Black Chalk

Mark had perhaps fared the worst in the first round. He had to face two challenges from the more serious end of the scale, both cards coming from the third pot. The first was entitled ‘Beggar-man Rich’. To perform this consequence he had to sit for half a day on the pavement outside the university library’s most ancient buildings, wearing the apparel in which the university insisted its undergraduates should dress for all important events. Black suit with white shirt and white bow tie, black gown and mortar board. In front of him Mark had to hold a sign reading, ‘Student requires donations to fund beer consumption. All contributions gratefully imbibed!’ The card further stipulated that the receptacle for donations should be an ornate and silvery soup tureen.

Mark completed the challenge while Shortest observed on behalf of Game Soc. The other players took turns to mill around him for an hour each, both for their own amusement and also to protect him in case the public vitriol became physical.

In the bar that evening Mark remained entirely phlegmatic as he tore up the card and dropped its pieces into an ashtray. ‘It wasn’t so bad,’ he said, yawning and spreading his arms. ‘I’ll admit, though, I haven’t ever been called a cunt quite so many times in a day.’ He waited for the knowing nods of his friends and then added, ‘Who’d have guessed so many of the old ladies even knew the word.’

For his second challenge, ‘Academic Polemic’, Mark had to submit an article to Pitt’s weekly newsletter. The piece had to argue that British students did not deserve to receive government grants and the American model of higher education was greatly preferable. Tallest insisted upon the power of approval before the article was submitted to the Pitt Pendulum, concerned that Mark might employ a satirical tone, like Swift proposing the eating of babies in famine-stricken Ireland. But in the end he changed not a single word. Mark had hoped the Pendulum would never publish such a piece. But in fact it did, as its topmost story and beneath the headline, ‘Pitt Turkey Votes For Xmas’.

Mark seemed to suffer the barbs that came his way after publication with a laid-back air. He never lost his temper with his assailants, who would stop him in front quad or corner him in the bar. Instead he argued the case as if he genuinely believed his words. Only once did Chad think he detected a twitch. The Student Union president, a little drunk, started to shout across the bar. Mark was stupid, he was ignorant, an idiot. Mark raised his glass as if he found the name-calling mildly amusing. But after he put down the glass he gulped hard and when he saw Chad’s eyes on him, Mark looked quickly away.

Emilia’s solitary consequence came from the second pot. She was mandated to raise her hand during a lecture and ask for permission to visit the toilet. The words on the card went on to speculate, correctly as it transpired, that the lecturer would then point out that permission to visit the men’s or ladies’ room was not required. And so, upon this actually coming to pass, Emilia responded, just as the card instructed her, ‘What, not even for number twos?’

It was a dare that perhaps Jack could have pulled off without suffering any humiliation. But Emilia had none of Jack’s comic powers and could not convey in her voice or bearing that she was in on any sort of joke. Yes, there was laughter in the lecture hall but the amusement didn’t embrace Emilia as she skulked from the room. The laughter pitied her, the room felt embarrassed on her behalf.

Emilia drank more that evening than she was accustomed to drinking. But still she felt the heat in her face and a breathless pinching in the paths of her chest. The shame flowed through her the whole night long and when she awoke the next morning, she became convinced she could sense an approaching sickness in the back of her throat. For the benefit of her fellow students, whom she did not wish to infect, she decided to skip the day’s lectures. By the following morning the sickness had been successfully repelled and a flushed Emilia returned to her lecture-mates.

Dee had earned a single consequence from the second pot, the wearing of a touristy Oxford T-shirt for a week rather than her more usual melodramas. It discomfited her more than she allowed anyone to see. Meanwhile Jolyon and Jack both fared almost as well as Chad, each with only one of the lesser consequences. Although unlike Chad they did at least comprehend the supposed embarrassment the dares were intended to provoke. But the challenges were neither severe nor of the sort that would prey upon their unique sensitivities.