‘Just go right ahead and erect yourself, Jackie-oh,’ said Cassie. She tried to sound indifferent but there was a trace of defeat in her voice.
‘I’ll take that as a yes then. And taking the Roman numerals into consideration, we came up a special nickname for you. We’re going to call you Dee. Dee for five hundred, Dee for death.’
Chad shrank inside. He didn’t want this girl to think he had been part of a group talking in secret about her, discussing rumours, concocting names.
‘I love it,’ said Dee, clapping. ‘Yes, Dee it is, you have my absolute approval. And meanwhile I’m going to call you Jackie-oh, Jackie-oh. Like Jackie Onassis. You’ve got her far-apart eyes and also that whiff of bringing tragedy to all those round you. And when I get back to my room I’m going to write a poem all about you, Jackie-oh, my first ever limerick.’
Jack stared at the ceiling. ‘Nothing rhymes with Jackie-oh,’ he said.
‘Ralph Macchio,’ Mark called out from the floor. ‘The kid from Karate Kid.’
‘No, no,’ said Dee. She twisted her fingers creatively in front of her. ‘The first line would read something like . . . A boy who was surly and blunt.’
Jolyon rapped his knuckles on his bedside table. ‘Well, I for one could listen to this all night long. And I know Jack could keep going possibly forever. But right now we need to talk about the Game,’ he said.
XXI
XXI Early on in my morning routine I find a cup on my breakfast plate and a matchstick inside the cup. It takes me a few minutes but then I decipher the new mnemonic.
Cup: tea. Matchstick: fire: fire escape!
And so in the morning I eat breakfast perched on the giddying slats of my fire escape. I feel like a tourist enjoying a fine vacation breakfast, a rare meal eaten with a warm sigh and unhurried eagerness for the day.
My neighbour across the street is also breakfasting on his fire escape. He has a sunlounger in which he sits, sockless, filling in the crossword and dabbing his finger to pick up the crumbs of his croissant. And then it comes back to me – this was part of my routine three years ago, before I shut my curtains and blinds. We used to acknowledge each other whenever we were outside at the same time. He notices me looking across and tilts his head as if pleasantly surprised to see me. And then he raises his cup.
I return the gesture, smiling, and my neighbour goes back to his crossword. I feel a new kind of strength flowing into my chest.
And then my mood changes. While sitting there it comes to me that last night I dreamed of the six of us. I don’t think I have dreamed of us together for many years now.
Dreams can be so crude and unforgiving, they blur the subtleties of why and wherefore, the complexities of cause and effect. In last night’s dream everything becomes entirely my fault. Blame points its finger squarely at me in the form of a single blunt metaphor. In the dream I have a gun, I am defending myself, I pull the trigger. Game over.
And I wake up, as I do every morning of every day, seeing their faces again.
Victim. Victim’s mother.
I feel her arms around me. I see the tears running down her face as she thanks me, as she tells me what a good friend I have been. And I accept her gratitude, I keep the truth to myself.
And the guilt overwhelms me. It tightens its grip. The guilt is a knot that will never come undone.
XXII
XXII(i) At the end of their discussion of the Game Soc proposal, Emilia wondered whether it would be better to wait a while before beginning to play. Chad disagreed but tried to keep from his voice any resentment, although he felt like a child on Christmas morning told he had to wait until lunchtime for the opening of gifts. He was only at Pitt for a year, he explained, so they should begin right away. But it was their first term in Oxford, Emilia countered, and she wanted a chance to enjoy everything university life had to offer. So they called for a show of hands. And although Jolyon sided with Chad, the two of them lost the group’s first ever vote.
XXII(ii) They met Tallest and Middle and Shortest in a small cafe where the breakfasts were cheap and greasy and came with good chips. Jolyon and Chad and Jack went along. Chad felt like a general parleying battle terms.
They ate as they negotiated, Jolyon and Tallest doing most of the talking.
Tallest began by apologising. Game Soc had one further condition, it was remiss of him not to have mentioned it earlier. They required control over one consequence, Game Soc would choose the penalty for losing on a single occasion. But they would announce it later on, at the appropriate moment. Tallest assured them this required nothing illegal of them and it was nothing beyond the rules or spirit of their game.
Jolyon turned to his partners. Jack shrugged and Chad nodded.
Otherwise, there was little that proved controversial. Tallest was happy with the examples of consequences they had presented him, most of the darker ones having been suggested by Jack. And he accepted that not all them could be drawn up in advance, only those who survived would devise the later tests. The fittest or luckiest, bravest or most skilful, were those who should make the Game tougher with each passing round.
Once Jolyon could see Game Soc were happy with their proposal he mentioned, almost in passing, that they would begin playing at the start of second term. There followed a moment’s silence and Middle looked as if he was about to say something but winced suddenly in pain, looking down at his leg on the side Shortest was sitting. Then Middle folded his arms tight and kept quiet. Tallest was smiling as if unaware of anything happening next to him. The timing was not ideal, he suggested, was there any possibility of beginning as soon as possible? But Jolyon stood firm, a vote had been taken, there was nothing more could be done. Democracy had spoken. Tallest raised his eyebrows but gestured for Jolyon to continue.
They would play every Sunday and expected to finish maybe by the end of second term. Or almost certainly by the end of third. Not that there would be any limit to the end of the Game. It was last man standing.
No one back then could have imagined how much longer it would take.
XXII(iii) While Game Soc had grudgingly accepted a delay to the beginning of the Game, they had however insisted that deposits be handed over a week to the day after the breakfast meeting.
A thousand pounds was only a little less than each of them, apart from Chad, received each term in student grants. And they had already paid battels to Pitt, which accounted for a large proportion of their available funds.
It was Jolyon who came up with the solution. He had noticed that the local banks were eager for Oxford students to open accounts with them. Some of them offered financial rewards and all of them offered overdraft facilities. So around the city each of them traipsed opening new accounts anywhere they could. And then around they went again, withdrawing the daily limit from various cashpoints in the city, an overdraft carousel.
Chad, meanwhile, had some money saved he could use. He had worked the whole summer long, a tedious data entry job for Susan Leonard’s alumni database. He thought that he would use his savings to travel around Europe during spring break and then perhaps in the summer before returning to the States. Although in the end, of course, he never made it as far as the summer at Pitt.
Tallest arrived at Jolyon’s room at the prearranged time. He had with him a brown leather briefcase. A small piece of blue tape was stuck above its brass buckle.