CALVIN

fifty-one: the rock

What did Schneider think, the day of the Christmas dinner? Did he think about the coming night? Had he wondered how it would happen? If he'd succeed? If someone would find him before it was done? If he'd change his mind half-way through?

Had he planned that night? Had he orchestrated the entire thing for months? Prepared the blade, the alcohol, the sign on the door. He chose black pen ink instead of blue, or red. He chose a piece of lined paper, ripped from a school notebook. He chose tape. He chose to leave the door unlocked. He chose to sit there, a metre away from the shower, underneath that one window. He chose to stay in his dinner suit. He chose no note. No good-bye. 

The evidence suggested it was a spontaneous decision. Something at the dinner triggered him. He hugged me. He came back to house 19. He didn't want to traumatize us, so he warned us. Don't open the door. Just call the police. That was what the sign on the door said, if I remember it right. But I was high. I opened it anyways. 

...

"Look, guys. Guys. Can everyone focus, please? Thank you. I want someone to tell me, well, just one theme of the book. And please don't say syntax again, Abi."

Everyone laughed, including Abi. The lights in the classroom were off, as they were most of the time, because the windows were so large. Messy scrawl on the green chalkboard. Ms Vecoli stood at the front of the class, chalk in hand, mess of curly black hair pulled up in a last-minute bun. Today she wore a Cormac McCarthy t-shirt that showed the tattoos on her bicep. Dark-wash jeans. Doctor Martens. 

Calvin was sitting on the other side of the room. Oxford hoodie and black joggers. He didn't really bother to get dressed, today. Sitting beside Viktor, who wore a white cable-knit jumper over a blue collared button-down, skinny khakis and Ralph Lauren boat shoes, the contrast was striking. It made me wonder what Calvin's mornings, in house 8, looked like. Did he get up an hour before class, or five minutes? What did he spend most of his morning time on? Last-minute homework, watching YouTube, doing sit-ups, eating breakfast? When he lived with me in house 19 for, like, four days, he pretty much mimicked my morning routine. Wake up, lay in bed for another hour, and then shower. Get dressed into something I didn't think much about. Slowly start the day. 

"I think love is probably a big theme," Abi decided to say. He was one of those people in class who said a lot of nothing. "I mean, for example, this guy - David - is pretty romantic. And he sees everything as being romantic. Like his affair and everything."

"Okay," Ms Vecoli said. She was thinking. 

"The main theme is desire." This was Toby, who generally only ever spoke in class if he had a strike of genius (which was rarely). All heads turned to him. For some reason, he looked amused. Sitting back in his chair, slight smirk, a playful winkle in his eyes. It made me think there was subtext here that I wasn't picking up on yet. "David Lurie is the teacher, and he desires this girl - his student - right? But she doesn't desire him. And he kind of knows that, like he's pretty self-decrep-decip-de? - "

"Depricating."

"Right, that. Right, so, it's desire, but also power. He desires his student and feels bad for himself that she doesn't desire him back. But he's missing the fact that this power dynamic is, like, a power dynamic. He's the old guy, the teacher, and she's just a young student. Obviously he's going to have more power. Obviously she's not going to want to say no to him. Maybe because she doesn't want a bad grade but also maybe because she's just young, and we teach our young to respect our elders and give them whatever they want. Which is fucked-up. Anyways."

Ms Vecoli nodded. "Yeah, and, I want to bring you guys back to the part where David says 'It's not quite rape' - "

A cough from Toby, and he muttered out: "Which is ironic."