Feral Youth

Polly Courtney

Description

The truth is, it ain't just a race thing. They talk like it is, but really and truly it's black against white, young against old, authorities against the rest. It's countless of things. There's bare reasons for feeling vexed right now. Growing up on a south London estate and excluded from every school that would take her, Alesha is the poster girl for the nation's 'feral youth'. When a young teacher makes an unexpected reappearance in the 15-year-old's life, opening the door to a world of salaries, pianos and middle-class housemates, Alesha's instinct is to pull up her hood and return to the streets. But fuelled by a need to survive, she falls into a cycle of crime, violence and drug-dealing, her one true ally deserting her when she needs him most. While everyone around her is rallying against the authorities in a war of haves and have-nots, Alesha finds herself caught in the crossfire, inextricably linked to the people she is trying to fight against. Can she see a way out? And as riots sweep the nation, whose side will she take?Born in South London and a resident of Ealing, an area affected by the London riots, Polly wrote Feral Youth 'to give a voice to the thousands of frustrated youths who, like Alesha, feel marginalised and ignored by the rest of society'. She believes that the real causes of the riots have not gone away and that further unrest will happen in a matter of time. Feral Youth is a work of contemporary adult fiction that covers various topical themes, including the riots, youth culture, gangs and knife and gun crime. It sits alongside Stephen Kelman's Pigeon English and Emma Donoghue's Room in that it is aimed primarily at the adult reader and provides an alternative perspective on a world we think we know.

Informations

• Publié par: Troubador Publishing Ltd
• Date de parution: 01 août 2013
• Nombre de lectures: 0
• EAN13: 9781783069309
• Langue: English

Extrait

FERAL YOUTH

Copyright © 2020 Polly Courtney
The moral right of the author has been asserted
This novel is entirely a work of fiction.
Apart from any fair dealing for the purposes of research or private study, or criticism or review, as permitted under the Copyright, Designs and Patents Act 1988, this publication may only be reproduced, stored or transmitted, in any form or by any means, with the prior permission in writing of the publishers, or in the case of reprographic reproduction in accordance with the terms of licences issued by the Copyright Licensing Agency. Enquiries concerning reproduction outside those terms should be sent to the publishers.
This is a work of fiction. Names, characters, businesses, places, events and incidents are either the products of the author’s imagination or used in a fictitious manner. Any resemblance to actual persons, living or dead, or actual events is purely coincidental.
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ISBN 9781783069309
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A catalogue record for this book is available from the British Library.

Matador is an imprint of Troubador Publishing Ltd
To Dad
PRAISE FOR FERAL YOUTH
‘Feral Youth is a unique story that brings the lives and challenges of urban youth to the fore in a provocative way, giving an insight into life on London’s streets beyond the negative stereotypes and provoking us to address the underlying causes of the riots.’
Patrick Regan OBE, Founder & CEO, XLP
‘Feral Youth is as compelling as it is horrifying. It lifts the lid on the lives of marginalised young people that the media demonises and the rest of us prefer to ignore.’
Fiona Bawdon, Freelance journalist & Senior Researcher, Reading the Riots
‘Seeing the world through the eyes of youth, as Polly has achieved with this novel, is something that politicians and leaders of industry need to strive to do. It gives a unique insight into the very real problems encountered in some of our most deprived areas. Taking the right path and making the right choices is a struggle. The stark reality of life on the streets today is that the wrong choices are often the easiest ones.’
Gary Trowsdale, Damilola Taylor Trust
‘The riots were widely misunderstood. The perception of feral youth causing havoc, driven by nothing more than criminalisation, was mooted from the start and stuck. It meant that the underlying causes such as poverty, broken homes and deprivation, were largely unexamined. This book changes that. If you want to understand why so many young people took to the streets two summers ago, read this book.’
Sonya Thomas, Journalist & Researcher, Reading the Riots
ABOUT THE AUTHOR
Polly never intended to be a writer. She discovered her passion by accident, turning her experiences as a junior investment banker into a fictional exposé of the Square Mile, Golden Handcuffs . She is a fierce champion of the underdog, rallying against sexism, racism and wealth inequality in both her writing and her broadcast appearances. She lives in Ealing, one of the areas affected by the riots of 2011, and her early childhood was spent in South London, where this book is set.
For more information or to get in touch with Polly, please visit
www.pollycourtney.com
OTHER TITLES BY THIS AUTHOR
Golden Handcuffs
Poles Apart
The Day I Died
The Fame Factor
It’s a Man’s World
ACKNOWLEDGEMENTS
Thank you Aisha, Aiysha, Alina, Damilola, Elisa, Faisa, Hareem, Jade, Joyce, Kainaat, Madihah, Marsha, Monique, Rachel-Lee, Reneé, Rochelle, RPC, Sarah, Sreeroopa, Sukaina, Talia, Virginie, and Zoe at Westwood Girls’ College, for opening up to me and doing your best to teach me your slang.
Huge thanks to Cat, Rachel and Blue, for your endless support along the way. I won’t list everything you’ve done as it would use up too many pages.
Thanks to everyone who fed into the research for this book – in particular SJ, Iyabo, Alex, Annalisa, Sam, Sara and Jo, as well as all those on the streets of South London who provided inspiration, knowingly or otherwise.
Thank you Joy, for the rigorous editing, and thanks also to Laura, Kat, Jo T, Ian, V, Hannah and Abigail for reading those early drafts. Sinem, I thank you for the fantastic book cover and Jo R, you’re a loyal sounding board.
I would like to thank Jeremy, Jane, Sarah and everyone else on the publishing team at Troubador, as well as Sally, Jenny, Diane and Olivia. Sam, thanks for the guidance.
Finally, I would like to thank Chris and my family, for always being there.
GLOSSARY OF ‘STREET’ SLANG TERMS A bag A thousand pounds Bait Blatant, conspicuous Bare Lots, lots of Bennies Speed, crystal meth Big man tings Serious business A bill A hundred pounds Blud Very close friend Bone Spliff, joint Boxed Beaten up Boydem Police Bredrin Very close friend Bumbaclot Highly insulting term, derived from Jamaican slang for ‘bum cloth’ or tampon Busted Arrested Buzz Crap, rubbish, disgusting Clapped Ugly Clink Prison, jail, Young Offender Institution Cotch Hang around Creps Trainers Crow Weed, marijuana Cuz Very close friend Deela Drug dealer (near the top of the food chain) Draw Weed, marijuana Dubz Graffiti Endz Territory, postcode, neighbourhood Fam Very close friend Food Drugs (One) G A thousand pounds Gwop Wad of notes (money) Hyped Agitated, psyched, ‘on it’ Ice Diamond jewellery, ‘bling’ Jezzie Prostitute Key Kilogram (of drugs) Kiss my teeth Disrespecting someone Mandem Group of men, typically gang members Merked Knifed, stabbed, seriously injured Nabbed Arrested Notes Money Lick Beat up Niner Gun (9mm) p’s Money Paigon Disloyal person Pen Prison, jail, Young Offender Institution Peng Pretty Piece Gun Q Quarter-ounce of marijuana Real talk Serious conversation Rep, repping Represent, representing, exerting power over Rims Car Screws Prison guards Shanked Knifed, stabbed Shotter Drug dealer on the streets (low in the food chain) Shubz Party Sket Prostitute Slump Beat up Smarties Pills, e.g. Ecstacy Snake Disloyal person Split Run off Strap Gun Ting Thing, often code for gun, weapon Tonked ‘Built’, muscular Undies Undercover policemen Wasteman Waster, loser Wheels Car Whip Car Whipped on Crazy for Yardie Jamaican Yat Girl Z An ounce of marijuana
TEXT SPEAK BRB Be right back WBU? What ’bout you? WUU2? What you up to?
CONTENTS
About the Author
Other Titles by this Author
Acknowledgements
Glossary of ‘Street’ Slang Terms
Chapter 1
Chapter 2
Chapter 3
Chapter 4
Chapter 5
Chapter 6
Chapter 7
Chapter 8
Chapter 9
Chapter 10
Chapter 11
Chapter 12
Chapter 13
Chapter 14
Chapter 15
Chapter 16
Chapter 17
Chapter 18
Chapter 19
Chapter 20
Chapter 21
Chapter 22
Chapter 23
Chapter 24
Chapter 25
Chapter 26
Chapter 27
Chapter 28
Chapter 29
Chapter 30
Chapter 31
Chapter 32
Chapter 33
Chapter 34
Chapter 35
Chapter 36
Chapter 37
Chapter 38
Chapter 39
1
Reggie Bell is dead. He was seventeen. JJ says we saw him get shanked last night, but really and truly, I didn’t see nothing. It was all just a blur of hoods – a mad whoosh in the darkness.
I heard it, though. Reckon half of South heard Reggie Bell die. It was the kind of noise a cat would make if it got stretched and stretched ’til it snapped. Then nothing. JJ says that’s when Reggie died. He says the blood was leaking out of his body from the slit in his neck and when there was two pints all over the road, that’s when he died. JJ knows about things like that. He learnt more stuff in the Young Offenders’ than I learnt in the whole of year 10.
‘Alesha?’
I keep on ripping strips off my exercise book, watching the tiny curls float their way to the floor.
‘ Alesha? ’
I let out this big sigh and drag my eyes up to Mrs Page’s face. When it comes to jarring teachers, Mrs Page ain’t the worst at Pembury High, but she’s up there.
‘Why do you think George shot Lennie at the end?’
My shoulders lift up and I let out a long, loud sigh. The rest of the class is watching, waiting for me to say something rude.
‘Coz he was a paedo, Miss?’
Laughter travels round the classroom. I smirk, getting back to ripping strips off my book. I’m nearly at the margin now, which is filled with jaggedy biro scribbles.
‘Alesha, that’s not funny.’ Mrs Page stares at me, her head sticking out like she’s one of them long-necked birds. ‘Do you know who George and Lennie are? Have you actually read this book?’
‘Yeah,’ I lie.
I ain’t read the book. I got about three sentences in and then I gived up coz the page was filled with complex words. Honestly, I thought this Lennie man was wrong in the head coz Mrs Page kept banging on about him stroking rabbits and such. That’s why I said he was a paedo – it weren’t even a proper joke.
‘Then I’ll ask you one last time,’ says Mrs Page, staring me out. ‘Why do you think George shot Lennie?’
I ping my ruler against the desk, trying to come up with a good reply. Jokes is the best way. I ain’t gonna be one of them losers who just stares back at the teacher like a goldfish, saying I don’t know. You do that, you lose all your respect.
‘Coz he was pissed off with Lennie’s jarring questions,’ I say, making a point.
‘Right, that’s enough .’ Mrs Page does her crossed-arms, pouty mouth thing at me while another laugh ripples round the room. ‘And what is that mess on the floor?’
She’s losing it, I can tell. I just sit there and watch as she flings her arms about, eyes rolling in their sockets as she jabbers on.
Truth is, I don’t see how this book is gonna help me live my life. Is it gonna get me a flat? Is it gonna bring in the p’s so JJ don’t have to go thieving wallets for our food at night? What’s the point in talking about made-up killings in a made-up book when there’s real ones going on down the road? Mrs Page don’t know nothing about blood