The Treatment: the gripping twist-filled YA thriller from the million copy Sunday Times bestselling author of The Escape. C.L. Taylor
jogging to catch up. By the time I reach her, she’s sitting in the shelter by the large field local schools use as a football pitch. She unzips her jacket, reaches into a pocket and pulls out her phone.
‘Look at this,’ she says.
A video appears on the screen. It’s a guy about our age standing on a skateboard, at the top of a ramp. He is dressed in a long-sleeved T-shirt, a beanie, jeans and trainers. As the camera zooms in on him he flashes the horns symbol with the fingers of his right hand and sticks out his tongue then he pounds the ground with one trainer and he’s off! The skateboard zooms down the ramp across a patch of tarmac and up another ramp. As it reaches the top, he stamps on the back of the skateboard and it flips into the air. For a second he’s separated from it but then he lands firmly, with both feet and zooms back down the ramp.
‘Yeah!’ yells a voice that sounds a lot like Zed’s and then a female hand makes the horns in front of the camera. Clamped between the thumb and fingers is a fat spliff.
‘That’s for me, yeah?’ Skateboard guy approaches the camera, grinning and whips it out of her fingers. He tokes on the joint and blows a stream of smoke up at the sky.
‘How good was I?’ he says as he looks into the camera.
‘Really good,’ Zed says. ‘Really bloody good.’
Skateboard boy leans in towards the camera. His face gets blurrier and blurrier the closer he gets and then the clip stops.
‘That’s when he kissed me,’ Zed says now. Her voice has changed. She sounds softer, more pained.
I don’t get it. What’s that video got to do with the RRA and the Government trying to take down her blog posts. He’s obviously her boyfriend but so what?
‘Come with me.’ She tucks her phone back into her pocket and stands up. ‘I’ve got something else to show you.’
I follow her through the dark park, towards the car park at the far end. The gate is locked so we have to climb over it.
‘Where are we going?’ I ask for the third time since we set off.
‘This is my car.’ Zed taps the bonnet of a red Mini Metro. ‘Passed my test last month. It’s ancient but it runs.’
If she can drive she’s older than me then, by at least a year.
‘Nice,’ I say, then jolt with surprise as I notice the shadowy figure sitting in the passenger seat. Zed sees me jump and rounds the car.
‘Charlie.’ She taps the passenger side window. ‘Come and say hello to my new friend.’
The door opens and I take a step back. I’ve got no idea who’s inside or whether or not I can trust Zed.
Two shiny black shoes appear beneath the open car door as Charlie swings his legs out. He slowly stands up, shuts the door and turns to face Zed. I can tell it’s the same guy I saw in the video, even in the half light, but they couldn’t look more different. He’s wearing neat, beige chinos – the sort Tony wears at the weekend – and a navy V-neck jumper over a white shirt. His hair is closely cropped, short but not Marines short. But it’s not his appearance that makes me shiver. It’s the strange, vacant look in his eyes as his gaze switches from Zed to me.
‘Hello.’ The edges of his lips curl up into a smile. It happens so slowly it’s like watching a robot attempt a grin. As he steps towards me, his right hand extended, I back away.
‘It’s OK,’ Zed says. ‘He’s not going to hurt you. Just shake his hand.’
I stiffly raise my right hand and lock palms with Charlie. He squeezes my hand and pumps my arms up and down once, twice, three times.
‘Did you go to the RRA?’ I ask him when he finally lets go of my hand.
He nods. ‘I did some stupid things and made some stupid decisions. Being at Norton House taught me how foolish I was. I have learnt how to be a better person and how to contribute to society.’
‘Right, I see.’
‘It’s a pleasure to meet you. Any friend of Evie’s is a friend of mine.’
‘Charlie,’ Zed hisses, ‘I told you not to call me that in public. You’re supposed to call me Zed.’
‘But that’s not your real name. Your real name is Evie Elizabeth Bar–’
‘Charlie, get back in the car!’ Zed yanks on his arm and gently shoves him in the direction of the red Mini. When he reaches the passenger door he touches the handle then looks back.
‘Apologies,’ he says, his cold, vacant eyes meeting mine. ‘I didn’t catch your name.’
‘Robin,’ I say. ‘Robin Redbreast.’
I wait for him to laugh or tell me to sod off. Instead he nods, as though Robin Redbreast is a perfectly normal name, and gets into the car.
‘Well?’ Zed says as the passenger door clicks shut. ‘Do you get it? Do you understand why we had to meet? Why you needed to meet Charlie for yourself?’
I glance back at the car. Charlie is watching us from the passenger seat, still smiling in that strange fixed way. I can’t believe he’s the guy from the skatepark. They look alike but it’s as though they’re two completely different people.
‘What’s wrong with him?’ I ask. ‘Is he on drugs?’
Zed laughs dryly. ‘If only. I could stop him from taking them and he’d go back to being the old Charlie again.’
‘So why’s he like this? What happened to him?’
‘They “treated” him.’ She fixes her bright, blue eyes on me. ‘That’s what did this to him. They turned him into this … this …’ She shakes her head. ‘I don’t know what he is. He looks like Charlie, he feels like him and smells like him but his personality’s gone. The Charlie who went to the RRA was a rebel. He was outspoken. He was lively. He kicked back at authority. He –’
‘He sounds a lot like my brother.’
She raises her eyebrows and sighs. ‘That’s what I was worried about. But he won’t be your brother when he gets out. You won’t recognize him. Charlie used to smoke weed, a lot of weed. That’s why he was excluded from three schools. He was caught toking in the school grounds. Now if I ask him if he fancies a smoke he gives me a lecture about the psychotropic effects of marijuana and reels off statistics about heavy users being more prone to schizophrenia, yada yada yada.’
I shrug. ‘Well, that is true.’
‘But it’s not the point. The point is there’s no way Charlie would have given me a lecture like that before he went in. And he definitely wouldn’t have announced that he wants to train to become an accountant. Or agree with his dad that the police should have greater stop and search rights, or suggest that internet usage should be monitored nationwide and —’
‘You think he’s been brainwashed,’ I say, glancing back at the car. ‘Don’t you?’ Charlie is still watching us intently. He’s starting to seriously freak me out.
‘Yeah.’ Zed runs her hands through her hair and stares up at the sky. She inhales sharply through her nose and blinks rapidly but there’s no stopping the tears that well in her eyes. ‘Sorry, sorry.’ She swipes at them with her coat sleeve. ‘I can’t believe I’m crying in front of a complete stranger but you’re the first person I’ve really talked to about this and it’s … it’s just so hard. I’m in love with him. Or at least, I was. I keep waiting to see a glimpse of the old Charlie, for whatever’s happened to him to wear off, but it hasn’t happened. It’s been three months since he left the RRA and …’ Fresh tears replace the ones she wiped. This time she doesn’t try to hide them.
‘Hasn’t anyone else noticed?’ I say. ‘His friends or his parents? If Mason came back like Charlie, Mum would be onto