CHERUB: Brigands M.C. - Robert Muchamore Page 0,35
barrier and only to press the emergency stop button if they thought they were going to pass out.
Lauren felt huge relief when the treadmill motor ground to a halt. She clutched her sides, fighting a stitch, with sweat pouring down her face and dark patches on her orange shirt. Dante looked far worse and staggered towards the wall before retching turkey and bacon into a bucket hastily provided by a nurse.
They got twenty minutes to recover while a dentist prodded and scraped. Lauren’s teeth were perfect but Dante would have to come back for a filling and the possible extraction of a crooked rear tooth.
After the dentist they were led out to a waiting room, where Zara had been resting her swollen ankles on a coffee table the whole time.
‘Two more or less perfect specimens,’ Dr Kessler said when he emerged twenty minutes later. ‘Dante might benefit from contact lenses for reading. Lauren is slightly overweight and her fitness level is poor, but we have ten months to work on that before her basic training starts.’
Zara found an empty classroom in the main building for the academic test. The ninety-minute paper covered maths, general knowledge, spelling, IQ puzzles and a final section that asked you to write a short essay on what you thought would be your main strengths and weaknesses as a CHERUB agent. The questions were tough, and the fact that they were both stressed and exhausted after the physical tests didn’t make things easier.
Zara left Dante and Lauren in the dining-room while she marked the papers. It was just after three and the red-shirt cherubs, who were all aged ten or under, had finished lessons for the day. Some had after-school activities, but about thirty were hanging around in the dining-room eating buttered toast and chocolate bars.
Dante felt out of place because all the red-shirt kids seemed to know each other. They were chatting and teasing one another, and leaning over each other’s shoulders, borrowing rubbers and copying from homework sheets. None of them could speak to Dante or Lauren because they wore orange T-shirts, and the idea of settling into another new home and trying to make friends with another new bunch of kids filled Dante with dread.
‘How do you think you did on the test?’ Lauren asked quietly, as she stared down at the table.
‘Not bad,’ Dante shrugged. ‘That stupid essay … I hate it when you have to say what’s good and bad about yourself.’
‘I know,’ Lauren nodded, but before she finished speaking a mound of balled-up toast crusts whizzed in front of her eyes. They hit the table spinning and ricocheted upwards, breaking up and pelting Dante.
A group of six- to eight-year-olds a few tables across started laughing, and Dante and Lauren could tell who was responsible from his body language. It was Jake Parker, the kid they’d seen waiting outside the chairman’s office earlier in the day.
Dante shot out of his seat and roared, ‘Hey, midget, you want me to come over there and stick your head through the wall?’
Jake swaggered between the tables towards Dante. ‘You might be bigger than me,’ Jake grinned. ‘But I’m a black belt in Judo and Karate, so I’d suggest you watch your mouth.’
One of Jake’s friends came up behind and tugged him back towards the table. ‘Jake, you’re talking to orange. You’ll get punishment laps!’
Jake realised that his friend was right and started backing up.
‘Pussy,’ Dante taunted, and he gave Jake the finger.
This was more than Jake could handle. He reared forward, swung at the hips and launched an explosive kick. Tables and chairs ground against the floor as Dante dodged out of the way, but Jake kept coming, dropping into a fighting stance with his hand ready to launch an explosive Karate chop. Dante was a full head taller, but Jake’s moves were lightning fast and Dante suspected he’d bitten off more than he could chew.
But before Jake made contact an older girl with dark hair grabbed him around the waist. She hitched him up by the elasticised waistband of his tracksuit bottoms and threw him across a table top.
Dante sensed the opportunity and threw a punch as Jake straddled the table. But he only hit air because Lauren was dragging him the other way.
‘No trouble,’ Lauren said anxiously as she hauled Dante back to their table. ‘Come on. Sit down.’
As a wall of red T-shirts formed between Dante and Jake, one of the chefs yelled from behind the counter: ‘You lot, pack it