The Young Team

by Graeme Armstrong

  ‘FUCKIN YOUNG TEEEAM!’ Big Kenzie roars at them aw. There’s pupils, teachers n janitors everywhere n right in the middle, two black polis uniforms right on tap ae us in the Smokers’ Corner. ‘FUCK!’ Big Kenzie shouts n sprints. We’re aw dashin up towards the back gates. Broonie, who isnae a natural track n field man, looks like he’s goin tae take an asthma attack. That cunt spent PE lessons smokin fags in the toilets. A’m fucked anaw but there’s nae chance A’m gittin caught tae face the music maself. The two polis ir sprintin after us, determined tae catch at least a token suspect. Big Kenzie launches his baseball bat over the perimeter fence intae a back garden tae dispose ae the evidence. The open gate n freedom is in sight. A polis meat wagon screams up tae the entrance, blues n twos on, n four ae them jump oot it n start runnin doon the path, blockin our exit.

  ‘FUCKIN OVER THE FENCE, TROOPS!’ Big Kenzie shouts, givin us a footy up n over on his cupped hands. A follow his example n dae the same fur Broonie n Addison. Polis ir comin fae both sides as A pull maself over the fence n hide ma face wae ma tracky tap. ‘There’s nae point runnin, wee man!’ the polis is shoutin as A bounce the fence. A don’t stop tae chat. We’re aff runnin through the Catholic cemetery n towards the woods n golf course. Big Kenzie’s buzzin oot his nut, shoutin tae aw us fae the front ae the pack. ‘Keep those knees high, boys,’ joggin like he’s no even puffed oot.

  We reach the beginnin ae the woods n we’re aw fucked. We’ve made it right intae the trees n under the darker canopy. Danny’s handin fags oot ae a Mayfair packet. None ae us kin even smoke them, but we light them anyway. Wan ae the wee team in first year texts us, Wee Lucas Toffey.

  Teachers ir gawn mad here, polis aw over eh school n ther headin up eh golfy

  We’re aff again. A kin hear sirens in the distance. There’s fear among us, but the adrenaline is still flowin. Once we git across the golfy intae our ain woods, we’re safe. They’d never follow us that far n even if they did they wouldn’t catch us in our own area. As fur ever goin back intae school, we’re aw fucked.

  We reach the wee burn n jump over it. Aw our uniforms ir boggin n we’re lookin worse fur wear fae runnin cross-country in the wet, wintery woods. Most ae us play fitbaw but we’ve ran at least two miles, clamberin around steep embankments and jumpin burns. We reach the eld conker tree n stop tae catch our breaths. Yi feel safer as the familiar fields, paths n trees welcome yi back tae home territory.

  ‘Look it yees, ya puffed oot wee cunts! Never been up the school causin a riot before? Fuck sakes!’ Naebody answers but we aw laugh. We’re aw buzzin n finally catch our breaths n light more fags up. Everybody sits doon on a fallen tree n seems tae slow doon. We’re aw soakin n filthy noo fae jungle trekkin. Danny sums up aw our fears n realisations.

  ‘Thank fuck A don’t go tae your school,’ he says under a smile n a Mayfair. Finnegan n both Kenzies laugh n nod. Broonie is smilin like fuck but Addison is lookin mad para. ‘Fuck it,’ they say in unison.

  ‘They’re never gonnae forget yooz, boys, yooz huv just went doon in history. The maddest, fuckin baddest younger wans there ever wis,’ Big Kenzie says wae his arms roon me n Broonie.

  ‘Did yi see that cunt Owen’s fuckin face?’ Danny says.

  ‘Don’t hit me, Kenzie, big man … phffft, nappy full.’

  ‘Fuckin gimps, man.’

  ‘Imagine that Si hinkin he’s mental. He got whacked n shat it. Fuckin miniature heroes, every wan ae they Toi wans. You wee cunts ir well madder. Proud ae it, man.’

  We aw laugh.

  ‘Wit’s this “no surrender” patter, ya wee fuckin Orange bastard?’ Big Kenzie says wae a grin n rubs Broonie’s wee baldy heed.

  The polis huv been up the village hopin tae catch us oot n aboot. We aw sneak oot ae the woods wae our hoods up n keep our heeds doon. The troops huv assembled doon the bottom park n ir aw waitin fur us. It’s after lunchtime n there’s nae doubt that at least me, Broonie n Addison ir caught. Ma maw hud been textin rapid n Addison’s maw hud been phonin him aw day. He’s turned aff his mobile tae avoid it. Ma maw’s still textin me but A’m just patchin it. If A reply she’ll open the floodgates. Fuck it, if yir goin oot, then yi go oot in style. We hud been bold aw the way n there’s nae point stoppin noo.

  We’re walkin doon the back way. There’s only a granny walkin wae a wean in a pram n a taxi pickin another eld woman up. Everybody else hus dogged it or git oot their beds tae come n see us. A’m hopin fur a quiet afternoon after the drama, a few joints tae take the edge aff. Chill us aw oot n git a wee laugh before takin the roastin that’s comin the night n the next day. Yi irnae even allowed back on school property before yir readmitted formally. We’re suspended fur sure. Danny’s mate fae their school hud text anaw.

  Donaldsons been in lookin fur yi mate.

  Everywans talkin aboot eh scrappin up eh proddy school

  It’s official. Danny, Finnegan n Wee Kenzie ir fucked, same as us. Our head teacher, Mr McGiver, is quite friendly wae their headmistress, Ms Donaldson. Yi wid see hur marchin aboot our school the odd time. She hus that look tae hur, quick-freeze hell material. McGiver is a big scary bastard, ex-rugby coach. Yi hud tae be brave tae take the big man on. He taught geography as a young man A git telt. His face is like a terrain map ae varicose veins fae the smokin n shoutin at wee boys fur a livin. He knows a thing or two aboot volcanoes n often re-enacts an eruption in his office as you stand like a wee malaria mosquito ready tae git squished under his massive mountain-building paws. Both Kenzie brothers hud endured the wrath ae Donaldson before. She’s a tight-mouthed bitch wae black poker-straight hair, even though she’s in her fifties. Both ae them ir formidable enemies but A wid stick wae the mighty lion any day as opposed tae the arctic fox. That’s wit we huv in store fur us the-morra. They wid be on the war path themselves. Donaldson playin Miss Marple n the big man playin Columbo.

  Trials and Retribution

  The meetin is ten o’clock sharp. This gees the usual rabble time tae git chased tae their classes. Ma maw geed me both barrels last night. A went in stoned oot ma heed, just tae numb the fuckin inevitable roastin A wis gonnae git. It hud worked, after a fashion. She wore hurself oot n A skulked tae bed wae nae proverbial supper. It hud been a long day doggin it yesterday but the day is gonnae be longer. We’re in the ‘bad boy seats’ outside the headmaster’s office. Me n ma maw, Addison n his maw n Wee Broonie n his da ir aw sittin here. Ma maw’s got tae head straight tae work after, so she’s git on a plain white blouse n black trousers. Addison’s maw hus a grey power skirt-suit on. Broonie’s da looks like he’s been up aw night n no wae worry. He’s git on an eld HEAD jumper n worky jeans even though he’s on the bru. Me n Addison’s git our tie n blazer on n Broonie’s awready git a tracky on in anticipation ae the inevitable suspension that’s comin our way. There’s big blue partition screens roon these wee reception seats tae hide yi fae the rest ae the school population. Wee guys n burds ir glancin through and whisperin as they walk tae second period cos we’re famous as fuck noo. The din fades n they aw disappear.

  McGiver’s roarin at somebody on the other side ae the door. Broonie n his da ir tryin tae hold back a smile. A wid let one creep roon ma face if ma maw wisnae glarin at me. Liz Addison doesnae look one bit impressed. Hur businesslike persona seems intact n she seems, at most, inconvenienced by the whole affair. Ma maw looks at hur wits’ end. A think she’s been kept up worryin aboot the meetin n probably me in general. A come fae a good home yit A’m bad. Wit more kin she dae? It’s no that she’s a bad maw, A’m a bad son. Course they’re gonnae judge her n that’s ma fault. A feel bad aboot that at moments like these, a slight whip ae guilt penetratin the dark n heavy clouds ae don’t gee a fuck.

  The door swings open n aw ae our heads turn tae look. A wee tiny boy walks oot, no even the height ae the plants which stand in pots around this wee tropical jungle. He’s walkin wae his tail between his legs. McGiver’s face starts tae fade fae shades ae beetroot. He straightens his suit jacket n tie and it’s aw business.


  ‘Good morning, Mrs Addison, Mrs Williams and Mr Brown. Hello, boys. Please follow me.’ We aw follow him intae his office. It’s a huge room, massive high ceilings n there’s a big solid relic ae a desk. There’s three comfortable chairs n three plastic wans been sat oot in anticipation ae our arrival. Broonie goes tae bounce on wan ae the comfy wans n the big chief points tae the wee plasticky numbers n almost smiles under that famous moustache. The big man seems cool n calm the day, cos rest assured if our parents wurnae here we’d be on the receivin end ae the fog horn. His calm is almost unsettlin, the big cunt. ‘So, let’s do things a wee bit differently today. Boys, would you care to start at the beginning? Or shall I give my account of events.’

  ‘Well? The headmaster is waiting, Paul. And I’ve not got all morning.’

  ‘You too, Alan.’

  ‘Aye, Shaun, witever they says.’

  We aw look at wan another. It’s no in us. Tellin a teacher, even wan being sound, is still grassin. We cannae afford tae dae that, lest yi be labelled a grass fae then on n rightly terrorised. Rather than take our opportunity tae come clean n make it easier fur ourselves, we sit silently n wait fur the torrent but it doesnae come n McGiver talks quietly.

  ‘I see. Honour amongst thieves then. You think your friends in the Young Toi were reluctant to talk when they were “grassing” you in?’

  We aw share a glance.

  ‘Do you boys think this is a new issue? Do you think you’re the first to fight in the school, the Young Team versus the Young Toi? I think not.’

  None ae us know wit tae say. Even A’m surprised n Big McGiver knows it. Broonie’s da looks a wee bitty amused anaw. Aw seen n done before, part ae the tradition ae young men passin through these schemes n schools. Our maws look horrified. They’ve just clicked on he’s talkin aboot gangs.

  ‘This flares up every few years. The village and the first area in town have been fighting for a generation – angry young men warring with each other, over postcodes. At this age, we see episodes like yesterday. Which leads me back to my first question. You are being given an opportunity to explain your actions, before I sum them up for your mothers and father. My explanation, I’m sure, will differ from yours.’

  McGiver glances at me. He gees me this look like it’s up to me tae spill the fuckin beans. He knows Addison is a mouse n he knows Broonie doesnae gee a fuck. The buck’s landed at ma door. It seems only fair cos it wis aw inspired by me anyway. A’ve git a sneakin suspicion that he knows that anaw. Big McGiver always knew. ‘It wis cos ae me,’ A say quietly.

  ‘Ahh, Mr Williams, you’ve seen sense. Please continue.’

  ‘They set aboot me, done us right in, n that wis payback.’

  ‘I see … so this was your bad flu?’ he says, glancin towards ma maw. She shifts uncomfortably. ‘This is why the school needs to know about things which happen outside. This could have been prevented.’

  ‘It’s no ma maw’s fault A smashed them.’

  ‘Indeed not, Alan … but this could have been dealt with differently. So, you were attacked?’

  ‘A gang of them jumped him walking a girl home, Mr McGiver. It’s an absolute disgrace. Kicking him on the ground. Never would have happened in our day.’

  ‘Mrs Williams, I agree. Alan is a big boy, an easy target for groups like this. However, his gang affiliations are the reason for his attack, I am sure.’

  ‘They’re hardly a gang, it’s the boys he’s grown up with. For God’s sake, I used to take them to playgroup together.’

  ‘Forgive me, Mrs Williams, but these are angry young men, bound together under a gang identity and who are fiercely opposed to each other. As well as being the victims of violence, they are the perpetrators of similar violence. I am willing to bet that there was a catalyst for Alan’s attack. Is it wrong to assume that someone else has had their toes stepped on?’

  ‘Well, Paul, is this true? You stupid boy!’

  ‘Aye, mum.’

  ‘It’s yes.’

  ‘OK, Mrs Addison. We’re making progress here. So, you hit them, they catch Alan and give him a proper hiding. Then in retaliation – this leads to the events of yesterday.’

  ‘What happened exactly, Mr McGiver? I couldn’t get a straight answer out of Alan.’

  ‘Well, Mrs Williams, let me summarise. The Young Team – Alan, Paul and Shaun from our school, the McKenzie brothers, Mr Stevenson and a Mr Finnegan – organised themselves and besieged the school. They entered armed with a baseball bat, and attacked six other boys, who call themselves the Young Toi, to their injury. Two boys were taken away in ambulances, a member of staff was assaulted and a local resident phoned Strathclyde Police, who attended in number. The boys managed to evade capture and here we are. I’ve got six of my pupils and a teacher with varying injuries and the authority breathing down my neck – not to mention making the local paper.’

  Nobody’s smilin noo. Ma mum’s dabbin at tears wae a tissue n even Addison’s maw looks a bit upset. She’s lookin at hur son wae new eyes. Hur facts n figures cannae add up tae explain this wan. She’s provided a nice hoose, pocket money n the best ae gear but nuhin more. Ma maw’s devastated, A kin tell. She takes these things personally, as if she’s failed somehow, n she’s that bitter cocktail ae angry n disappointed. Even Broonie’s da is shakin his heed – he knows we’ve gone too far this time. Stevie Broon speaks fur the first time. ‘Yi dinnae bring bloody weapons tae school! That’s whit yur fists ir fur!’

  Liz Addison tuts loudly.

  ‘Mr Brown is right, to an extent. Fist-fighting is another matter and one which we can deal with in-house. I am afraid the police are pursuing charges. But, I have intervened and made some calls. My counterpart, Ms Donaldson, and I have assured officers that there will be substantial punishments for both sets of boys. She will be pursuing her own line of enquiry, so your friends will be having a similar chat. Mr McKenzie senior will not be so lucky. As he is past sixteen, the police are offering no such leniency. He is beyond my reach.’

  ‘The boys aren’t being charged?’ Addison’s maw asks, horrified at the thought.

  ‘No, not this time, but consider yourselves very lucky, because there were some who wanted you to go for this.’

  ‘Wanted them to go?’

  ‘As in permanent expulsion, Mrs Williams. This was a particularly serious matter. A teacher was assaulted, seven people injured and a hell of a lot of scared kids in the process. I was inundated with calls from parents preaching fire and brimstone at me about the safety of their children. I have gone out on a limb for your boys … and it is not free of charge.’

  ‘What do you mean?’ Mum asks.

  ‘I mean there will be conditions attached to your readmittance to this school, boys.’

  ‘Oh anything, Mr McGiver,’ Addison’s tearful mum retorts.

  ‘You will all be suspended for twenty days, the maximum available to me. This is necessary to demonstrate the severity of this matter to the rest of my pupils. It is also the only way I can keep a lid on those who would have you all expelled and in front of the education authority looking for a new school. However, I am fully aware of the consequences of extending the boys’ Christmas break by a month. Not only will this put immense pressure on yourselves and other family members, but it will leave them open to the other consequences of these actions – and for that I apologise unreservedly.’

  ‘Other consequences? What do you mean?’

  Broonie’s da is shakin his heed. ‘They’re aw gonnae be lookin fur them. God’s sake, Liz. Use yir heed, wuman!’

  She just doesnae get it. This world is alien tae hur n she’s nae concept ae gang violence or retribution.

  ‘But who is?’

  ‘Every other young team in the town. Folk wull be huntin fur them. Yees ir gonnae huv tae be careful, boays. Keep yir heeds doon fur a while.’

  ‘Unfortunately, Mr Brown is absolutely correct. In my experience of gang violence, such actions are widely whispered about and there will be revenge fo
r this stunt.’

  ‘Oh my God!’

  ‘So, back to my request. I’m willing to settle at twenty days’ suspension if the boys are willing to come to an arrangement with me.’

  ‘They’ll do anything,’ Liz Addison shoots.

  ‘What is it?’ ma maw asks.

  ‘I want to arrange a meeting with the other gang, the Young Toi, within school. This is a new restorative method they’ve tried in Glasgow, which started in Boston in the US. We bring them together in a secure environment, with teachers and our community police officers, for a one-day gang workshop. They talk and shake hands – that’s it. Perhaps a game of football on the ash park afterwards.

  ‘The second part of this treaty is that the boys promise to endeavour to stay out of harm’s way during the holidays. I realise this suspension could not have come at a worse time, but there is no suitable alternative. Does this sound acceptable?’

  ‘That’s very decent of you, Mr McGiver.’

  ‘Of course, Paul will do anything you ask.’

  ‘N so wull Shaun.’

  That wis McGiver’s bright idea. Aw respect tae the big man, he tried his best. We sit n wait on the Friday morning. The three ae us huv been sent up in our smartest uniforms, polished shoes, ties the proper length n tight roon our necks instead ae stuffed in a blazer pocket. McGiver hus gone tae some trouble fur the occasion. He’s set plastic chairs oot in a circle wae a table ae snacks in the middle. There’s plastic cups wae fizzy ginger n sandwiches oot the canteen. The nuts n crisps must huv been his own doing. He’s put two whiteboards wae pens in the holders at each side n stuck up aw the posters aboot gangs, knives n bullyin he could find, like an alternative wallpaper. They hud slogans like ‘Bin a Knife, Save a Life’ n aw sorts ae other stuff. There’s wan ae a boy wae stab wounds in surgery n it makes us shudder tae look at it.