CHERUB: Brigands M.C. - Robert Muchamore Page 0,100

was in a state. Lauren tried to keep him calm, but all the little problems were stressing him out. The toilet upstairs was blocked, someone had puked on the doorstep, the woman who owned a cottage on the next plot of land phoned to complain about lewd dancing and he’d caught two girls snogging on Martin’s bed.

Worst of all one girl had brought an older cousin and then a bunch of his friends had turned up. Before long there was a group of five sixth-form kids who were acting rowdy and making phone calls urging more friends to come along.

‘What are we gonna do?’ Joe asked Lauren, as he sat on the bottom of the stairs drumming his leg. ‘If I ask them to go they’ll just laugh … And everyone will think I’m a geek.’

Lauren put a hand on his shoulder. ‘I’ve told you already, me and John will back you up if you want to go in there and ask them to leave.’

A roar of laughter and clapping came out of the front lounge and two people Joe hadn’t seen before walked past.

‘Who the bloody hell are they?’ Joe said. ‘I didn’t see them come in.’

Lauren shrugged. ‘I don’t think they’re bothering with the front door. They’re walking around the side and coming in through the French doors.’

‘Shit,’ Joe said, burying his head in his hands. ‘I never should have done this. You and me could have had the house to ourselves. Drunk some champagne, used my parents’ Jacuzzi. Instead I had to have this dumb party.’

‘Next time, eh?’ Lauren smiled, as she kissed Joe on the neck. ‘Shall I get you a drink?’

‘I suppose,’ Joe said. ‘Lager or something. I might as well try to enjoy myself.’

Lauren stumbled as she got off the steps and only avoided a fall by grabbing hold of the banister. ‘Those wine spritzer things are too nice,’ she giggled, as she ambled down the hallway towards the kitchen.

The kitchen worktop was covered with the residue from the cocktail making, the fridge door hung open and someone had dumped empty beer cans in the washing machine. Lauren grabbed a bottle of Stella for Joe. She wasn’t planning to drink another spritzer straight away but she saw that there were only a few left so she grabbed one.

‘Hey gorgeous,’ a kid with a beard slurred, grabbing a handful of Lauren’s bum as his other arm reached in for a beer. ‘You’re like, cute … you know?’

Lauren cracked her head on the inside of the fridge as she shot up. ‘Buzz off, you creep,’ she snapped as she scowled and rubbed her head.

The guy thrust his hips and flicked his tongue in and out. ‘You know you want me, baby cakes!’ he howled.

He howled again as Lauren jammed her finger in his eye.

‘Bitch,’ he moaned, as he dropped his unopened beer and stumbled backwards into a cabinet. ‘I was only messing.’

‘Kiss my arse,’ Lauren said, as she slammed the fridge door and stormed off with the two drinks. She was halfway down the hall when she heard a window breaking in the back lounge.

Joe got there first, and found a bunch of his school friends scuffling over the pool table with some of the older kids. The window had broken when two guys fighting over a cue had led to the thick end going through a pane of glass.

‘Hey, what the hell?’ Joe demanded, as he faced off an overweight kid who looked about James’ age.

‘These wankers won’t let us near the table,’ the fat kid explained. ‘All I said is that I’ll play the winner.’

‘These wankers are my friends,’ Joe answered back. ‘Who are you? Why are you even in my house?’

The kid shoved Joe with both hands. ‘You starting something, titch?’

‘I can batter you, you fat turd,’ Joe shouted.

Lauren and Dante had both come into the room, along with a whole bunch of the older kids.

‘Are we getting the pool table or not?’ one of them demanded. ‘These Year Eights need their butts whipped if you ask me.’

‘Do you know who owns this house?’ one of Joe’s mates shouted. ‘Start something here, mate, and the Führer will finish it.’

‘And where is he?’ the fat kid taunted. ‘Fat arsed old racist. Probably out lynching some coons with his KKK buddies.’

Joe charged forward. It had been a few years since he’d been coached by Teeth but he could still throw a decent punch and the fat kid hit the floor, unconscious. There was a collective