CHERUB: Class A - Robert Muchamore Page 0,4

her crawliest voice.
‘B, I suppose,’ Mr Large said. ‘You did a bang-up job, but I can’t give you an A because you were up against such feeble opposition.’
Gabrielle and Kerry smiled at each other. James wanted to knock their stupid smug heads together.
‘Right, time to head back to the hostel,’ Large said. ‘Bruce, I need the car key.’
Bruce chucked it over.
‘That won’t work,’ Gabrielle said. ‘That’s for the front door of the villa. I put it on a Mercedes key ring so it looked like the car key. You want this one.’
Mr Large caught the real car key and loaded Thatcher the dog on to the front seat. Gabrielle and Kerry got in the back, squashed up with the two eight-year-olds.
‘Oh no,’ Mr Large grinned, as his massive body sank into the driver’s seat. ‘Not enough room in the car. It looks like James and Bruce will have to find their own way home.’
‘But we drove in the van for ages before they dropped us off,’ James gasped. ‘I’ve got no idea how to get back to the hostel from here.’
‘How awfully sad,’ Mr Large said, sarcastically. ‘I tell you what, if you manage to make it home before midnight, I’ll put your grade up to a D and you won’t have to repeat the exercise.’
Mr Large turned the key in the ignition and the car started rolling forward. Thatcher poked her head out of the window and barked as the car crunched down the gravel driveway. James and Bruce looked despondently at each other.
‘I don’t think it’s that hard,’ Bruce said. ‘It’s three hours until midnight and it’s all downhill.’
James looked totally miserable. ‘My legs feel like blocks of wood.’
‘Well,’ Bruce said, ‘I’m gonna start walking. You can go through this again if you want, but I’m not going to.’
‘What I can’t believe,’ James said, ‘is that everyone told me to get my act together and I never listened.’

3. SUN
Unless they’re away on a mission, every kid at CHERUB spends five weeks in the summer on the Mediterranean island of C—. It’s mostly a holiday: a chance to muck about on the beach, play sport, ride quad bikes over the sand dunes and have a shot at being normal kids. But cherubs aren’t normal kids: they could be sent on an undercover mission at any time. Even on holiday, they are expected to stay fit and do the odd training exercise.
Like loads of cherubs before him, James found it easy to slack off when there was a beach on the doorstep and tons of other kids to muck around with. For the last four weeks, he’d skipped fitness training. He’d spent his days messing about on the beach and his nights watching DVD marathons while stuffing his face with popcorn and chocolate. When James got his training assignment, he ignored Kerry’s advice to study it thoroughly and went out on a jet ski instead.
James considered his folly as he sauntered through the sticky night air towards the CHERUB hostel. The physical training instructors were going to make his life a misery. Once you gave them a reason, they didn’t let off until you were back in top shape. James couldn’t make any excuses: Amy, Kyle and loads of teachers had warned him to exercise and take the training seriously, but he’d lost all sense of responsibility the second he hit the beach.
Even after getting lost a couple of times, James and Bruce beat the midnight deadline for getting back. James had a grazed elbow where he’d tripped in a pothole in the dark and they were both gasping for a drink.
A bunch of older kids were having a moonlit barbecue in the gardens at the front of the hostel. Amy Collins came running over the lawn when she noticed James. She was beautiful, sixteen years old, with long blonde hair. She wore denim shorts and a flowery top that stopped above the gold ring through her navel.
‘Nice paint job, boys,’ she giggled. ‘Gabrielle and Kerry said they scrubbed the floor with the pair of you.’
‘You’re drunk,’ James said.
Drinking alcohol wasn’t allowed, but CHERUB staff turned a blind eye with the older kids, as long as they didn’t go mad.
‘Just a teensy drop,’ Amy said. ‘We went out on a boat and caught fish.’
Amy spread her arms out to the size of a big fish, almost lost her balance and doubled over in drunken hysterics.
‘You want barbecued fish?’ she spluttered. ‘And there’s fresh bread from the village.’
‘It’s late,’