CHERUB: Dark Sun - Robert Muchamore Page 0,7

How about you get down in the dirt and do ’em for him?’

Lauren didn’t like it, but she wanted the instructor out of her sight so she hit the dirt and started counting Andy’s press-ups. Her lead-filled pack was chafing all the skin on her back, she was boiling hot, her arms hurt and sweat dripped off the end of her nose into the dirt.

Strict discipline, tough punishments and hard physical training were the three worst things about being a CHERUB agent, but they gave cherubs an edge that enabled them to work safely undercover and accomplish tasks well beyond the scope of ordinary kids.

There was nothing to stop Lauren or any other agent quitting campus and going to live an ordinary life with a foster family, but even when her lungs burned and her boots were full of blisters she never considered it. Because when you showered off, patched up your wounds and looked in the mirror you saw an extraordinary person looking back at you.

Three years earlier, Lauren had arrived on campus as a bright but perfectly ordinary nine-year-old. Now she was one of the most highly rated agents on CHERUB campus. She spoke fluent Spanish and Russian, was fit enough to run ten kilometres without getting out of breath, could handle a car on a skid pan, load and shoot any firearm you cared to name and if she couldn’t get her hands on a weapon she also knew several ways to kill you with her bare hands.

As Lauren made the tenth and final upwards push, Miss Speaks’ enormous hand pressed down against her pack. The harder Lauren fought to straighten her arms, the more Speaks pushed against them.

‘Back-chatting a guest on campus,’ Speaks tutted. ‘Are you regretting it now, you vile little tramp?’

Lauren tried not to think about how this was all Jake Parker’s fault as she gritted her teeth and stared at the dirt. Sweat was now pouring down her face and her stomach muscles felt like they were going to explode, but failure wasn’t an option: Miss Speaks would only devise some other form of torture.

Lauren finally came close to getting her arms straight, but Speaks shoved downwards and Lauren found her nose back in the dirt and grit sticking to her sweaty face. In basic training cherubs are taught to shut out pain and focus on a seven-word mantra: This is tough but cherubs are tougher. Lauren closed her eyes and silently mouthed it to herself.

Finally, after almost a minute of straining, Miss Speaks released her grip and Lauren completed the push-up.

‘Determined,’ Speaks said admiringly, as Lauren staggered to her feet. ‘You’ve got heart.’

Compliments from training instructors were as rare as chicks hatching from Cadbury’s Creme Eggs. Lauren grudgingly acknowledged the compliment as she straightened up. The heat made her woozy and her eyes moved in different directions as she looked ahead.

‘Move off then,’ Speaks yelled. ‘Across those beams before my boot comes swiftly into contact with your little pink arses.’

‘You OK?’ Andy asked guiltily as they staggered towards the beams. ‘Sorry. I’m so bad at push-ups.’

Lauren shrugged. ‘Not your fault God gave you weedy arms.’

James and Bruce watched from the platform in the trees as Lauren and Andy each lined up at the start of a beam. As Lauren stepped off, Bruce reached up and dropped a bar that held the punchbags in place. James and Bruce each grabbed a leather handle stitched to the back of a bag and lined up behind them.

‘I’ll go for Lauren,’ James said.

Because Lauren had done his push-ups, Andy felt fresher and moved off faster. Lauren could have done with a moment to catch her breath and wipe the grit off her face, but she knew Speaks would bite her head off if she showed any sign of slacking.

As Andy took his third step, Bruce gave his heavy bag an almighty shove towards him. James and Bruce’s platform was disguised by the trees and the first thing Andy knew about their presence was when the rope holding up the bag creaked and the huge leather sack sliced across his path just a few centimetres in front of him.

‘Missed,’ Bruce cursed, reaching out to catch the bag as it swung back towards the platform.

James released his bag. He didn’t always get on with his sister, but he had no desire to knock her into a muddy pond so he swung the bag out wide, missing her by several metres.

‘James Adams,’ Miss Speaks shouted furiously. ‘If I see