Concentr8

by William Sutcliffe

  but not sweet like a cake or something

  sweet in a ripe acid pukey way

  Karen don’t do it neither I have weird dreams about her but I reckon everyone does I mean she’s so awesome

  I wouldn’t ever do nothing because Blaze would kill me and I don’t reckon she’s into me or anything but that don’t mean I can’t have dreams sort of porno dreams no harm in it is there?

  he’s walking in!

  that’s when I think I’m the lookout!

  shit!

  I’m not just supposed to look I’m supposed to do something!

  shit!

  and he just like walked in and I’m too late shit I got to do something about it

  shit

  and I seen him before I know I have

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  The electronic Medicines Compendium (eMC), Side-effects for Ritalin listed as ‘common’ or ‘very common’

  TROY

  Nobody knows how he did it. It’s not like he said anything or told us what he’d figured out. Then one minute we’re just hanging like normal – and nothing seems to be going on – but the door opens and there’s footsteps and suddenly we’re all up on our feet thinking it’s the feds coming in to bust us but it ain’t. It’s just one guy. The mayor. The fucking mayor.

  Everyone just stares then Lee comes in screaming his head off until he sees he’s too late – the guy’s in already. He stops shouting for a second then says it’s him! Wassisname! Then Lee realises there’s no point cause he’s miles behind as usual and shuts up.

  Blaze comes up to me – turns his back on the others – and hands me something. It’s his phone.

  Video it he says quiet in my ear but not so he notices. Start when he’s sitting.

  I nod but Blaze don’t even see cause he’s already gone over to the mayor.

  Where’s the girl? The journalist? says Blaze not in the way you’d think you should talk to the mayor or someone like that – just totally straight and normal not impressed or nothing. He’s not disrespecting him but he ain’t respecting him neither.

  She couldn’t come he says – and it’s weird cause it’s the exact same voice as on the telly and the exact same face and everything – but just having it right there in front of you in the real world is sort of mental like it’s Harry Potter or Buzz Lightyear or something – alive in the same room having a conversation. Just don’t seem real. Part of me wants to poke him with a finger to check.

  Blaze don’t seem freaked or nothing though – cause he just says bullshit. I ain’t talking without her here.

  You can see the mayor weren’t expecting that. He flinches and shuffles like he only just realised for the first time that it ain’t going to be all pleases and thank-yous in here like what he’s used to. Let me explain. There’s a reason he says. His voice already less cocky – less TV smooth.

  Don’t bullshit me.

  If you want me to help you –

  Don’t bullshit me.

  Please says the mayor – his eyes flicking towards the door like he’s having second thoughts already and wondering whether to just run for it. If we’re going to do some kind of deal there are some things I can only say in private. Away from journalists. Do you understand?

  Not really.

  What I can say and what I can be seen to say are two different things.

  Blaze stares at him with sideways eyes. Let’s sit down he says after a long gap.

  First I need to see the hostage. Check that he’s OK.

  You can see him but you can’t talk to him.

  The mayor nods and Blaze leads him away. There’s a weird vibe after they’ve gone like the place where the mayor was standing is a ticking bomb that’s going to blow up any second. We all just stand there not moving not saying nothing just staring at the empty space. Femi looks at me and he still don’t speak but does like a silent shout with just his lips saying WHAT THE FUCK!?

  Did Blaze know he was coming? says Karen looking at me.

  I shrug. Dunno. Looks like it.

  I’m freaking? says Karen. I’m so freaking right now.

  That’s the mayor ain’t it? says Lee.

  Course it is you shitwad says Femi. Who d’you think it was?

  Lee’s face shrinks embarrassed but trying to cover it. I’m just saying …

  So thick man.

  You are.

  You are.

  They’re coming back I say.

  We go quiet and just stand there while the footsteps get closer. There’s no talking just the shuffle of shoes on concrete. The mayor’s got them poncey heels that click-clack with each step, like an early warning system to let everyone know what a dick you are before you even arrive.

  They sit – the mayor looking proper nervous now – you can tell the sight of his guy tied to a radiator has put the shitters up him badly. He looks all round the room like he’s checking nobody’s hiding ready to jump him – and after he’s sat he shuffles his chair nearer to the window.

  What you doing? says Blaze.

  The mayor stops shifting around. Just getting comfortable he says through tight lips and trying to smile but it ain’t even close to a real one – it’s more like what you do just before you puke. Blaze gives me a quick look but he don’t need to cause I already got the video running – held in one hand near my waist so it don’t look like I’m doing nothing. Just a half-nod and Blaze knows I’m on it.

  I didn’t think you’d come says Blaze.

  Nobody thought I’d come. But I took the view that I’m sure you are reasonable people who can be negotiated with in a way that leads this to a peaceful outcome.

  Bullshit you’re bullshitting me. Only language you speak, ain’t it?

  Why else would I come?

  For yourself.

  I’m not the issue here.

  Says who?

  There’s a hostage in this building. A member of my staff. I’m here to get him out.

  Yeah but first I need to know if you can speak any language other than bullshit and it looks like you can’t.

  That may be your opinion and you’re entitled to it but let’s talk about the hostage. We’d all like to get him safely released yet you don’t appear to have issued any demands. What is it you want?

  You ain’t here for him you’re here for yourself.

  I think we need to try and get less side-tracked here.

  You can have him.

  I beg your pardon?

  You can have him back. We don’t want him no more.

  You mean . . . now?

  Yeah. Why not? But we need a couple of things. There’s no way we’re all getting off is there?

  I’m afraid that’s not possible.

  Then it’s gotta be just me. You got it on security cameras ain’t you? When we took him? You can see it’s just me that done this. The others ain’t done nothing. I made them come here.

  That ain’t true! I shout. Don’t know why but I’m almost crying. Seriously almost. The tears are right there just ready to spring out cause I know that whatever I do Blaze is going to make this happen and it’s all going to fall on him.

  Shut it Troy he snaps – not loud but proper angry.

  Why are you doing this?

  I said shut it.

  I look at Karen wanting her to speak up but she’s just looking at the floor not saying nothing – and you can see on her face that she wants it. Anything that gets h
er off is fine by her whatever happens to Blaze. I always knew she was like that – always knew she weren’t for real and now here’s the proof.

  I think we could arrange that says the mayor – his voice juiced up with how pleased he is but trying to hide it.

  Then we got a deal says Blaze reaching out to shake his hand. The mayor – his cheeks all rosy and chuffed like he just ate a big fat pie – stretches to shake but just before they do Blaze pulls his hand back.

  And there’s something else he says. Cause you’re the dick here ain’t you?

  If we have a deal you can call me whatever you like.

  I said there’s something else before we got a deal. Can’t have you walking out the hero can we? That ain’t right.

  This has nothing to do with me.

  Bullshit. You got to pay a price too. What about the hair?

  What about it?

  Off.

  I beg your pardon?

  Karen here’s a trainee beautician. She’ll do a good job.

  What are you talking about?

  All off. Shaved. That’s the deal.

  This is ludicrous.

  That’s the deal. You take the haircut you walk out of here with the hostage. Straight after. You don’t – the deal’s off.

  I’ve never heard such nonsense! I’m not doing that!

  And we got it on video.

  Pardon?

  This conversation. We got it on video.

  Blaze nods towards me. The mayor’s head spins. I turn the screen and show him that I’m recording.

  So if you don’t do it we can have this up on YouTube in a few minutes and everyone’ll know that you had a deal but you wouldn’t take it cause you didn’t want a haircut.

  That’s absurd!

  It is pretty fucked up, ain’t it?

  I’m the elected mayor of this city. If you think you can corner me with some kind of schoolboy prank like this . . . you . . . you . . .

  We what? says Blaze oh man he’s smiling now I ain’t never seen him smile so big.

  If you think I’m falling for this . . .

  Deal’s off? You don’t want it?

  I didn’t say that. I’m just saying we should negotiate like adults.

  But I ain’t an adult. I’ll give you a minute to make up your mind.

  This is like Who Wants to Be a Millionaire? says Femi almost shaking he’s finding it so funny. Ask him if he wants to phone a friend.

  He ain’t got a friend! says Lee – all squeaky and high – hopping like a kid what needs a piss.

  Blaze ignores them and eyeballs the mayor.

  What’s wrong with you? says the mayor – spitting the words out – angry now so angry it almost ain’t even funny.

  I’m ill ain’t I? says Blaze heavy sarcastic. Sick in the head. We all are.

  Well evidently that’s the case.

  That’s why we all been on them pills since we was small. Us and everybody other kid on the estate that don’t cut it at school.

  Is that what this is about? I thought the police sent in a supply.

  Burnt it. Don’t want that shit no more.

  What are you saying?

  I’m saying you got no respect for us. None of us. You want us to disappear. And since you can’t do that the next best thing is to just shut us up, ain’t it? Soften us up calm us down keep us quiet and out the way where we won’t cause trouble.

  I’ve never instituted any policy that wasn’t for the good of London as a whole. Nobody has forced anybody to take anything they didn’t choose to take.

  Paying parents to drug their kids? You think that’s OK? You been doing it for so long you can’t even see how sick it is.

  That is an utterly perverse reading of the policy.

  We ain’t ill. We’re just inconvenient.

  Mental health professionals of an extremely high standing –

  Minute’s up says Blaze – cutting him off without even raising his voice. He never needs to shout – don’t know how he just doesn’t. Decision time. You in or you out?

  The mayor stares at him – jaw slack and eyes empty – like a guy that’s just taken a punch.

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  THE HOSTAGE

  Dead or crazy. Dead or crazy. It must be one of the two and I can’t even tell which. It’s days now since I slept. I’ve grabbed snatches, but if anything the terror’s even worse in my sleep, and with the cord round my wrist I can’t get comfortable so there’s hardly any point. And they keep coming in to look at me. All of them, one after the other, just wandering in to stare or gloat or I don’t know what.

  You’d think it would be obvious when it’s day and when it’s night, because I can see the sunlight streaking in, but the night doesn’t really feel like night, I don’t know why, it all just feels like one long stretch of time with no markers, no pauses, nothing – just an endless now drifting on and on.

  I feel as if it’s late, as if it might be the middle of the night, when they drag me out. First time ever apart from toilet stops that they’ve untied me from the radiator. They’re drunk or high or something. There’s a wildness that’s new and unnerving and for a moment I think maybe it’s a dream or a hallucination because these creatures around me are talking to me, shouting at me, and I can hear the words but also not hear. I can’t make out what they’re saying to me. I can just hear music – strange, diabolical, repetitive dance music like some psychotic, wayward heartbeat – then one of them gets out a spray can and shakes it up. Even though their voices seem distant and indistinct the rattle of the ball bearing inside the can pierces through me as if it’s my own skull that is being shaken. The boy’s eyes are glassy, swimming, tiny pinpricks of savagery and threat.

  It’s when he starts painting me that I begin to doubt what I’m seeing, doubt what is happening, doubt my sanity. I get a strong sense this can’t be me – I can’t be this object being sprayed in paint. Even though the acrid smell from the aerosol is burrowing up my nostrils, needling into my lungs, I feel sure I can’t actually be in this place among those people with these events taking place. I must be somewhere else. I don’t know where, or what my connection is to the body in the warehouse; I just know that the humiliated, graffitied, human-shaped object in the middle of this warehouse, surrounded by crazed, bloodthirsty yobs, can’t be me.

  Though at the same time I know it is.

  And isn’t.

  So the only explanation is that I’m losing my mind or have lost my mind or my mind has lost me.

  More cans. Rattle shake rattle shake fshhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhh. On my legs my chest my arms and hair. Fssshhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhh! Like a steam train cooling at the end of a journey. Like being erased.

  It can’t be me. That cannot be my body white and yellow and red and black – and then they’re even closer all around me and the music’s even louder now – not even music – just a brutal tooth-rattling beat – and I realise the girl is telling me to dance. Poking me. Kicking me. Her face is young and pure and beautiful and also wizened and demonic and hideous. Her voice is saying DANCE! DANCE! DANCE, YOU PRICK!

  I don’t hear the words, I see them. Metal spirals coming out of her mouth. Just hatred and savagery and scorn, molten, forged into coils that fly towards me through the air – darts too strange and twisted to fly, but they do – out of her mouth and into me
– snipping the veins, the muscles, the nerves and tendons – unravelling the knots that hold me in one piece – because I know then that I am falling and maybe dissolving. I cannot stand and I cannot think and I cannot speak so I must be asleep or crazy or dead and these creatures taunting me cannot be there. Perhaps I’m free already. Perhaps I am in a hospital bed somewhere. Perhaps I am dead or half dead or dying.

  But then they’ve gone and I’m tied to the radiator again and I think I’m awake so I suppose I’ve just woken up but there’s still the smell – that sweet ammoniac smell – and my arms crackle when I move and – yes – I’ve been painted. I have been painted.

  So perhaps I haven’t woken up at all because next thing the mayor’s in there so I just laugh at him because it’s so stupid and he asks me if I’m OK, and I just say yeah I’m fine I’m having the time of my life because I mean what’s the point in even taking this conversation seriously when it can’t possibly be happening, though there’s something in the shock and horror on his face that looks a bit too real. But too real for what? I don’t even care any more. I’m so tired.

  He goes. I think he does. Then he comes back. At least, a version of him comes back. And that’s when I know for sure that I’ve cracked. The sight of him. I don’t know whether to scream or laugh.

  attention all Xxxxx students: I will be selling Ritalin in school tomorrow. I’ll be the kid in a green polo and khaki shorts

  Twitter user

  KAREN

  So mental? Like, beyond mental? Like, I don’t have the words? To describe it? And when the mayor says yes I’m like oh, shit, and like but I don’t have no scissors! Then Blaze says there’s a pair in the drawer of the desk in the office where we been boning, and I don’t know how he knows, but there’s no point in asking yourself that when it’s Blaze, cause he knows stuff, he just does, and it’s not worth even trying to figure out how.

  I’m just like too weirded out by the whole thing? To get the scissors? I’m flipping out but then Matchstick’s standing there right next to me with that freaky look on his face, and he’s holding out the scissors?