“No, it’s because we’re all on probation,” the other kid replied.
So. Great.
“Communication and cooperation will be your greatest asset,” Hunter continues. “Your mission sounds simple. Believe me, it’s not. Using the materials provided, each team will build a raft capable of carrying the whole team across the lake to the island in the middle. First team to get there wins the prize that awaits on the island. Glory for the winners; shame for the losers. Lads, this is not a social occasion. This is not some fancy cocktail party. This is survival. This is serious. Dig deep and power through. You!” He points at Jack. “What’s your name?”
“OK, so, hi, I’m Jack, and—”
“Stop!” Hunter shouts. “I just asked your name. Listen to commands. Respond accordingly.”
Jack nods.
“Jack, what key word or words are you taking from what I’ve told you?”
“Fancy cocktail party.”
Hunter’s eyes darken. “Oh. We have a joker.”
“Glory, then? Prize! I don’t know, build a boat and set sail?”
Hunter stares at him with utterly unimpressed eyes, then he turns to me. “What’s that on your face?”
I blink at him. “On my…”
“There! On your cheek!”
“Oh, it’s Sudocrem. I was… I got a graze.”
Hunter narrows his eyes. “A graze.”
“He was hit by a Pop-Tart,” Elliot adds.
“Guilty!” Jack trills, holding his hand up.
Hunter looks as though he’s about to explode with rage. “Some of you may see this as a bit of fun. A harmless way to pass the time. Let me tell you something. People die in water every year. You never know when the basic skills you’ll learn today will be needed.”
“This is such bullshit,” Jack whispers to me.
He’s not wrong. It’s everything I feared it would be. But while Jack being Jack worked a treat last night, I’m not sure things will end so well here, so I’m thinking he should really just keep his head down. Jack can be as cheeky as he likes to Auntie Karen – she’s not going to batter him. I’m not sure I can say the same for the other kids on this course.
“Team names!” Hunter announces. He looks at Jack.
Jack rolls his eyes. “Gay Ship Lollipop.”
“Fine,” Hunter says. “You lads?” He points at one group of the London boys.
“Destroyer.”
“Wait—” says Jack.
“And you other lads?” Hunter says, ignoring Jack.
“Armageddon.”
“We’re changing our name!” Jack pipes up.
Hunter gives Jack a malicious smile. “Too late. Words have consequences. First lesson. Armageddon, you’re working at the far end of the shore, Destroyer, you’re here, and Gay Ship Lollipop, you’re at the other end. Your fight for survival begins … now!”
Hunter blows a whistle and we all head over to our work areas, where we’re presented with six huge, empty plastic barrels, a pile of wooden planks, oars, and various lengths of rope.
Hunter’s right over with us. “Any initial plan of action, lads?”
“Lash the planks together in a criss-cross formation, attach to the barrels, launch into water, paddle to the island,” Jack replies.
“Think. Talk. Communicate,” is Hunter’s response. “Is there a better way?”
Jack blinks once. “No. That’s the way.”
Hunter runs his tongue over his lips. “Talk to each other. Communicate. Teamwork.” And he heads over to the next group.
“All this just so we can go to the festival,” Jack mutters, as he picks up one of the planks like it’s a completely foreign object. “Argh! Splinter!” he squeals, dropping it on his foot. “Argh! Why is this plank so homophobic?”
“Try sucking it out!” one of the lads from the other team shouts across, smirking.
Jack’s eyes widen. “Oh my days,” he says in hushed tones. “They’re talking to us. Let’s just get on with it, eyes down, focus.”
Which is all well and good, and is certainly my preferred way of dealing with this nightmare situation, but as we start trying to lash together our planks, of course Jack can’t help himself but to keep glancing up at the other boys. “That one keeps looking at me!” he hisses.
“Which one?” I ask.
“Don’t look!”
“OK, but which one?”
“The one that definitely would if it was just you and him alone in a tent with some cider because he’s curious but the next day he’ll totally ignore you and you’ll never speak of it again and then he’ll get a girlfriend.”
I look over. “Oh, yeah, him.” The boy (worryingly athletic-looking, white, sagging jogging bottoms that reveal grey boxers, Adidas sweat top, buzz cut) starts walking over to us. “Oh my god. Act normal. Act normal.”
“Why you keep looking for?” the boy says.
“Why have you come over?” Jack replies, without missing a beat.
“Bro, I come over ’cause you was looking over!”
“Are you sure?” Jack says. “Or were you just attracted by my strong jawline?”
The boy glares at him.
Jack sniffs. “What have you done anyway? Why are you on probation?” He lowers his voice. “Was it a brutal murder?”
I honestly wish Jack would just shut up, but apparently he’s determined to get us all beaten up.
“Hacking,” the lad replies.
“What, like computers?” Jack says.
The lad nods. “Yeah. Cybercrime. Specifically, a cryptocurrency scam, in my case.”
Jack looks impressed. “So why did they send you here?”
“I don’t know!” the lad replies, clearly as exasperated as we are. “Everyone always thinks boys need physical activity, innit?”
“Right!” I say.
“And what about your mates?” Jack continues. “Are they murderers?”
“Nah,” the lad says. “Corey helped ram-raid a cashpoint using a stolen forklift.”
The lad looks at our open-mouthed expressions of wonder and awe. God, he must think we’re so provincial and sheltered.
“Messin’ with ya!” he grins. “Why do that when a simple card skimmer does all the hard work for ya?”
Jack nods, like he knows all about that. “Mm. And so, were you all in ‘juvie’ together? Is that what you call it? ‘Juvie’?” He runs his tongue over his lips. “Did you have to wear a special … uniform?”
“Jack!” I hiss. I mean, really?
The lad rolls his eyes. “It’s probation, like I said. Whole point is that means you don’t go to juvie.”
“Oh, yes, yes, mais oui!” Jack replies.
Hunter blows his whistle. “Lads!”
The boy nods at Jack, then turns and heads back
