said, stuttering on the P.
James didn’t think of himself as pale, but he did look pasty amongst kids who’d grown up in year-round sunshine.
As James walked alongside his two new pals, one of the lads from the back of the History class walked past and nudged him in the back.
‘Mind the freaks, new kid,’ he said.
Another simultaneously passed Ruth on the opposite side and coughed loudly. ‘Loooooonies,’ he chanted.
The boys jogged away, looking pleased with themselves.
‘What was that about?’ James asked innocently.
‘They mock us because of our beliefs,’ Ruth answered stiffly. ‘But we never rise to words of devils.’
12. PACING
The faster the mission progressed, the greater the chance that something could be done about Help Earth before their next major attack, but things couldn’t be forced. Rushing might create suspicion and slow every subsequent stage of the mission, or even destroy their chances of getting inside the Ark and penetrating the Survivors’ inner circle.
Over the following two days of school, James had a few conversations with Ruth and Adam. One time he asked a couple of questions about the commune. Ruth was happy to share knowledge and even gave him an introductory pamphlet from her backpack: Ten myths and ten facts about the Survivors and their Christian lifestyle. James took the pamphlet and studied it, but made no comment.
*
James was average height for his age, but he was naturally stocky and CHERUB’s physical training programmes had built him into a person who was obviously better not messed with. Even though he acted withdrawn, nobody had the stomach to give him any stick.
Dana got a few hassles from boys hitting on her, but she’d had years of experience at telling them where they could stick their idea of a night on the beach.
Lauren had a tougher time. There had been a mix-up about her age between CHERUB and ASIS, which had left the eleven-year-old in a first-year class with twelve- and thirteen-year-olds. By the time the mistake had been recognised, the paperwork for the Prince family’s identity had all been sorted and putting things right would have delayed the start of the mission by up to a week.
Lauren was easily clever enough to cope with the schoolwork, but having pale skin and an English accent, combined with being smaller than most of her classmates, made her a target for constant verbal bullying and earned her the name Pommy Girl.
The two main bullies were called Melanie and Chrissie. They both looked older than thirteen, with bums and breasts eager to escape their uniforms. On Friday morning, the two of them started on Lauren as she walked between the bicycle racks and her formroom. They walked behind and kept slapping her backpack, knocking her off-stride.
‘Leave off,’ Lauren said furiously.
‘Leave off,’ they mocked.
They sat in a different part of the classroom during registration, but first lesson was Maths and they sat at the next table to Lauren. As the teacher handed out marked exercise books, Lauren set out her pencil case with her maths stuff in it and put a chewy sweet in her mouth.
‘Can I have one please?’ Melanie asked, acting as if butter wouldn’t melt.
Lauren reluctantly held out the packet of sweets, but instead of taking one, Melanie snatched the lot. She took one for herself, before passing the packet on to Chrissie.
‘Hey,’ Lauren said angrily.
As Melanie gave Lauren a look as if to say, what you gonna do, titch? Chrissie held the sweets out to a group of boys.
‘Pommy Girl’s giving away her lollies.’
The boys grabbed the packet and passed them around until there were none left. The teacher noticed as he got back to the front of the classroom.
‘Excuse me, who gave you lot permission to eat in class?’
‘They’re Lauren’s, sir,’ Melanie said.
The teacher tutted. ‘Lauren, I know you’re new here, but kindly remember that we don’t allow eating in class.’
As soon as the teacher turned back to face the blackboard, Melanie grinned and gave Lauren the finger.
‘Bitch,’ Lauren snarled.
‘Why don’t you cry, Pommy Girl?’
‘Do you want me to punch your face in?’
Melanie laughed. ‘You’re too little. You’re not even tall enough to punch me in the tits.’
Lauren was bursting with anger. She knew she was a trained CHERUB agent and that her character, Lauren Prince, was supposed to be quiet and withdrawn, but she found it unbelievably hard putting up with this kind of abuse for hours at a time.
She tried thinking positive thoughts, like how this mission could make her one of the youngest ever black shirts if