Concentr8

by William Sutcliffe

  It’s not safe to ignore them when they come in, but it’s best to keep them away, so my strategy now is to bore them – to do as little as possible. The only one I talk to is the one who brings me food. I’ve given up on trying to hatch any kind of plan with him, but it seems like a good idea to keep him on side – to make sure there is one other person in the building who recognises that I’m a human being.

  At least I think I’ve given up, until he goes into a crouch, sits closer to me than he has ever sat, and whispers, ‘I thought you said we could help each other.’

  I’ve never felt so tired in my life. Never experienced such heaviness in my limbs and head. I feel semi-detached from my own thoughts, now, as if the signals sent from my brain have become sluggish and dull. But for the first time in days, the sound of these words jolts me, wakes me up.

  ‘Of course we can,’ I say. ‘If you can get me out of here, it changes everything for you.’

  ‘That ain’t what I’m talking about,’ he says.

  ‘What, then?’

  He goes still. A lost look creeps across his face. He’s at that strange age: part adult, part child. At this moment, he looks like a child.

  ‘I’m looking after you, ain’t I?’ he says.

  He’s treading water. Building up to something.

  ‘Barely. I’ve stayed in better hotels,’ I say. He lets out a snort that’s halfway to a laugh. If he wants to slow down, that’s fine. I need to show him he has all the time he needs. If he wants to chat, we can chat. I just need to keep him talking, keep him relaxed, let him say his piece when he’s ready.

  ‘I ain’t never stayed in a hotel in my life so maybe you’re lucky.’

  ‘Right now, lucky isn’t what I feel.’

  ‘What’s it like?’ he says. ‘In a hotel?’

  I try not to show my surprise at his bizarre question. I can’t understand why he’s asking something so banal, but I need to keep the conversation flowing – though I’m so taken aback and foggy-headed, I can’t think of an answer.

  ‘The rooms?’ he persists. ‘What’s in the rooms what do you get? Is it like all luxy? Cause people pays tons don’t they – what’s in there that’s so good?’

  I’m baffled, now, wondering if he’s making fun of me in some way I can’t quite understand. But then, so what if he is? I can’t risk showing any scorn or disrespect.

  ‘Well, it depends on the hotel,’ I reply, cautiously.

  ‘A posh one.’

  ‘Well, even in a really posh one –’

  ‘How much?’

  ‘What?’

  ‘How much is a really posh one? The poshest one.’

  ‘I don’t know. A top hotel in the middle of London? I don’t know. Three four hundred a night.’

  ‘FOUR HUNDRED?’

  ‘Or more for a fancy suite or something.’

  ‘MORE? What’s in there what’s in there?’

  ‘Well, I’ve never been in a really fancy one but I suppose it’s still just a bed, a TV, nice chairs, room service.’

  ‘Where they bring you shit?’

  ‘Yes.’ This is the closest I’ve come to smiling for days, but I force the muscles of my face into neutral.

  ‘Anything? You just pick up the phone they bring you anything?’

  ‘Within reason. You have to pay for it.’

  ‘How much?’

  ‘It depends what you ask for.’

  ‘What’s the best one you been in the most expensive?’

  ‘The most expensive hotel I’ve been in?’

  ‘Yeah.’

  ‘Why do you want to know?’

  ‘I’m interested ain’t I?’

  ‘Well . . . a couple of years ago I splashed out. You really want to hear this?’

  ‘Yeah man.’

  ‘With a girlfriend. We had a holiday in the Maldives.’

  ‘What’s the Maldives?’

  ‘It’s a chain of islands in the Indian Ocean. Tropical islands.’

  ‘Tropical? Like the pictures? Palm trees white sand all that stuff.’

  ‘Yes. Sea so clear you can stand in it up to your neck and still see your toes.’

  ‘You went in it?’

  ‘Of course. Every day.’

  ‘Every day? Shit! In the sea!’

  ‘Have you never been in the sea?’

  ‘No way, man. Wouldn’t touch it.’

  ‘Why not?’

  ‘Never seen it but I seen the river and it’s disgusting.’

  ‘It’s not like that. It’s nice. Maybe one day you can save up and go somewhere hot and you could try it.’

  ‘You’re dreaming, man.’

  ‘It’s possible. Anything’s possible. We’ve just got to get ourselves out of where we are now without anyone getting hurt.’

  ‘You got no idea, man.’

  ‘It’s something to aim for, isn’t it?’

  ‘Forget it – you think that’s an option you don’t know nothing.’

  There’s a new look in his eye, as if a switch has been flicked. The anger that always seems to be just under the surface is suddenly an instant away from exploding out.

  ‘Maybe I don’t. I’m sorry,’ I say, not too craven, not frightened, just slowly backtracking.

  He slaps the newspaper down on the floor between us. ‘So is this shit true?’ he says.

  ‘Seems like it.’

  ‘They was picking us out and drugging us up? Shutting up the difficult ones?’

  ‘Looks like they’ve been doing it for years.’

  ‘Telling us they was helping us when actually they was helping themselves?’

  ‘That’s one way of looking at it. Should I be telling you it’s all lies? Because it’s not really in my interest to make you any angrier, is it?’

  ‘I ain’t angry with you.’

  I hold out the cord that’s tying my hands. ‘Well if this is what you do to your friends . . .’

  ‘You ain’t my friend neither. I never said you was my friend,’ he snaps.

  There’s something gratifying in the way he has to deny this so vehemently. Maybe, just maybe, I’m reeling him in. At one of the high windows I see the diagonal blue streak of a police light. This glimpse sparks a surge in my pulse, but I look away fast. I don’t want him to notice what I’ve seen.

  ‘How long have you been on it?’ I say.

  ‘Couple of years. Then before that I was on something else did the same job. Can’t remember how long.’

  ‘Why do you think they gave it to you?’

  ‘Teachers always hated me. I’m not one of them kids just sits there and does what he’s told – I just ain’t. Never knew there was side effects. They told me I was ill and I had to take the stuff – said it was medicine and would make me better. Nobody asked me about it – what was I supposed to do? It was medicine. I didn’t know my own mum was making money out of it. Should have figured it out – only time she ever took an interest.’

  ‘So if you don’t want the pills any more, and you took me hostage because of Concentr8 being taken away, maybe you should let me go.’

  It’s a long shot, but I have to say it. I try to smile, keep it light, act as if I’m joking.

  ‘Maybe I should. But it ain’t up to me.’

  ‘Who is it up to?’

  ‘Who d’you think?’

  ‘I thought you said nobody was in charge.’

  He stands up, his face revealing another one of those dizzying shifts in mood. ‘Don’t fuck with me,’ he says, spitting the words at me, before turning on his heel and walking out.

  Doctors have a huge influence and power to turn our social and cultural expectations for children’s behaviour into medical definitions of physical health, with those who do not conform to our social and cultural expectations being labelled as medically dysfunctional in some manner . . . Despite the volume of research and publications there is still no good evidence that supports the conclusion that ADHD is a medical disorder or that drug treatment is safe and effect
ive.

  Sami Timimi, Naughty Boys: Anti-Social Behaviour, ADHD and the Role of Culture

  TROY

  He was getting cheeky – trying his luck – so I tell him not to fuck with me and walk out thinking someone’s going to be watching but nobody’s there. The whole warehouse is empty. I stop just outside the door and look around then I notice a weird noise and a smell of I don’t know smoke or something.

  I go to the outdoors bit where it’s walled in and sort of carpeted with about ten thousand cigarette butts and that’s where I find everyone standing round a fire. Orange flames jiggling and swirling round an office chair– two big squares of slatted wood I ain’t seen before – the drawers out of a desk somewhere – cardboard folders all curled and black. Lee turns up carrying a computer screen – a big old bulky one – and chucks it on the fire all proud like look what I done! and you can see he’s kind of disappointed when it just squashes down the fire and don’t catch. I reckon he thought it would explode or something.

  Must be hard being Lee cause everything that happens is a surprise literally everything. If it had exploded it might have killed one of us and that would have been a surprise too – but he obviously didn’t think of that neither.

  Blaze is next to the fire holding a pile of medicine packets. Looks like he got all of them – all the Concentr8. One by one calm as you like he tosses them on to the fire.

  Everyone else is standing back from him just staring like they think he gone crazy but so crazy they’re too afraid to jump in and stop him – cause it ain’t a good idea to get in Blaze’s way when he got this look in his eye. Nobody’s saying nothing – they’re frozen by the madness of what’s happening cause they have no idea what’s going on. I do – I get it straight away it’s typical Blaze – he always waits and thinks but when he makes his move it’s extreme man he just does what needs to be done – no discussion no dithering no nothing.

  The packets twist in on themselves – pimpling up then blackening from the edges as they’re swallowed up. Above each one for a second or two the flame burns green and I look around and everyone else is confused and freaked but I feel this weird squelch in my heart cause he just don’t take no shit from nobody. He always knows what to do. There won’t ever be another person like him. He never persuades nobody not with words – he just does stuff and you got to follow him – no choice – cause he’s always in front and he just knows which way to go. Nobody can guess what he’s thinking not ever but I’m closest. Everyone else is nowhere.

  After the last one goes on the fire Blaze don’t even stay to watch it burn – he just walks out – not saying nothing – back into the warehouse. I watch him stroll in through the big concertina door and sit on the armchair. He don’t look up at me – he don’t look at nobody – and there’s an expression on his face it’s sort of like a smile but also like something completely else. It’s the way he sits – totally still – his arms not crossed not on his lap but laid out along the armrests – kind of relaxed but solid like he’s made of concrete – like he’s a monument to something but I don’t know what. There’s a vibe coming off him that makes me think this ain’t the end of something it’s the beginning – almost like he’s a boxer and there’s ten thousand people watching and there’s cheering and flashbulbs and shouting and the bell for the first round is about to go and in the middle of it all there’s just a guy – motionless and quiet – knowing he’s about to fight but not even afraid. He’s in the zone – I can see it – but any moment it’s all going to kick off and I don’t know what he’s going to do but it’s something big.

  I look back at the others and there’s the same thing on all their faces. The fuck? Did he just . . .?

  I got no desire to explain and I almost want to laugh at them cause they don’t understand nothing – but I keep it so nobody can see what I’m thinking.

  Karen stares at me like it’s my fault – like I done something to Blaze – but she knows nobody can’t say nothing to make him change from what he’s going to do anyway. She thinks it’s me cause she wants to hate me – and she knows Blaze respects me the way he don’t respect her. That makes her crazy jealous and you know what? I like it.

  I don’t blink or nothing I just let her stare at me and make her look away first. She’s fit though – she is so fit man it makes your nuts ache just being looked at by her. Madness really a girl as fine as that being jealous of me but I reckon that’s what makes her so mad cause she knows I’m not a player – she thinks I’m nothing and maybe she’s right but she just can’t get her head round me having something over her – it don’t make no sense in her head – it’s like an itch she can’t scratch – like some shitty ringtone on and on and on and you’d think you’d just be able to cut it off but you can’t because I ain’t going nowhere. If Blaze wasn’t Blaze she wouldn’t put up with it but Blaze is Blaze so that’s that – she can’t do nothing.

  Nobody figures what Blaze is doing with me why he don’t just get rid of me. Nobody gets it. Sometimes I don’t even get it but I know he won’t drop me. Whatever happens – whatever anyone says or thinks him and me are in it for good – we just are – we’re blood and Karen and everyone else will just have to deal. You can’t trust no one in this life just one person or maybe two if you’re really lucky and I got Blaze and he got me.

  There were many other concerns about the drug. Its association with illicit amphetamines, known vernacularly as speed, bennies, uppers, crank or crystal, was particularly damaging, and contributed to the banning of Ritalin in Sweden during the late 1960s.

  Matthew Smith, Hyperactive: The Controversial History of ADHD

  FEMI

  Burns it! The whole lot! Just like that – doesn’t ask nobody, doesn’t tell nobody, just chucks it on the fire like it’s rubbish and burns every packet. After everything we done to get the stuff! I swear he’s totally lost it, he’s out of control, he’s a maniac and we’re stuck here in his little . . . I don’t know what it is . . . it ain’t a gang. I ain’t in his gang. I ain’t nothing to do with him – he ain’t in charge of me. Strutting around like he’s some gangster boss and we’re his soldiers or slaves or whatever. No way! I didn’t ask for that. I ain’t into that.

  And the others they just take it! Nobody says nothing! Shit, it’s like he’s got them all tucked in his pocket.

  It’s true I don’t say nothing neither but that don’t mean I’m not thinking, not planning something, cause I ain’t nobody’s servant, not even Blaze. I tried Troy and he’s shoulder to shoulder with him. Can’t even get him to see what’s totally obvious about the hole Blaze dug us into. Karen neither, I mean she’s his girlfriend ain’t she, and she has moments when she sees he’s lost it, but then she flips back and she’s with him again. I mean even if we talked, and she said I was right, I wouldn’t know if five minutes later she’d change her mind again. Lee you can’t even talk to proper, can’t risk anything with him. Which just leaves Matchstick and there’s no way you can come between him and his brother, cause Blaze is like a god to him, but that don’t mean he can’t be useful cause I got an idea. I got a plan. Last chance. I ain’t walking out the front door on my own into all them feds, it’s got to be something else, and this is it. This is the last thing I can think of.

  So Blaze wanders off after burning the pills and the others stare at the fire like it’s some funeral or cremation or something, but after it dies down they drift off too, and I watch Matchstick, and when he’s on his own I go up to him. Tell him I got two quid. Tell him I’m desperate for chocolate, like dying for it, and if he goes and gets me a Mars he can buy one for himself. He just says maybe but he takes the money.

  So I go up to the balcony and act like I’m chilling but I’m not I’m watching Matchstick, watching everywhere he goes, and it takes a while but eventually there’s a moment when he looks up and nods to me and I know he’s going to do it. I nod back just casual like I ain’t going anywhere, but the second he turns away I go after him. Close enough to follow,
far enough away for him not to hear.

  First off he’s out through the concertina door and by the time I get there I’ve almost lost him, but I just see a flash of trainer disappearing through a wall. Not like a ghost or nothing, I mean there’s a sheet of metal what bends upward and he goes through the gap so I do too.

  It’s another warehouse no different from ours, and he crosses it then goes up one of them rickety iron staircases to a balcony, same as next door, but this one’s well rusted like it might just fall off and crash down, and I mean that would kill you, but that’s where he goes so I got to follow. Cause once I got Matchstick’s secret way out I’m free ain’t I?

  Hard to keep quiet in these huge echoey spaces – stairs and balcony going boom boom boom under Matchstick’s feet even though he don’t hardly weigh nothing – but I do my best and he don’t look back don’t seem to hear me or spot me. His steps is making a noise and with all the reverb that probably blots out mine, and I’m almost going on tiptoes. Anyway he got no idea I’m behind him, so maybe that’s why he don’t hear nothing.

  Far end of the balcony he goes up on the edge railings and swings off a metal joist on to this long narrow windowsill. He’s out along the far wall now, no balcony underneath him, just a drop as tall as a house and he’s edging along this sill and I’m just stuck to the spot thinking, no way man what’s he doing? But then he gets to a broken window and crawls out. On to the roof it must be.

  Shit I don’t like this, I mean Matchstick can climb anything – it’s his thing – it’s like he got superglue hands but I ain’t like that. What else is there though? Go back?

  Unreal man, how I got into this. Never wanted to hurt nobody or break no laws or nothing, now here I am got to be Mr Olympic Gymnastics if I want to just get home and save my skin. So unfair. And my heart’s zipping now like a hundred plus bpm, and there’s the beginning of a pukey sickness swirling in my stomach, and it’s just too much it ain’t what I deserve for what I done which is basically nothing. All I done is watch other people do stuff. That’s it. But if I get caught nobody’s going to believe that.