Fag by Jonathan Hill

Author:Jonathan Hill [Hill, Jonathan]
Language: eng
Format: epub
Goodreads: 23446436
Publisher: Jonathan Hill
Published: 2014-05-23T23:00:00+00:00

XII

“AND WHY DO YOU THINK he positioned this word here?” Gray asked.

Thompson stared at the open text book, his lips moving silently. “Was it for impact, Sir?”

“Precisely, Thompson, precisely. You see, it stands out at the end of the line. It wouldn’t normally go there, would it, if Virgil were following typical sentence construction? But by positioning it at the very end, he draws attention to it. Its position highlights its importance, yes?”

Thompson nodded, the lead of his pencil shining where it had been resting on his lower lip, which had been pushed out in silent understanding.

Gray smiled at the boy beside him. After what had been implied over recent weeks, he had been reluctant to give extra tuition to Thompson in his study. He had initially felt it too risky, but in a moment of recklessness, worn down by Thompson’s admirable persistence, he had changed his mind. After all, wasn’t this what he now lived for? His teaching? To pass up on the chance to stretch further one of the brightest boys in the school would have been remiss of him. It would have gone against everything he believed in. He saw a flame flickering in Thompson’s mind. He believed it to be his duty to stoke the fire and let the furnace roar. And at moments such as this, the pair of them as one, understanding, interpreting, the words of one who lived so many years earlier, it really did.

“Now,” Gray continued, pressing the book’s spine down with his fingertips, “look here. Next line. The first word. What do you notice?”

Thompson thought for a second then ventured an answer. “I’d say Virgil added it there at the beginning deliberately. Again for emphasis.”

“Yes,” Gray said with a smile. “And what else do you notice?” he continued with excitement building. This was special. Things like this didn’t happen in normal classes. For one, Thompson was considerably more gifted at Latin than his classmates and they simply couldn’t study the text at this level as a group. Furthermore, the boys often appeared academically brighter as individuals than when surrounded by their peers, reluctant as they were to raise their heads above the parapet of mediocrity and publicly shine in front of their classmates.

Thompson had been in his study fifteen minutes, twenty at most, and already he had made pleasing progress. It was a delight to watch him work, and again, Thompson reminded Gray of himself when he was that age. Struggling to find a niche. Fitting in with others but at the same time not quite fitting in. And, of course, showing a natural flair for the classics.

At that moment, the low sun’s light creeping into his study and illuminating the fine down of hair on Thompson’s hand, nothing else in the world mattered to Gray. The teacher and the taught. The older and the young. One on his way down, the other on the cusp of greatness, the whole world at his feet. Yes, it was Thompson’s face which had appeared more than once in his dreams.

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