Tap & Gown Read Online Free PDF

George one iota. He’d even started to support it. Time to get over yourself, Amy.
    In my bedroom, I sat down at my desk and opened the lid on my laptop. A few e-mails, including one from my mom about commencement travel plans—nothing I couldn’t wait until tomorrow to answer. The file with my thesis draft was open. I clicked over and stared at the blinking cursor for a few minutes.
    An IM window popped up on my screen.
    DinkStover : Hey. Wondered when you’d be getting home.
    The new window flashed at me, daring me to accept something from this stranger. Whoever Dink Stover was, he knew I wouldn’t be back until late. I clicked Accept.
    DinkStover : How did it go?
    I smiled. Oh, he knew, all right.
    AmyHaskel : Jamie?
    DinkStover : Do I need to provide the secret handshake?
    AmyHaskel : Can’t be too careful these days.
    DinkStover : Good girl.
    I pursed my lips. What, was I a dog?
    DinkStover : So how did it go?
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    AmyHaskel : Fine.
    My fingers hovered over the keys. Should I tell him it was sheer torture? Ask him how in the world he survived it, especially as a voice of dissent? I barely got involved in the discussion and I was miserable.
    He must have been the most wretched person on the planet. Especially since, to Jamie, Rose & Grave meant everything.
    DinkStover : It’s okay if you don’t want to talk about it.
    Long hesitation.
    DinkStover : But I’m here if you need a shoulder to lean on.
    When I didn’t answer, he wrote again.
    DinkStover : You still there?
    AmyHaskel : Yeah. I’m taking a screenshot for evidence that there is a Gentle Jamie.
    No response.
    AmyHaskel: I’m joking.
    DinkStover: No you’re not.
    AmyHaskel: It’s harder to tease you when I can’t see your face.
    DinkStover: I’m not walking over there at two-thirty in the morning.
    DinkStover: Wait … that *was* an invitation, right?
    I bit my lip. Was it? I didn’t even know anymore.
    AmyHaskel: Pretty tired, actually. Class tomorrow.
    DinkStover: I understand. So at least tell me how many people you’ve got on your short list.
    I should have figured a die-hard Digger like Jamie wouldn’t give up so easy on hearing details about our deliberations.
    AmyHaskel: I haven’t thought that far ahead yet.
    DinkStover: You’d better believe they have.
    AmyHaskel: What do you mean?
    DinkStover: You were a shoo-in for Quill & Ink last year, right?
    AmyHaskel: Until you guys screwed it up.
    DinkStover: But you knew it. You were expecting it.
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    AmyHaskel: Yeah?
    DinkStover: Well, this year’s shoo-ins for us are expecting it, too.
    AmyHaskel: But what does that matter to us? I’m not going to tap someone just because they expect it.
    DinkStover: Spoken like Malcolm’s true little sib. But don’t go the other way, either. Don’t *not* tap someone because it’s expected.
    I frowned at the screen. Don’t lecture me .
    AmyHaskel: This? This right here? It’s why I didn’t want to talk about it.
    DinkStover: Okay. I’ll just assume it’s the three, then.
    The three? The three what? Were we each supposed to start from a list of three and pare down? Josh hadn’t mentioned that this evening, but maybe that’s because everyone else knew how it worked. After all, they’d been part of the whole winnowing-down process. But if that was the case, why would Malcolm have had to pick me last year? After the whole debacle with Genevieve, couldn’t he have gone to either of his two backups? Or was I always a backup, and it was standard procedure to keep us thoroughly in the dark as to our status? I hesitated, then began to type.
    AmyHaskel: Probably going to regret this, but what’s “the three”?
    DinkStover: The three people I already know you have on your short list.
    AmyHaskel: And who, pray tell, would they be?
    DinkStover: The usual suspects: EIC of the Eli Daily News, managing ed. of same, and, because it’s you, the EIC of the Lit Mag.
    AmyHaskel: Oh. Those.
    Of course that was how it would work. Rose & Grave always