CHERUB: The Sleepwalker - Robert Muchamore Page 0,1

know, putting the little red shirts to bed and reading them stories and stuff? But I enjoyed it, so I still go over there to help out and I get enough learning credits out of it that I don’t have to do stupid dance or drama lessons any more.’

‘Cool,’ Bethany smiled. ‘Though I’ve never understood what you’ve got against drama classes.’

Lauren tutted as Coral slid her hand in Lauren’s trouser pocket and shyly nuzzled her leg.

‘Drama’s so moronic,’ Lauren moaned. ‘Remember that time Mrs Dickerson had us waving our arms around pretending to be trees for a whole hour?’

Bethany laughed as she imitated the teacher’s voice. ‘Breathe deeeeeeep and feel your body move with the wind rushing through your branches.’

‘I wouldn’t mind so much, but you can’t breathe deep,’ Lauren said. ‘That drama studio has no windows and it always stinks of feet.’

The two girls laughed harder than the joke deserved, because it felt good being back together.

‘Coral, this is my friend, Bethany,’ Lauren said, as she pulled the little girl out from behind her legs. ‘Stop acting daft and say hello.’

Bethany squatted down and gave the tiny girl a smile.

‘Coral’s only been on campus a few days,’ Lauren explained. ‘Her big brother’s already rumbling with the other red shirts, but Coral’s a bit overwhelmed so I’m keeping an eye until she settles in.’

‘Hello Bethany,’ Coral said, as she reached out to shake hands.

Bethany noticed chips of Lauren’s black varnish on Coral’s fingernails as she took her little hand. ‘Aren’t you formal!’ she said. ‘Nice to meet you, Coral.’

Coral seemed less shy after the introductions. Lauren and Bethany each took one of her hands and stretched the youngster between them as they walked downhill towards the gathering in front of the vehicle workshop.

‘So what’s going on in the garage?’ Bethany asked.

‘It’s mainly about boys flexing their egos and getting grease on their overalls,’ Lauren said. ‘You can cut the testosterone down there with a knife.’

‘I see,’ Bethany said, though she clearly didn’t.

‘They retired a couple of the old golf buggies the staff use for getting around campus,’ Lauren continued. ‘But instead of scrapping them, Terry Campbell has been helping some of the boys convert them into racing carts by fitting motorbike engines. You know what James is like about anything even slightly to do with motorbikes? I’ve hardly seen him since we got back from summer hostel.’

‘And my brother’s involved too?’

Lauren nodded. ‘Jake’s part of James’ crew.’

With Coral still holding their hands, Lauren and Bethany eased between the crowd and stepped through the open front of the garage. There were two golf carts, each surrounded by boys in blue overalls.

The carts were dented and rusty after more than a decade of plying the paths around campus, but instead of being allowed to die with dignity, they’d had their batteries and electric motors stripped out and replaced by the engine and transmission from a motorbike and a selection of dubious accessories stuck on the outside. James’ team had added four sets of wing mirrors, gold paint and go-faster stripes.

‘What a heap of crap,’ Bethany said, making sure everyone heard as she stepped up to James Adams’ stocky legs, which poked from beneath the jacked-up buggy.

‘Hey, sis,’ Bethany’s eleven-year-old brother Jake said, as he turned away from a tool chest. ‘Did you bring me a prezzie?’

‘I’ve got three loads of dirty laundry you can have if you like,’ Bethany said, before giving him a brief hug. Like most siblings Jake and Bethany loved each other deep down, but in their case you needed a submarine with a powerful searchlight to get there.

James slid out from under the buggy and spoke to his three team-mates as he sat up. ‘I put a clamp and half a roll of sticky tape over the seals, so we shouldn’t have any more problems with oil pressure.’

‘I’m back, James,’ Bethany said, grinning and holding her arms out exuberantly. ‘Are you pleased to see me?’

James shook his head with contempt as he lifted up the buggy and kicked away the jacks, before lowering it to the ground. He was shocked at how different Bethany looked. She’d grown eight centimetres, she had much nicer boobs and the tan made her look more than thirteen. If she’d been a couple of years older she was the kind of girl he’d probably try getting off with.

‘You’ve certainly changed,’ James said, as he looked around and saw that the other two members of his crew – thirteen-year-olds Rat and Andy – practically