Black Chalk

Emilia tried to defuse the sense of tension now filling the air. ‘So, Jolyon,’ she said, ‘when do we get to hear whatever it is you’ve been saving up for us all night?’

Jolyon turned his head, his lips softening then forming a smile. ‘Right now, Emilia, straight away,’ he said. He dropped the bottle of aspirin into its correct place in the mug and bounced back over to his bed.

XVII

XVII Let me clear one thing up. It has not been my intention to trick you, that is absolutely not the purpose of my story.

But I have just spent some time looking over everything I have written and it seems I might not have properly introduced myself. This failure was merely an oversight. Or perhaps it was my subconscious intention only to illustrate the distance I have travelled from my youth, another continent. So now a proper introduction. Hello, my name is Jolyon Johnson. And I am very happy to make your acquaintance.

And I have also realised there remains something else I have failed to explain. This story should serve not only as a warning, my confession. I am writing this story because I need to understand the real Chad, the one he kept hidden. Because if I can understand the real Chad, then maybe I can defeat him.

XVIII

XVIII(i) Jolyon told them the tale but he allowed Jack to embroider its telling with colourful detail. The ploughers and Sock Soc. Impersonations of Game Soc that cast them as the witches from Macbeth.

‘Count me in then,’ said Mark, his eyes drifting with the hash smoke in the room. He was still lying on the floor but to indicate enormous enthusiasm he had hoisted himself modestly onto his elbows.

‘Just like that,’ said Emilia, ‘you’re in, Mark? No questions?’

‘It’s an interesting idea,’ said Mark. ‘There aren’t many interesting ideas going round.’

‘And just think of all those opportunities to humiliate Jack,’ said Chad.

Emilia scowled. ‘How can I possibly humiliate Jack any more than he already humiliates himself every day? With his own words.’

‘No, that’s fair enough,’ said Jack, ‘although it shows why the psychology student wouldn’t stand a chance going up against . . . History Boy.’ Jack mimed tearing open his shirt.

‘Maybe he’s right, Emilia,’ said Jolyon, shooting her a provocative look. ‘What if Jack can’t be beaten?’

‘Of course Jack can be beaten,’ Emilia scoffed. ‘Humour’s his shield. All you have to do is work out what it’s shielding him from and he’s . . . history.’ She winced. ‘Pun intended. Very sorry.’

‘See,’ said Mark, ‘the sweet-seeming psychology student’s already one step ahead of the rest of us.’ Mark let his elbows slide until his head was back on the cushion. ‘Now that’s interesting,’ he said.

‘Ten thousand pounds, Emilia,’ said Jolyon, whistling. ‘And wouldn’t it be fun? It would probably bring us all closer together. We need to stick together, remember.’

Emilia shifted uncomfortably in the armchair. ‘Well, it wouldn’t be about the money for me,’ she said.

‘No?’ said Jack. ‘But think of all those pretty shoes you could buy, Emilia.’

‘Just shut it, Jack.’

‘Come on, Emilia.’ said Jolyon. Chad recognised the edge in his tone, Jolyon’s don’t disappoint me voice. ‘Just say yes, at least for now.’ But Jolyon always seemed unaware of the weight in his words. Chad supposed he wouldn’t be half as persuasive if his methods were only a trick. ‘For all of us, Em.’

Emilia glanced down at her feet and then looked around at her friends. ‘Fine then,’ she said. ‘I suppose I’m in. But I would like to know more about this strange little Game Soc before we go any further.’

Mark, his eyes closed, took a last puff of the joint and waved it in the air. ‘That’s almost the most interesting part of all,’ he said, as Jolyon plucked the offering from his fingers.

‘Well, I don’t know who Game Soc are,’ said Jack, ‘but I know who they certainly aren’t. They’re not those closeted homosexuals of Sock Soc.’

‘God, that’s so homophobic, Jack,’ said Emilia.

‘What’s homophobic about that?’ said Jack, playing his outrage forcefully. ‘Is it homophobic simply to recognise another man for what he is, a closet gay? To look at him and see in his eyes that he hides his true self from an uncaring society? Don’t you first need to understand who a person really is before you can begin to sympathise with him? Is it really homophobic to notice when a man is suppressing his true hungers and desires? His dreams, his yearnings. His all-consuming love of long, hard man-cock?’

Jolyon coughed on his smoke, it rushed out of his nose and his eyes filled with tears.

‘See,’ said Emilia, ‘you find homosexuality amusing, Jack. You joke about it constantly but there’s nothing intrinsically funnier about gay sex than straight sex. It’s all just trains and tunnels. Humour’s your defence mechanism against anything that scares you. And it clearly does scare you. Fear, Jack, that’s what a phobia is.’