Cherry, Carbon and Sweet Success

Sutton’s mum, a small, slender lady, sure knew how to hit when she wanted to. Sutton had often wondered if she’d taken martial arts when she was younger –when she yielded a slipper, a coat hanger or his dad’s belt and repeatedly smacked his body, the sting and angry red mark it left behind said she must’ve.

‘Stupid boy, Sutton,’ his mum muttered. ‘Why did I raise such a stupid boy?’

Sutton only scoffed, grabbed his exam paper, and scampered back up to his room.

‘Better be studying up there,’ his mum called after him. ‘Don’t want to see you on that phone anymore!’

Sutton didn’t reply. He was used to it. And besides, a sixty-four percent wasn’t even that bad. The average was eighty, not even that much higher than him. And one of his friends got a forty.

But something about this time was different. Sutton had tried. He’d studied the content. He’d spent hours revising and knew the syllabus inside out. He’d let his mum down numerous times, but this time it felt like he’d let himself down.

‘Foreman. Stay after class today, please.’ Mr Grey, a stout man with a thinning head of grey hair and a chin that had an eternal shadow on it barked at Sutton, to the amusement of his classmates.

‘What’d you do this time?’ Juli scoffed beside him. She’d got a ninety-two percent on the exam, and hardly seemed to lift a finger. Sutton had to restrain his growing resentment towards her. After all, it wasn’t her fault he was stupid. But he couldn’t help but notice how they’d been growing apart recently. She’d seemed more distant, more forgetful and uncertain. More unsure of herself around him, despite their years of friendship.

‘Dunno,’ Sutton muttered. He slouched in his chair, pulling his sleeve up to conceal the fiery red whiplash he’d got from his mother last night. ‘Guess I’ll find out.’

Up close, Mr Grey looked a lot older than Sutton had realised. Deep wrinkles like a roadmap traversed across his face, his ears were long and droopy, like a beagle’s.

‘Thanks for staying. Have a seat,’ Mr Grey beckoned to his desk, were Sutton gently perched opposite him.

‘Am I in trouble?’ Was his first instinct. But Mr Grey shook his head.

‘I’ve noticed your hard work, Foreman, and I’ve noticed your results. They don’t seem to match up, don’t you think? Why do you think that is?’ Mr Grey stared at him quizzically.

Sutton shrugged. ‘Guess I’m just stupid.’ He muttered, his eyes drifting down towards his shoes.

Mr Grey shook his head again. ‘I don’t think that’s what’s going on here. You’re putting in the effort, it’s just not translating. But I can help with that, if you’re interested.’

‘Really? How’s that?’

‘So, you’re interested?’

Sutton nodded eagerly.

Mr Grey smiled warmly. ‘Good,’ he said, reaching beneath his desk. He produced a small can of soft-drink and placed it in front of Sutton. It was a can, completely silver, with no label or colouring.

‘What is it?’ Sutton asked hesitantly.

‘Energy drink,’ Mr Grey replied offhandedly. ‘Helps with memory and concentration. Some of the other students drink them. Helps with studies.’

Sutton hesitated. He enjoyed a can of Coke as much as the next person, but the unnamed can made unease prickle in his stomach.

‘What… What’s in it?’

Mr Grey nodded, as if he’d been expecting the question. ‘Caffeine, flavouring, sweetener. Some compounds known to help with memory and focus, like piracetam and modafinil. Antioxidants. And it’s carbonated.’ He continued when Sutton hesitated. ‘If you don’t want it, I’ll give it to the next student. I know a lot of people would kill to get their hands on this drink.’

‘No, no, I’ll take it,’ Sutton said quickly, snatching the can off his desk. ‘Thanks, sir.’

Mr Grey smiled and nodded slowly. ‘Come back to me for more. No more than one a day, though, yeah? Caffeine isn’t too good in large doses. And none before bed.’

Sutton nodded, slinging his backpack over his shoulder. The school had gone quiet; the junior years had left and a few of the older kids were studying quietly in the library.

‘Got it. Thank you.’

At home, Sutton popped the mysterious can open as he sat at his desk, his textbook open in front of him. It was nine pm, and he knew he shouldn’t have caffeine, but his brain was foggy, and he needed the memory boost. He brought the can up to his lips and poured it into his mouth. A cacophony of tiny pops startled him as the flavour –a tart berry, like a tangy mixture of black currant, cherry and pomegranate filled his mouth, accompanied by a wave of muscle-tingling warmth and stunning mental clarity. It was as if his brain was itching to learn something –to gain knowledge and to hang onto it, to store it, and repeat. Sutton’s previous begrudging attitude had vanished, like smoke in the wind, his mind like a muscle that was aching to be put to work.

At midnight, Sutton collapsed into his bed. He’d downed the mysterious energy drink in an instant, and now a strange, metallic taste coated his tongue in viscous saliva. His mind was buzzing, his hand aching with a fleshy dimple where his pen pressed against his finger. Despite the caffeine in his system, Sutton was instantly engulfed in mind-numbing sleep.

Mr Grey handed out a practice test the next day. He smiled knowingly at Sutton as he placed the paper on his desk, murmuring, ‘I hope you studied last night.’ Sutton responded with a resolute nod.

They handed the papers in at the end of class to be marked. Mr Grey paused when he reached Sutton.

‘Forgetting something?’ He asked.

‘Huh?’

‘Your glasses. Did you forget to put them on this morning?’

Sutton gingerly touched his face. He wore small, rounded glasses with blue frames that sat crookedly on his face. He blinked. He couldn’t see well without them. How had he forgotten to put them on this morning?

‘Oh, right. Yeah, I just forgot, I guess.’

Mr Grey nodded knowingly. ‘Of course. How’d you like the drink last night? Did it help?’

Sutton nodded eagerly. ‘Yeah, definitely. I could feel my brain, like, absorbing all the knowledge on the paper. It was crazy.’

‘Well, we’ll see how well it worked.’ Mr Grey gestured at the stack of practice tests on his desk. ‘Would you want another one? Another drink? I give six-packs to a lot of my students, they just come back after a week to collect another one.’

‘Oh, yes, please, that’d be great,’ Sutton said eagerly. ‘Where do you get them, actually? I was wondering if I could buy them myself.’

Mr Grey shook his head. ‘Impossible. They’re one-of-a-kind, manufactured locally. Very locally,’ he said, reaching beneath his desk. He pulled out a pack of the nameless cans, encased in plastic.

‘Okay. Well, thanks, then, sir,’ Sutton replied, hoisting the hefty stack onto his laptop and books.

Mr Grey said nothing, but smiled with unmoving eyes.

Sutton found Juli at the locker bay. Her arms were covered in tiny, perfect handwriting, names and thoughts. His eyes caught onto his name, written on her inner elbow, but Juli quickly pulled her blazer over her shoulders.

‘Hey, um… Hey,’ she said awkwardly, her eyes darting to her arms, now folded across her chest.

‘Hey, Juli. Mr Grey just gave me these cans of soft drink –said they help with memory. Crazy, but I think they work. Have you tried one?’

‘Um, who –who… did that?’ Juli stammered.

Sutton hesitated. ‘Mr Grey,’ he said slowly. ‘Our fifth period teacher. Remember?’

Juli comically slapped her forehead. ‘Right! Of course. Sorry, been a little forgetful today. That’s great if they help. I’ve got to go. I’ll see you tomorrow.’ Juli said hastily, then shrugged her backpack over her shoulders and brushed past Sutton, who was staring, his mouth hanging slightly ajar at the interaction.

At home, Sutton poured the contents of the silver can into a glass. The liquid was a viscid dark red with tiny bubbles popping to the surface. But he craved the feeling of devouring knowledge like a hungry tiger does its prey. So, he gulped the liquid down, feeling it fizz against his tongue, his mouth exploding with tangy cherry flavouring.

This time, it was one in the morning when Sutton broke out of his trance. He was panting, beads of perspiration clinging to his forehead, his armpits soaked in sweat. His mouth was sour with the taste of metal, like he’d just gulped down a can of blood. Sutton glanced at the six-pack of cans Mr Grey had given him at school.

They were all empty.

Mr Grey handed back their practice tests in class the next day. Sutton, to his shock, scored a ninety-seven. He turned to his side, where he was sure his friend usually sat. A girl, wasn’t it? What was her name? Sutton couldn’t remember. But he didn’t mind. He basked in the elation of the score, the A on his paper, for the first time since entering senior school.

‘Class, unfortunately I’ve got some sad news.’ Mr Grey addressed loudly. ‘Your classmate, Juli, has moved away. She’s been going through some stress in her home life and thought it was better if she left. Her parents have requested you don’t try to contact her.’ He surveyed the room, his eyes eventually meeting Sutton’s. Juli. So that was the girl he usually sat next to. They clearly weren’t that close, if he didn’t even remember his name.

It was as if seeing Sutton’s blank face prompted Mr Grey to continue. ‘Anyway, unfortunately some of you underperformed at the recent practice test. So, we’ll be taking another today. Grab out your materials, everything else on the floor.’

Sutton gently fitted a pen into his hand, and instantly winced in pain. The pen was resting on a large, red blister that had formed seemingly overnight.

‘Time’s up! Hand your papers up for collection. Foreman, please stay after class.’ Mr Grey barked. Sutton waited for someone to jeer at the comment, perhaps whoever he usually sat next to. What was her name again?

‘How was the test?’ Mr Grey asked quietly.

‘Easy. Finished half an hour early.’ Sutton said hastily. His words sounded blurry, vague, as if they were spoken by someone else.

‘Good,’ Mr Grey purred. ‘Have you finished the drinks? Do you need any more? I’ve just restocked.’

‘Oh, yeah. Yeah, they were great. I’ll take some more, thanks.’

Mr Grey pulled another six-pack out from under his desk. Sutton wondered how long he’d been taking the drinks from him for. Must’ve been at least a week, considering this was his second six-pack.

‘You’ve been drinking one a day?’ Mr Grey asked.

Sutton nodded, ‘yep.’

Mr Grey nodded. ‘Good. Glad they’re helping. Come see me when you need more.’

Sutton nodded again. ‘Will do. Thanks, sir.’

Sutton’s mum noticed his recent change in demeanour.

‘Going up to study,’ he muttered as soon as he got home.

‘Ah! Finally!’ She marvelled. ‘It only took eighteen years!’

The drinks tasted different that night. Sweeter, less tangy. Sutton didn’t mind it –Mr Grey had said he got a new shipment in; it was probably just a slightly different batch. Equally as carbonated. Cured his brain fog like a switch flicking off a tornado.

Sutton awoke in an unfamiliar room. He was in bed, staring at a cracked, blemished ceiling above him. Strange, unbranded cans of drink were scattered around his bed, dripping red liquid that stained the carpet.

Sutton stood up, unsteady on his feet. The sharp tang of metal in his mouth didn’t rinse out when he gulped down a glass of water that was beside his bed.

A woman he didn’t recognise made Sutton breakfast and ushered him out the door. He found directions written on his arm, along with the name, Mr Grey, written in thick, black letters.

Bands of students bustled past Sutton to get to class, but he stood at the entrance of the school, unsure of his next move. He’d never been here before, had he?

‘Sutton! Hello, I’m Mr Grey. How are you feeling today?’ A man, at least an inch shorter than Sutton with wispy, thinning hair greeted him warmly. Sutton was supposed to recognise this man. His name was scrawled on his arm.

‘Good,’ he mumbled. ‘Light-headed, I guess.’

‘Ah, that’s okay. Come with me, you must be very confused right now.’

Sutton nodded eagerly; glad someone understood his confusion. The man –Mr Grey –led Sutton into the school, through a large corridor and into an office where he gestured for him to sit opposite his desk.

‘Please, sit. I’ll explain everything.’

Sutton gingerly perched on the edge of the chair. He’d forgot a backpack, he suddenly realised. Kids were supposed to bring a backpack to school.

‘You’ve lost your memory, Sutton. But there’s a fix. Here –’ Mr Grey reached beneath the desk and pulled an unbranded silver can onto the table. ‘This’ll fix it. Drink it, and everything’ll come back.’

Sutton recognised the can as one of the many that had been scattered on his bedroom floor that morning. But he didn’t say anything, only pressed the can to his lips and savoured the tart cherry flavour that followed.

After only a moment, Sutton was hit by a wave of clarity.

He remembered everything.

It was the drink. Everything was caused by the drink. He’d realised it last night, in his heightened state of awareness. The memory loss. The confusion. Forgetting Juli. He’d vowed to never take it again and wrote Mr Grey’s name on his arm not as a friend, but as an enemy. A target. His target. He wanted revenge, and he wanted his memories back.

‘How –’ Sutton stammered. ‘How could you do this? This isn’t what I wanted. Please, help me get my memories back.’

‘This is what you wanted, remember?’ Mr Grey smiled. ‘You chose to take the cans. You chose to drink them all in one night. And it worked, no? You’re a genius.’ Mr Grey produced his most recent practice test. A 100 scrawled in red letters and circled several times glared back at him.

Sutton shook his head, his eyes now clouded with tears. He tried to stand up, but he swayed on his feet. This isn’t what he wanted.

‘No… No, you can’t –’ The sentence died on his lips as Sutton collapsed to the floor.

‘Yes, but I can,’ Mr Grey said as he knelt down beneath him. Sutton could feel he teacher’s hot breath on his neck. ‘My little genius, eh? Your mother would be so proud. And the other students, so happy.’

Sutton shuddered. Other students. He wasn’t the only victim here. Was that what happened to Juli? Had she consumed the drink, too? What had really happened to her?

Saliva frothed in the corners of Sutton’s mouth. He tried to move, but his limbs felt numb, helpless.

Slowly, his eyes drooped closed.

Mr Grey then secured a large needle from his desk. He jammed it into an unconscious Sutton’s veins, and drew out his dark, sweet-smelling blood into tubes.

Then, he emptied the tubes into blank, silver cans.