to Korea.”
    “Oh.” Korea. That conjured up ghastly images. People were dying there. Or at least they had been. I changed the subject. “Did you know this fellow, Ralph, who fell from the balcony?”
    She looked at me, a startled expression on her face. “You heard about that, eh?”
    “Yes. Umm…Sylvia told me.”
    “Everybody knew him. Ralph was a great guy.” Natalie choked up a little. “It shouldn’t have happened.”
    “Do you know how it happened?”
    “He was alone. Probably clowning around. That’s how boys are.”
    Dr. Graves had said much the same thing. It irritated me that everybody assumed Ralph was responsible for his own death. “Do you really believe that nobody was with him?”
    “That’s what everybody said.” Natalie looked at me. “Why are you so interested in Ralph?”
    I almost told her that I was Ralph’s cousin, but I couldn’t get it out. It would make the moment too emotional, and I wasn’t an emotional person. Instead, I said, “Just curiosity.”
    Why would he be in the balcony of the auditorium alone? If he were really clowning, he probably had an audience. I knew from my own experience that there was no point to showing off if nobody was watching.
    ***
    By lunchtime I was excited— and terrified. Natalie had said she was going to challenge Barney today. What if she lost? She would be humiliated again, and I would be to blame. I couldn’t coach her. I couldn’t even acknowledge that I knew her.
    On the other hand, if she won, I would have two permanent allies. And what allies. Beautiful Natalie. Even if I couldn’t date her, I could have a platonic affair with her behind Joe’s back. And my imagination would do the rest. And Sylvia, who made her own rules and was trying to reform the school. And then I realized that our friendship would help me spy on her. Bleah. Every time I had a happy thought, I was knocked back to reality.
    I went through the lunch line and took my tray to the far end of the cafeteria. I wanted to be as close to the table where Barney played his games as possible. I sat with two boys from my math class. I had earned the right to do so by answering a couple of questions in class. They were Barney admirers. Except where Barney was smart and loud, they were smart and quiet. Which was more typical. Barney was in my math class, too. But he sat across the room from me, and I hadn’t officially met him yet.
    I had no intention of being permanently identified with any particular group. I was going to be a man without a clique. I would associate with anybody and everybody, the way Sylvia did. She was my model. Today she was sitting at the table across the aisle with some other girls, including Natalie. Their excitement was palpable, as they talked rapidly in voices too low to carry to other tables. I knew what they were talking about.
    After about five minutes, Barney showed up at my table. I had thought he might. It would give me a chance to observe the enemy firsthand. He sat across from me, and one of my seatmates introduced us. He stuck out his hand, and I shook it. He was well-dressed for a brain, with a clean sport shirt and pressed pants. And his dark hair was immaculate.
    “You’re the guy who answered all the questions in math,” he said.
    I shrugged. “Once in a while I get lucky.”
    “Are you going to join the chess club?”
    “I might.” That wasn’t on the forbidden list.
    “Maybe you’d like to play a game of nim sometime.”
    The last thing I wanted was for him to think I was interested in nim. I said, “I’m afraid that’s out of my league.”
    As the conversation turned to other things, I found myself sweating with anticipation at what was to come. I had trouble eating, which was unusual for me. But Barney, laughing and chatting, had no idea that his fate, as well as mine, might be determined in the next few minutes.
    Finally he said, “Okay, I need milk cartons.”
    I donated my two, and he set them up on the table beside us, which had been kept empty, not because it was beside the faculty area, which is what I had surmised, but because it was Barney’s private playground. He moved over to that table, and the