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  3. This page that has a whole bunch of Trance MP3s on it. I’ve been downloading them since this morning, and the little meter thing that shows the download progress says they are 86% done.

  4. The IRC chat window. Nobody’s online. I always think empty chat windows are weird. I mean, if there’s nobody in there, what’s the point?

  5. A page that is showing an Error 404 message, so whatever I was trying to find (I can’t remember), it’s not there any more.

  6. My email sign-in page. I already checked it once from school today, but I figure I’ll do it again, mainly because I’m obsessive about things like that, and I figure someone might have sent me something interesting or cool or whatever over the course of the afternoon, something to grab my attention and hold it for a while. Or whatever. You know.

  There is one new message in my inbox. It’s from that Jeremy guy. I can’t think of anything better to do. The music is still blasting in the other room. Heartbeats. Like being in a big womb. It is still overcast outside. I open the message.

  23

  From : Jeremy

  To : Calvin

  Subject : i know u don’t believe me, but …

  hey calvin!

  how r u?? been ages since we talked, hope things are still good. i liked that photo you sent me — ur pretty cute. i’d ~loVe~ 4 us to get together sometime!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!

  remember what i told u last time we were on irc chat, about how i’d posed for those photos and stuff? i know u didn’t believe me, so here’s proof. i can’t believe i’m showing u this but ha! who carez, besides u seem pretty cool

  there’s this guy i know and we were at his apartment one night and he got us really drunk and stoned and stuff and started taking pictures and it was heapz of fun, anyway this is his site. he scans the pics n puts them up there, he’s kind of fucked up but it doesn’t matter. hope u enjoy them but it doesn’t matter and even if you don’t promise u won’t think i’m weird or anything, haha

  hahha i’m pretty stoned if u can’t tell

  we should get together sometime

  stay cool calvin dude!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!

  see ya soon,

  jeremy

  24

  That email from Jeremy makes me remember something I wrote in my notebook a couple of days ago, after this physics class.

  The very act of observing an object will change that object.

  We were offered some convoluted explanation, and we were given examples that actually did make a lot of sense, but I’ve mostly forgotten them now. I know, basically, that as far as real-life objects go, this particular rule holds true. Real-life objects. I’m kind of wondering if pictures on the net count as real-life objects.

  25

  Real-life objects: I kind of debate whether I should click on the link, and this is why. Jeremy, assuming that’s his real name, and assuming the pictures were even of him, is really cute. In spite of my better judgment, I’d like to fuck him. That being the case, seeing pictures of him fucking/being fucked by a third party is possibly the next best thing. In a practical sense, there’s no problem with that, but I don’t know. I don’t know if I want to see pictures of him ‘drunk and stoned and stuff’ in some guy’s apartment. I’d feel kind of dirty. I don’t know.

  But then I start to think about that physics thing. I mean, seriously, the two connect in my mind. I’m kind of fucked up in that respect.

  What I’m thinking is: if Jeremy gets drunk and lets some guy take naked photos of him, and then if nobody is there to see the website where said old pervert posts said photos, will the website still be there? If a tree falls in a forest and nobody is there to hear it, does it make a noise?

  So really, whether or not I go there and whether or not I look at the photos, they will not be affected. They will not change. So as far as I’m concerned, they’re not real-life objects. They’re just … Well, they’re just pictures on a website and who gives a fuck whether or not I look at them?

  I forget where I’m going with this train of thought. I’m bored of trying to rationalise it, and courtesy of that blond guy from the bus I’m still feeling edgy and in need of some method of escape, very quickly.

  Fuck it. Whatever.

  I click on the link. A new window comes up on the screen.

  26

  The site is basically just a whole bunch of pictures of these two stoned-looking boy next door types, one of whom must be ‘Jeremy’, sort of goofing around in this apartment: lying on the floor, slumped over the couch, playing a Playstation, sometimes kissing one another. There is this blond guy who I think is Jeremy — he looks pretty similar to that picture he sent me of himself, assuming it really was a pic of him. I don’t know. Still, the same bleached blond hair. He’s wearing this hooded top, grey, with no sleeves. Like he’s going for a look or whatever, like, street, or queerbait, or possibly a combination of the two. In most of the photos he’s just sort of standing there, posing or showing off or looking kind of arrogant or something, and the whole thing looks forced. But still, he’s definitely cute.

  So at first it’s just a bunch of shots of him and this other guy, who’s brunette, and he has this look about him that’s totally fascinating. I mean, it’s hard to even describe it unless you saw it for yourself, but he looks about my age and he’s really tall, kind of thin; he has this faraway look in his eyes and he’s just kind of, I don’t know, like, other.

  So eventually after a few shots of them messing around and kissing and draped over the couch etc, it’s the two of them in front of these red curtains, which are open a little so you can see it’s night-time. I’m scrolling down through the photos. They’re still standing in the same position by the windows but suddenly they seem a lot friendlier; they’re kissing harder and then the brunette guy is no longer standing, he’s down on his knees in front of Jeremy and he has Jeremy’s cock in his hand; Jeremy’s cargoes and his boxer shorts have slid down around his ankles and the brunette guy’s sort of kissing Jeremy’s cock or whatever, and then he’s taking Jeremy in his mouth and there are a few shots of that, quite a few, from all these different angles, and then suddenly they’re switching then they’ve switched and they’re both naked and basically just taking turns at blowing one another, you know, and I sort of imagine myself in Jeremy’s position, thinking, Yeah, go for it, brunette dude, and kind of getting into it when I go to the next shot and it’s one of the brunette guy all on his own.

  And this one’s weird, because in all the photos before this, both he and Jeremy had their eyes half closed, like they’d just smoked a whole load of pot or they were just like tripping totally on one another’s bodies or they’d gone to this whole other place or something, you know, but in this one, the brunette guy’s eyes are open. And it’s kind of uncomfortable to look at. His eyes are open wide, and it’s like being able to see right inside him, into his thoughts, into his soul. Except there doesn’t seem to be much of anything in there. His expression is blank. Like he’s just there, and he’s dazed or something and staring into the camera only because it’s there. Which is fucked up when you think about it. And his hair, which has been gelled all perfectly in all the photos up to now, is suddenly kind of messy.

  And I don’t know why but the blank look on the brunette guy’s face is making me feel really uncomfortable. I wish he’d stop staring at the camera, close his eyes or something so I don’t have to deal with the look in them. So there are four or five shots of him just like this, just standing there with the traces of a hard-on (like they’d been taken after the blond guy had finished sucking him off), and he just stands there. Looks into the camera. It’s disturbing.

  Then the next shot there’s someone else with him. You can only see the other guy from the shoulders down, but he looks older, or something, and he’s wearing boxer shorts. Whoever he is, he’s not the blond guy, that’s for sure. And then in the next one he’s not wearing the boxers any more, he’s sort of pul
ling them down around his ankles, and the brunette guy is still just standing there with that totally blank look on his face. And then the guy, no longer in boxers, is fucking the brunette kid. There are shots of it from all these different angles, shots of the brunette kid being fucked by this guy, who seems to be really going for it. But the expression on the brunette kid’s face doesn’t change at all, and his eyes are still wide open, staring. It’s like there’s nothing in there at all; further along in the sequence there are two guys doing it to him, and he doesn’t seem to notice at all. He’s just there with that empty look on his face, just taking it, and it’s like he’s dead.

  27

  I can’t deal with it. I mean I fucking freak out for a few minutes. I head to the living room, turn the music up incredibly loud and just sit there really losing it and I have to sit there for a while to calm down. I’m freaking for two reasons:

  a) The fact that the brunette boy is so good-looking. That, I suspect, is the real problem. The idea that someone so fucking cute could be in a position where two guys are fucking him at once while someone else takes photographs to put up on some website. The idea of that really gets to me, a lot. I start thinking about him, wondering who he is, what he must have been thinking.

  b) The fact that the brunette boy looks so much like me. Not just on a physical level. I mean, yeah, on a physical level he does kind of look like me. But from that it’s possible to extrapolate a whole lot more reasons why we’re alike. He looks about my age. He could even be in my grade. He looks fairly healthy. I mean healthy in the sense that he doesn’t look too sick, too thin, and he probably comes from a comfortable middle-class family and might even be into the same music and the same video games as I am. From the way he looks, he’s the kind of boy you’d see out clubbing, who might easily live in one of the houses along my street.

  I put myself in his position, wonder what it would be like. I imagine how it would feel. Doing those things, I mean. Letting myself go like that. It could be me. Realistically. It could. I kind of like it. I think. This sparks off a weird self-hatred vibe which is not at all pleasant.

  Whatever. I don’t want to think too much about this.

  28

  I leave that photo of the brunette boy up there. I go upstairs to shower, change clothes. He’s still there when I get back downstairs and he still has exactly the same look on his face.

  I click the little x in the corner to close the window.

  29

  Clothes are important. The way you dress is the best way of projecting the person you are, or the person you want to be. For example, there are Valley types, boys who wear skinny T-shirts with ironic slogans on the front. Boys who want to look like they’re artists, or in rock bands, or something. These guys cultivate cool, in a fascist sort of a way, and for the most part they pull it off. Then there are gay boys, who put a lot of product in their hair and favour the tight black Bonds shirt. Boys who look like they get laid a lot more than you, who look pretty, or slutty or just generally hot. There are girls who dress punk or over the top cute or whatever, who hoard old Cure albums and stuffed toys and wear dresses that are torn in just the right places. They’re usually doing it to hide some insecurity or other, but then that’s true of pretty much everyone. Dressing in Polo Ralph Lauren says, My parents make more money than yours; dressing all in black says, I think about, y’know, deep and meaningful stuff all the time. It’s all just a big game … or something.

  Tonight, the look I’m going for is Valley. I am wearing:

  a) This black shirt: Tight, with ‘Brain Dead Body Still Rockin’ printed across the front. Stupid yet effective.

  b) Cargo pants: Green, with this orange stitching around the edges. I don’t know if I’m wearing them because I like them or because everyone is wearing them at the moment. Anyway, it doesn’t matter.

  c) This thin strap of leather: Margot and I both tie these around our wrists whenever we go out together. It’s a friend thing and it’s kind of dorky and would probably take a long time to explain, but trust me.

  d) My docs: They’re black.

  Dumb: Think dumb. I hope it works for tonight. That is, I’m really fucking hoping to meet someone at this party. I have the kind of personality that tends to put guys off. I’ve learned this lesson before — using too many big words tends to scare all the cute boys away. That’s why it always works better when I switch that part of me off, say as little as possible and just try to appear cute. Shallowness is a lot more fun anyway. I’m bored of not getting laid and that thing on the net has made me feel kind of tense and edgy. I’m in the mood for some brainless fun tonight.

  30

  I’m listening to music as I’m getting changed. Bryan Molko is urging me over and over to change my taste in men and I’m mouthing the words into the mirror as I get dressed. That image of the brunette buy from the net is still with me. I try not to think of him but I can’t help it. And I do what I always do when there’s something unpleasant that’s bothering me, something I’d rather forget about. Which is to say, I spend all my energy not thinking about it until I don’t think about it so hard it gives me a headache.

  The sky is still full of big, grey clouds when I leave the house. It feels as though it’s been overcast forever, like the sky will always growl and threaten rain. It’s not like I mind though — I prefer rainy days. When the sky is grey, it makes everything easier to deal with.

  31

  On the way to Margot’s a girl got on the bus and she catches my attention. She has bangs, and she’s wearing this black shirt with ‘HARLOT’ written across it in huge letters, so the word takes up the whole front of the shirt. She and her boyfriend get on together. He has bleached blond hair, a dog-collar and too much eyeliner, and they both look kind of industrial or goth or whatever. Thing is, I was watching them as the bus was approaching. She was smoking, then when she saw the bus coming, she took this huge, long, graceful drag of her cigarette then ground it out, slowly, deliberately, on her boyfriend’s arm. He didn’t flinch. He didn’t even seem to notice. I was thinking: What the fuck? They kissed once, then got on the bus.

  I have Ladytron on my discman. I turn it up and stare out the window, trying to look at nothing at all. The girl’s voice is telling me that they only want you when you’re seventeen. When you’re twenty-one, it seems you’re no fun.

  32

  Margot’s house is in Ascot, near the top of a hill. It’s big and fairly new, the kind of house that says, ‘We have lots of money but we definitely haven’t sold out’, if you have any idea what I mean.

  Margot greets me at the door, wearing a very tight shirt with a picture of Sid Vicious on it. Smiles.

  Margot: Calvin!

  Me: Hey Margot, how are ya?

  Margot: Pretty well … Dude, you look fucking hot tonight.

  Me: You think?

  Margot: Totally porno. I’d fuck you.

  Me: You wish.

  Margot: Wishing’s for losers.

  At this point, she hugs me, or I hug her, or one of us hugs the other — I don’t know, it’s like this ritual.

  Me: Where’s Haruki this afternoon?

  Margot: The raccoon? Oh yeah. He got rabies. Tragic story … Really tragic. Had to be shot.

  Me: I can imagine.

  Margot: It’s for the best really.

  Me It was just a matter of time. So … Do you have any drugs?

  Margot: Thought you’d never ask. Come in.

  33

  I ask where her family is. She tells me we have the place to ourselves. Her parents have gone away for the weekend and her older brother is at the Gold Coast with his girlfriend.

  Margot’s older brother: Nick is pretty much your archetypal boy next door. He’s in his second year of an engineering degree or whatever — I don’t know, something incredibly normal anyway — and he’s been going out with the same girl since grade eleven. They’re totally into each other. I’ve seen them. It’s cute. They’re probably going to get married and p
opulate the world with incredibly normal children. In a way I kind of envy them that.

  Anyway, this is all very … blah. Nick, Paul, the way life seems like it’s so … straightforward for some people, and the moral of the story is that this afternoon I’d rather just smoke a fuckload of weed and not think about it. If that shows a weakness of character on my part, then so be it. That’s what being a spoiled teenage brat is all about.

  I start thinking about that brunette boy from the net again: I can still see that look in his eyes. I wonder if he’s someone’s brother. The idea of that gets to me even more.

  All of this flashes through my mind in about an eighth of a second, but in that time Margot happens to be looking at me and sees the expression on my face.

  Margot: You right tiger?

  Calvin: Yeah. Thinking about something else.

  Margot: Okay.

  So yeah. Let the fun begin.

  34

  ‘Hey!’ Margot says as we near the top of the staircase. ‘I nearly forgot — I made you something.’

  ‘What is it?’ I ask.

  She turns back to me, evil grin on her face. ‘Wait and see. You’ll die.’

  ‘I’m intrigued,’ I tell her as she dashes down the hallway to her bedroom.

  Alone in the staircase, the house feels a little surreal. Too … empty and modern, like the set of a film whose director was aiming for a hip/contemporary/urban kinda feel. It’s not quite right, and I start to feel uncomfortable, closed in.