Read CHERUB: Shadow Wave Online
Authors: Robert Muchamore
CHERUB: Shadow Wave (32 page)
‘Max has got untold crap in his backpack,’ Ryan said. ‘I mean, he’s had the same school bag for years and I don’t think he’s cleaned out once: snotty tissues, socks, leaky pens. It’s basically a biohazard. So he reaches down his bag and comes up with this shrunken old orange, about the size of a ping-pong ball. He throws it really hard at Kaitlyn.
‘She dives out of the way, tilts off her chair and bops her head on the desk behind her. The orange whizzes on. It hits the handle of the cup on Mr Bartlett’s desk. Max’s throw was so hard the dried-out orange explodes and the mug does this little pirouette before toppling over.
‘Earl Grey tea, almost a full cup. It goes
everywhere.
All over Bartlett’s paperwork, and the desk drawer’s open, so it’s running in there: hole punch, staple gun, calculators, whole pack of squared paper and exercise books. Bartlett comes back inside. Kaitlyn’s bawling and waving her arms around and totally milking it. Bartlett starts screaming at Max.’
Chloe and Grace were both into the story, and Ryan felt more relaxed. It was the first time he’d spoken to either of them since the macaroni incident six weeks earlier.
‘So Bartlett was venting steam, going ape,’ Ryan said. ‘He gives Max a hundred punishment laps and sends Kaitlyn off to first aid. Then he gets everyone to calm down, but I can’t stop. Like, I’m swallowing and trying to keep a straight face, but me and Alfie are wetting ourselves laughing. So Bartlett kicks us both into the corridor and gives us five kilometres of laps.’
‘Harsh,’ Grace said, as she topped each trifle off with aerosol cream and Maltesers. ‘Bartlett’s usually mellow. I can’t even remember him raising his voice.’
Ryan tipped more Pepsi on to the ice. Chloe put on a serious voice. ‘Well
I
don’t think it’s funny. Kaitlyn needed three stitches in her head.’
Ryan looked shocked. ‘Seriously? Max’s an idiot. He never knows when to stop.’
Chloe raised one eyebrow and burst out laughing. ‘Had you going there, Rybo.’
Ryan shook his head, then smiled with relief. ‘I was gonna
say.
Her head barely glanced the table. Gimme some Maltesers. Who’s the third trifle for?’
‘Not you, that’s for sure,’ Grace said, tipping brown balls into Ryan’s outstretched palm.
Ryan dropped six Maltesers in his gob and crunched as he grabbed his half-drunk Pepsi glass off the worktop and headed out.
‘Oi,’ Chloe shouted. ‘Where do you think you’re going?’
Ryan backed up to the kitchen doorway and saw Grace pointing at the Pepsi bottle.
‘What did your last servant die of?’ she asked. ‘Put it back in the fridge.’
Ryan stepped back grumpily. He was knackered and the girls had loads of stuff out on the worktop already.
‘Putting one bottle back’s hardly gonna kill you,’ Ryan said.
‘We might kill
you
if you don’t,’ Chloe said, as she jumped down off the cabinet. She was barefoot and Ryan’s eyes fixed on her painted toenails as he opened the fridge door and bent forwards to slot the Pepsi back inside the door.
If he’d looked the other way he might have seen Grace before she yanked the elastic of his shorts and fired a long blast of cream towards his butt crack.
‘Yuk, it’s all sweaty down there,’ Grace yelled, shielding her eyes as the aerosol whooshed.
Ryan tried backing out, but Chloe was pushing on the fridge door, wedging him in place until the can gave its last gasp.
‘Cameraphone, cameraphone!’ Grace said.
Chloe let go of the fridge as the empty can clanked against the floor tiles. As Ryan straightened up Grace smacked his bum, making the whipped cream explode out of his shorts. Then an iPhone camera flashed.
‘Psychos,’ Ryan shouted. ‘What was
that
for?’
‘The hell of it,’ Grace said.
The second photo was the best shot, showing Ryan’s face halfway between laughter and fury, with cream streaking out the bottom of his running shorts and dribbling down his thighs. The third showed Ryan lunging towards the iPhone, while Grace leaned into the frame with a mad grin and a double thumbs-up.
‘You wait,’ Ryan yelled, as he waddled towards his room like he’d crapped himself. ‘You’d both better watch your backs.’
‘We’re really scared, Rybo,’ Grace shouted, between howls of laughter.
They both knew he hated being called Rybo.
‘Rybo, Rybo, Ryboooooo!’ Chloe said, making it sound like a football chant.
Ryan slammed the door of his room and turned the key so the girls couldn’t get in.
If tough training and punishments were the downside of being a CHERUB agent, the bedrooms were the biggest perk. Ryan had a comfortable space, with a leather sofa and TV one side of the door and a mini fridge and microwave on the other. His bed was a double and a large desk with a laptop and schoolbooks on it stood by the window.
Not wanting the cream streaking down his legs to end up on his carpet, Ryan took three long strides and cut into his bathroom. Rather than mess up the floor, he stepped into his bath fully clothed: any gunk left in the tub would wash away when he turned the taps on.
Once his trainers were off, Ryan turned on the shower head. As the water got warm he stripped off, letting sweaty, cream-soaked clothes rinse in the swirling pool around the plughole.
His T-shirt was clingy and stuck halfway over his head when a phone started ringing.
‘Tits!’
There was a handset mounted on the wall beside his toilet. Ryan was in two minds about answering. It was probably Grace and Chloe on a wind-up, but could also be something important. He almost slipped as he reached over and stretched the curly-corded handset across the room.
‘Ryan, it’s Zara.’
Ryan jolted. The chairwoman only called individual agents for serious business, like an important mission, or the kind of trouble that earned punishments far graver than laps. It was hard to hear so he used a soggy-socked foot to turn off the shower.
‘What do you want?’ Ryan asked nervously, as his brain flipped through possibilities.
‘Just yourself,’ Zara said. ‘I’ve got two people down here who’d like to meet you.’
