CHERUB: The Sleepwalker - Robert Muchamore Page 0,16

to prepare boys for leading public schools such as Eton and Rugby. I’ve discussed this with my colleagues and we no longer feel this school can provide the best education to someone with Fahim’s particular needs.’

It took Fahim a few seconds to untangle the words and realise that the headmaster was excluding him. Yasmin looked crushed, but Fahim had grown to loathe Warrender Prep and he felt like a huge weight had been lifted.

‘Bloody good,’ Fahim roared, as he stood up and eyeballed the headmaster. ‘Your school is shit anyway.’

‘Manners, Fahim,’ his mother said fiercely, but the boy wasn’t having it.

‘I don’t care if you believe me or not,’ Fahim yelled. ‘They did hide my stuff; they did bully me just like I said. You and the other teachers did nothing but try to cover up the reputation of your nice friendly school.’

Fahim expected his mother to whack him around the head, but as he looked across he saw that she actually looked quite proud of him. He didn’t want to see Mr Ashley’s stupid face any more and he strode out of the office and into the school’s main lobby. He found himself surrounded by three hundred years of history: lists of names on the wall, from former headmasters to honoured dead in the First World War, and glass cabinets filled with trophies, dusty pennants and moth-eaten rosettes.

‘Bloody school,’ Fahim shouted, startling a pale-faced ginger boy called David who was in his class. David sat on the spongy chair outside the nurse’s office, dressed in games kit and suffering with a badly studded calf. He was a skinny kid who copped as much trouble from Martin Head and his mates as Fahim did.

‘What’s up?’ David asked.

‘Just got expelled,’ Fahim grinned.

David was shocked. ‘Sorry to hear that,’ he said stiffly.

‘I’m not sorry,’ Fahim answered, as he realised to his surprise that nobody had come out of the headmaster’s office behind him. He could hear his mother’s voice, and although he couldn’t understand her words, he could tell from her tone that she was giving the headmaster a piece of her mind.

‘It’s cool that you busted Martin’s fingers,’ David said. ‘He thinks he’s so big. Now he can’t even write.’

Fahim shook his head as he eyed a small green fire extinguisher strapped to the wall. ‘He is big,’ Fahim said. ‘That’s our problem.’

David tutted. ‘Remember that time he booted Greg in the guts? And all he got was a detention. It’s total favouritism, just because he’s captain of the rugby team.’

‘You know what?’ Fahim said, as he ripped the fire extinguisher from its Velcro harness. ‘Screw this place.’

David yelped with shock as Fahim smashed the end of the metal extinguisher through the glass front of the main trophy cabinet. Then he dragged it out and totalled the face of a grandfather clock, before swinging at the photo frame with the 1994 South East Counties champion under-twelve hockey squad sitting inside it.

Mr Ashley steamed out of his office, but was so stunned at what he saw that he stopped as if he’d smacked an invisible wall.

‘Fahim,’ Yasmin shouted desperately as her son attacked the final cabinet, shattering the glass and taking out the wooden shelf inside. Half a dozen trophies and a rack of war medals clattered to the floor. ‘Are you crazy?’

‘What do I care?’ Fahim screamed, as the headmaster tried to grab him. ‘I’m treating this school the way it treated me.’

‘Give me that now, Hassam,’ Mr Ashley shouted.

‘Stick it up your arse,’ Fahim sneered. He grabbed the hose and squeezed the trigger.

The headmaster stumbled backwards and wrapped his arms over his face as clouds of white powder blasted him.

‘Please, Fahim,’ his mother shouted in despair.

She was tearful, which made Fahim feel bad, but he was livid about the way he’d been treated and he didn’t want to give the headmaster the satisfaction of catching him. As Mr Ashley erupted into a coughing fit, Fahim turned and sprinted up the main staircase.

The extinguisher was heavy, but rather than drop it Fahim launched it at the stained-glass window on the landing. There was a huge crashing sound as the extinguisher punched a hole in the leaded glass.

After climbing the rest of the stairs, Fahim turned into the main first-floor corridor, with classrooms on either side of him.

‘After the little bugger,’ the headmaster roared as he struggled to the top of the stairs. He couldn’t give chase because he was still coughing.

The long hallway had an echo and the headmaster’s voice attracted