CHERUB: Class A - Robert Muchamore Page 0,20

needed if he was going to make friends with Junior.
‘I can show you around if you want,’ Charles said.
‘It’s OK,’ James replied awkwardly. ‘I’ll manage, but cheers for the offer.’
Charles didn’t carry a backpack like the other kids; he had a brown leather briefcase. Judging by the noise when he put it down, he kept a couple of bricks inside. Charles stooped over the desk and began frantically scratching at the back of his hand. A snowstorm of skin flakes drifted on to the table in front of him.
‘I’ve got eczema,’ Charles explained noisily. ‘It gets worse in the summer when I sweat.’
Mr Shawn started handing out timetables and burbling about the fabulous opportunities presented by the after-school chess and drama clubs. Ten minutes into school, James already wanted to burst out of the front gate and run for the hills. He’d always found school boring, but after being at CHERUB, where the classes were small and the teachers pushed you, normal school made him feel like his life was running in slow motion.
Charles was bored as well. He got an apple out of his briefcase and crunched into it. Mr Shawn stopped talking and glowered at him.
‘Charles, what on earth are you doing?’
‘Eating an apple,’ Charles said, as if he’d been asked the world’s stupidest question.
‘We don’t eat in class, do we?’ Mr Shawn said.
Everyone started laughing. If a cool kid had bitten the apple, they would have laughed at how funny it was. But they all had Charles down as class loser, so everyone was shaking their heads and there were a few murmurs of spastic and retard.
‘Put it in the bin, Charles.’
Charles took a final bite of the apple, before hurling it at the metal bin behind Mr Shawn’s desk. He missed, so he lumbered over and picked it off the floor. The back of his trousers looked set to rip open when he bent down and you could see his bright green Y-fronts.
‘Nice knickers, Charles,’ one of the girls shouted.
‘Yeah,’ someone else shouted. ‘But they were white when he put them on.’
The kids went into another round of laughs.
Charles missed the bin a second time, even though he was dropping the apple from less than a metre. He lost his temper and kicked out. The bin smashed against the wall and the metal got bent out of shape.
‘Charles, calm down,’ Mr Shawn shouted.
‘I hate bins,’ Charles steamed, booting it again.
‘Into your seat now, Charles, unless you want a detention tonight.’
Charles stumbled back to his seat.
*
Their maths teacher was a fruitcake. She had the key for the wrong classroom. Everyone stood around in the corridor while she went looking for the caretaker. Junior and his pal wandered up to Charles. James was standing next to him.
‘Did you miss us this summer?’ Junior asked.
Charles kept quiet. Junior grabbed his wrist and bent back his thumb.
‘Did you bring us any presents from your holidays?’ Junior asked, tightening his grip until Charles’ face twisted up in pain.
‘No,’ Charles gasped.
‘That’s not nice. I think you deserve a slap.’
Junior let Charles’ thumb go and clocked him around the face. It wasn’t hard. It was mainly done for humiliation.
‘And who’s your new friend?’ Junior asked.
‘James,’ Charles stuttered.
Junior faced James off. He was a fair bit shorter than James, but he had beefy arms and shoulders, as well as a mate to back him up. He gave James a little shove.
James felt edgy. CHERUB training had taught him that your first encounter with someone sets the tone for everything that follows. If James appeared weak, Junior would never consider him an equal and they’d be unlikely to make friends. But if James lashed out, they might become enemies and that would be even worse. He had to get the right balance between the two.
‘Try pushing me around if you want to,’ James said casually. ‘But I wouldn’t recommend it.’
Junior turned to his mate and smiled.
‘What’s this, Del?’ he laughed. ‘Looks like the new boy thinks he’s a hard man.’
Junior tried to grab James’ wrist. James dodged out the way and jabbed two fingers into Junior’s belly, sending him into a spasm.
‘Too slow,’ James said, shaking his head in contempt.
Junior lunged again. His fist hit James in the guts, knocking the wind out of him. The force behind it surprised James. In a flash of anger, he hooked his foot around Junior’s ankle and shoved him over. All the other kids backed up, expecting a fight.
James stood over Junior with his fists bunched, defying him