Wee Danny

by Gerard Brennan

  "When they laugh with me, I'm the funny fucker, right? That makes me feel good. When they laugh at me, I kick the fuck out of them. That makes me feel good too."

  Conan's eyes get big and he claps a meaty hand across his lips.

  "You okay, mate?"

  He nods and breathes heavily through his nose. I replay what I've just said, try to figure out what got to him.

  "Do you not like it when people curse around you?"

  The barbarian shrugs.

  "What's with the face, then?" I point at his widened and now watering eyes. "Why do you look so … so …" I pull from my GCSE English vocabulary, "indignant?"

  Conan takes the hand from his mouth and rubs at one of his eyes for so long I'm worried it might pop.

  He takes a deep breath. "You're funny. I nearly laughed at you, there."

  I look this kid up and down. Paint him green and he'd pass for the Incredible Hulk's wee brother. "So why didn't you?"

  "I thought you might kick the fuck out of me."

  Psycho

  I wish they'd get one of them couches in this room. The kind you see on TV when some hot, blonde American chick is spilling her guts to the psychiatrist or psychologist or therapist or whatever. I'm still not sure what the difference is with all those shades of shrink. Mine's an educational psychologist, I know that much at least. He tells me to call him Alan. If I had it my way I wouldn't call the fucker at all.

  "Anything strange or startling, Danny?"

  I shift on the shitty plastic school chair. These things are a nightmare when it gets hot. Sweat just streams down your sheugh, like. But it's mild enough today and I'm in good form. I decide to go easy on Alan, the ball-bag.

  "There's not much in the way of strange and startling around here, mo chara." I'm pretty sure Alan's a protestant so I tend to slip in wee Irish words here and there when we talk, make sure he's constantly aware I'm from the other side of the fence. Nothing fancy – I failed the fuck out of Irish at Corpus Christi – just stuff like mo chara, slainté and slan (my friend, cheers and bye). "It's the same shit … stuff, I mean. Different colours."

  Alan nods and flicks through a file. I notice he's got a nice chair. A spinny one with wheels and a cushion.

  "I can see you've been behaving yourself, lately."

  "Aye, that's probably why I'm bored."

  Alan frowns at me.

  "That was just a wee joke."

  "Right." He flicks a few more pages. "It's not written down here but I thought I'd heard something about a recent scuffle?"

  "Me? Fighting? You shouldn't believe everything you hear."

  "Well, since it's not written down, I have to assume that you weren't to blame in the situation."

  There's a good wee saying about the word, 'assume'. But I've used it on Alan before and I decide to leave it.

  "And if you weren't to blame, Danny, that's great." He looks at me like he knows I was to blame. "Because there's something coming along that you might be interested in."

  I flick my chin up. Go on, then.

  "I've been in touch with a few contacts in the National Trust. We've put our heads together and come up with a constructive scheme that'll benefit everybody involved. And I'd like to get you involved."

  "So what's the scheme?"

  "It's a kind of community service. You ever been to Castle Ward?"

  I shake my head.

  "It's out by Strangford, in County Down."

  "Is that near Newcastle?"

  My brother Paul took me to Newcastle one time when he first got a car. It's a cracking wee town with a beach and some decent parks. Spent a tenner in the amusements and got some great ice cream down there. Always wanted to go again and win that tenner back.

  "No, Strangford isn't a stone's throw from Newcastle or anything, but I suppose it's the same neck of the woods."

  I push out my lower lip and huff a bit of air. Try to get the message across that I'm getting bored now. "So what about this castle, or whatever?"

  "Castle Ward. It's a great spot. Lovely big grounds, a sunken garden, tours of the mansion."

  It sounds like a load of shite.

  "So Castle Ward isn't actually a castle? It's just a big house?"

  "It's a little more than a big house."

  "Yeah, but you can see houses anywhere. What's so special about this one?"

  I instantly regret the question. Alan slabbers on about mixed architecture and aristocrats or architecture and mixed aristocrats and I tune out for a bit. I think about slot machines and mint ice cream to pass the time. Alan taps the table like he always does when he wants to say something he thinks is important. I tune back in.

  "Oh, and if you're interested in castles, there's Aubrey's Castle too. It's on the grounds overlooking the Lough. Very interesting story behind that."

  I'm sick of all the chatter.

  "Yeah, great. But instead of the history lesson, could you just tell me what the scheme is?"

  Alan's shoulders sag slightly. He's good at acting patient, though. I'd like to play a hand of poker with him some time. It's a sure thing I'd clean him out, but I imagine it'd be a bit of a challenge at least.

  "Basically," Alan says, "Castle Ward has a few rough edges. If you keep your nose clean for another few weeks, you could be part of a team of young people who'll be tasked to help out with reparations on the grounds."

  "Like fixing stuff?"

  "Yes."

  "Outside?"

  "That's right."

  "For a whole day, like?"

  "Three days, Danny."

  I put aside the wee remarks about child labour and the like and give Alan one of my best smiles. The one I usually save for Miss.

  "Sign me up, mo chara. Slainté and slan."

  Take a Chill Pill

  My head's still spinning with the thought of this trip to Castle Ward. So it's not Newcastle. It's some aul fancy house in the middle of nowhere. Fine. The important thing is I'll be outside. Not the kind of outside like we get here for Unit Activities, with marked out boundaries, cameras and supervisors checking our every move. Proper outside where a wee doggie might trot up to me for a bit of attention. A place where the bastards can't control every single thing about me.

  There's a chance I'll even be able to get a fag off somebody. It'll taste like shit, no doubt, but I want to find out for sure myself. All the substance abuse crap that gets drilled into us, it just reminds me of the fun I'm missing out on.

  I head for the living room. There'll be nothing good on the TV but I want to sit in a comfy seat after spending so long in that crappy plastic one chatting to Alan. Maybe even get a little time to myself since most of the others will be in the rec room or the sports hall until The Simpsons comes on.

  But no. There's somebody here. I recognise Adrian's slumped shoulders before I realise the guy with him is Conan. The barbarian has his head on the arm of one of the sofas. I can't see his face from this angle but he looks as if he could be asleep. Adrian stands in front of him and roots about in the front pocket of his jeans.

  "It's in here somewhere," Adrian says.

  The speccy bastard hasn't noticed me yet. I'm just inside the open doorway, quiet as a mouse. Maybe he'll slip up and say or do something I can use against him.

  Conan shifts a little on the sofa. He's not sleeping then, just trying to chill out. So what's Adrian's game?

  "Ah, got it." Adrian pulls his hand out of his pocket and presents something to Conan. "This'll sort you out, big lad."

  "I'll be fine." Conan's usual monotone wavers. "It'll pass."

  "But what's the point in suffering? This wee tablet will take all the pain away. Best headache cure in the world."

  "What is it?"

  "Unicorn dust sprinkled with fairy piss. What do you care? Just take the fucking thing."

  "I don't trust you."

  "Ah, Conan, don't hurt my feelings. We're meant to be pals now. That whole thing from the other day is just water under the bridge."

 
Conan sits up and looks into Adrian's hand. "It looks dirty. Why's it not in a box?"

  "It's not the kind of pill you get from the chemist. It's better."

  "I usually take two white ones for my headaches. And one pink one later on. But only when they're real bad. This one's not so bad."

  "You can have two of these pills if you like, but I'd have to charge you for the second one. First one's free."

  Conan reaches out and takes what Adrian's offering. It's time for me to do something.

  "Just hold on to that for a wee second, mate."

  Adrian's head snaps up and he fixes me with a furious glare. He knows he's rumbled. The speccy sneak grabs for Conan's wrist.

  "Hold on to it, Conan. I want a wee look."

  Adrian may as well be wrestling with a thick tree branch. Conan's arm is unmovable. But I move fast, unwilling to miss my chance of figuring out what this weird exchange is all about. I'm right beside them in a blink.

  "Open your hand, Conan."

  His thick fingers spring open on command. The big guy obviously trusts me. Adrian makes a snatch for the little white pill on Conan's palm, but I'm much quicker. I pinch it between my forefinger and thumb and skip backwards out of Adrian's reach. It only takes a second to confirm my suspicion. The pill has three little diamonds stamped into it, arranged in a triangle.

  "A fucking Mitsubishi? How the hell did you get an E-tab in here?"

  "Give me that back, you midgety wee bastard."

  "Don't get nasty. Just tell me where you got it."

  "Fuck yourself."

  "All right. I guess I'll just hand it in to one of the supervisors …" I turn towards the door. Don't even get one foot in front of the other before Adrian starts to panic.

  "Danny, Danny. Here, Danny. Don't be at it, all right? I've already had an Adverse Report this week. Something like this is going to earn me more than a privilege drop. They'll charge me with possession."

  "But if they find out I didn't report it I'll be in the shit too, Ady."

  He doesn't even complain when I don't use his full name. I've got him by the short and curlies.

  "We'll figure something out," Adrian says. "Why don't you keep it?"

  "So you can tout on me? Fuck that. I'm flushing this as soon as I can."

  "I'm no tout."

  Adrian's a good liar, I'll give him that. But he's got squealer written all over him. He's exactly the type of kid they target in here for info. A soft guy that acts tough. The scumbags running this hole might call it an 'anti-bullying initiative' or 'crisis intervention' but it's just backroom bullshit. Another means to divide and conquer. If they ever had the balls to ask me to snitch I'd spit in their faces, fuck the consequences.

  "It's a bit of a stalemate, this, isn't it?"

  Adrian knots his eyebrows together.

  "Like neither of us can win in this situation."

  "So, how do we sort it, Danny?"

  "First, tell me how you got the pill in here. If there's a weakness somewhere, I want to know about it."

  "What for?"

  "Never you mind. But I'll straight out tell you that I'm not interested in drugs, so if you're dealing and worried about me nicking customers, relax."

  Adrian starts to get twitchy. His eyes dart between me and the door. I know he's worried that a supervisor is going to show up and really complicate things here. Starting to feel a bit sweaty about the prospect myself, but I have to play this cool. Maintain control. The wanker is going beyond annoying and I need to pull him into line.

  Adrian growls with frustration. "Fine. Fuck's sake. I've a connection that helps me out. One of the canteen workers. He's mates with my older brother and he'll take a risk for me the odd time. He'll not do anything for anybody else, though."

  "Aye, somebody might give him up." I knew this speccy prick was a born tout.

  "So, are we cool?"

  I turn to Conan who's been looking on and letting this play out in silence. He shrugs at me, passes the buck.

  "So long as you leave Conan alone, we're fine and dandy."

  "Deal." Adrian pushes his glasses up his sweat-slicked nose. "And what about the pill?"

  "We have to get rid of it. You going to flush it or will I?"

  "Pass it here."

  I want it out of my hands ASAP so I'm only too happy to comply. It goes straight into Adrian's mouth.

  "Fucking hell, Ady. Are you right in the head?"

  "I'm not letting it go to waste."

  I shake my head and beckon for Conan to follow me out the door.

  Maybe Adrian has more balls than I gave him credit for.

  The Promise of Freedom

  "Why do you feel the need to talk on Conan's behalf, Danny?"

  And yet again Alan takes something I thought was positive and pisses on it. Why can't he let me be nice to the barbarian and leave it at that? There's a lack of trust at the heart of this matter.

  "I'm not talking on his behalf, mo chara. Just thought I'd ask if he'd have a chance at getting on the scheme too."

  "Don't get defensive, Danny. This isn't a criti—"

  "Who's getting defensive?"

  "This isn't a criticism, Danny. If anything, it's progress. You're identifying with others less … you know? It's very positive."

  "Less what?"

  Alan clears his throat and shifts on his comfy chair. "That's not important. I'm praising you here."

  "Oh. Right. Thanks?"

  I feel really uncomfortable. Like maybe he'd kiss me if I let him get close. I nearly want to see him try, though. Jail or not, I'd kick his teeth in.

  "But you'll understand that I can't discuss another case with you, right? You wouldn't want me talking about you to somebody else, would you?"

  "Conan's a mate, though. He won't mind."

  A couple of seconds pass, but I can tell by the look on Alan's face that he doesn't want to talk about it.

  "Well, if I ask Conan to ask you about it, does that go against any rules?"

  "I … I suppose not."

  "Right, I'll do that, then."

  "Just be careful not to boss him about. He can be a little unpredictable, right?"

  I shrug, not convinced that he is all that unpredictable. He's a quiet lad who loses his temper from time to time. I've met tonnes of kids like that.

  Alan checks his watch. "We're almost done here. You want to knock off early?"

  I'm almost tempted to say no, I want the full allotment, just to be contrary. He's as likely to enjoy those ten minutes as me. Probably more so. But I take a breath and decide the wind-up's not worth it. I've a few thoughts in my head and maybe a slow walk to the TV room will help.

  But when I get to shouting distance of the TV room I realise I don't really want to be there. I can't be arsed with exercise so there's no point asking permission to use the fitness suite or the sports hall. Times like this are what cigarettes are made for. At least my mind would be occupied trying to find a blind-spot where I could enjoy a sneaky one.

  "You look lost, Danny."

  It's Miss. She's wearing a cream-coloured long coat and has a brown handbag slung over one shoulder, her day's work done.

  "Oh, hey." I scrabble for something cool to say. "I'm … looking for Conan." Real smooth.

  She jerks her head backwards. "He's in the classroom. I've just left him."

  They wouldn't have. Would they?

  "What, eh …" I can't ask if they were up to something, can I? "Is he in trouble?"

  "No, no. He just needs a little extra help with his coursework because of his … you know?"

  Fucking déjà vu.

  "Actually, Miss. I don't know. What's the crack with all the meaningful pauses today?"

  Now she looks as confused as me.

  "You're not the first one to trail off when talking about Conan today. Is he dying or something?"

  She snorts and I feel about an inch tall. I want to storm off but she freezes me on the spot by laying a hand on my shoulder. Suddenly I can smell
her perfume. It's nice.

  "Conan's not dying. And sorry for dancing around it, God knows we should all be more open about this sort of thing."

  She shakes her head and puffs out a breath. I can smell mint with a slight tinge of fag smoke. How much trouble would I get in if I just kissed her here and now?

  "Danny. Conan has special needs."

  An image of Conan, strong as a bull with a handful of Adrian's T-shirt, flashes in the back of my mind. I try to filter some of the smart-arse out of my response. "He looks fine to me."

  "They aren't physical needs, Danny."

  "So he's a bit slow?"

  Her lips pinch up and she takes her hand off my shoulder.

  "I don't mean that in a bad way, like. I mean, he's quiet and all so it's hard to tell how smart or whatever he is. But it's not like I'd call him slow to his face or nothing. He's a mate, or as close as you'd get to a mate in here. Honest, Miss. I didn't mean anything …"

  She holds up her hand and I want it to land back on my shoulder, but she's just trying to shush me up. That moment has passed. But it's locked in my memory banks for later. When I'm unwatched and alone.

  "Okay, I get it, Danny. But try to think before you speak. If he is a friend, a remark like that could hurt him, whatever way you mean it."

  From what I've seen of the barbarian I doubt there's much could hurt him, but I don't argue the point.

  "Sorry, Miss."

  "Thank you. We suspect that Conan is on the autistic spectrum."

  "Nah, Miss. I've an autistic nephew. He's nothing like Conan. The wee child makes all weird noises and cries for no reason and stuff like that. Conan barely talks. Couldn't be the same thing."

  "Sometimes I'm not sure when you're joking, Danny."

  "Well, if you're laughing, I'm joking. How's that for an indicator?"

  She smiles at me and I feel like I've won a score on the fruit machines.

  "Just do me a favour, Danny. Don't treat him any different now that you know this."

  "I'm not sure what I know, for God's sake. How'm I going to treat him different?"

  Miss checks her watch then switches her handbag from her left shoulder to her right. "It's time I was out of here, Danny. Do me a favour. Next time you're at the computer, look up autism. It's a complicated thing but you might understand your friend a bit better if you do a wee bit of research. Concentrate on symptoms from the mild end of the spectrum, okay?"