CHERUB: Shadow Wave (14 page)

It was the fifty-second minute of the game. James Adams - aged thirteen - sat on a giant beanbag that usually lived upstairs in Kerry’s room. Kerry sat alongside, dressed in one of James’ old Arsenal shirts out of loyalty rather than because she was a fan. On James’ other side was fellow Arsenal nut Shakeel, while behind was a big group of United fans, including James’ mates Mo and Connor along with a bunch of older agents.

‘United!’ they chanted, before punching the air in unison.

‘Champions,’ the Arsenal fans shouted back.

‘We’re outplaying these Arsenal dicks,’ Mo said. ‘Cockneys have had all the luck.’

James overheard this and shot to his feet. ‘
We’ve
had the luck?’ he shouted indignantly. ‘What about Rooney? He should have been off before half-time if that ref didn’t have forty pounds of shit in his eyes.’

‘Piss off,’ Mo shouted. ‘It wasn’t even a foul.’

A couple of little lads standing behind James wearing Arsenal kits pulled the back of their tracksuit bottoms down and mooned the United fans.

‘United fans lick our bums,’ one of them shouted.

He was only about seven. Kerry put her hands over her face in shock and turned to Kyle.

‘How does football do it? Why do they act like that?’

Kyle laughed. ‘I’m only here because Ronaldo’s cute.’

‘He is,’ Kerry agreed, to James’ obvious irritation.

‘Arsenal have to be careful here,’
the commentator said gravely.
‘They may be ahead, but United are starting to take this game by the scruff of the neck.’

‘What do you know about football you bald git?’ Shakeel shouted to the commentator. ‘Come on you Gunners. Put another one in the net.’

James tutted as United took possession of the ball in midfield. Despite the bravado, he was chewing nervously on the cord that ran through his hood as he settled back on to Kerry’s big cushion.

‘Peanuts?’ Kerry asked.

The room had been laid out with bottles of soft drink and snacks in china bowls. James kept his eyes on the giant screen as he scooped nuts into his palm. Then he put three in his mouth and spat them straight out.

‘Bloody dry roasted,’ he moaned, looking accusingly at Kerry.

‘Well why don’t you look before shovelling them into your gob?’ she replied.

A cheer went up from the United fans as Ryan Giggs took possession of the ball in midfield and found space.

‘Close him down,’ James shouted desperately.

But the tackle came too late. Giggs passed to Ronaldo on the edge of the box. The ball ran on almost to the line, but as James thought it was going out for a goal kick, Ronaldo belted the ball past Arsenal goalkeeper Almunia and into the back of the net.

‘NO!’ James roared, burying his head in his hands as the United fans erupted in cheeers.

‘United! United!’

‘You’re not singing any more. You’re not singing any more, oi!’

And to the tune of Dean Martin’s
Volare,
‘Ronaldo, oh, oh, oh!’

‘You’re so lucky,’ James shouted. ‘There’s no skill shooting from that angle. It’s a pure fluke.’

‘United are right back in the game now,’
the commentator said. ‘And
the way they’re playing you just sense that they’re going to nick it. Whatever happens, Highbury stadium is on fire and the last thirty-five minutes of this game are going to be something really special.’

‘Just look at Ronaldo’s manly thighs,’ Kyle noted, as Arsenal prepared for the kick-off.

James was now in a foul mood and didn’t find Kyle funny. ‘If you don’t shut up, Kyle, I’m not gonna be responsible for—’

‘You’re bright red,’ Kerry said, grabbing James’ hand. ‘You look like you’re gonna have a heart attack.’

James gritted his teeth. ‘I
hate
United so much. Especially that jug-eared chav Rooney.’

Kyle coughed and cleared his throat. ‘Oh that’s rich, coming from someone dressed in Nikes, football shirt and a hoodie!’

‘That’s better,’ James said, applauding as Arsenal got hold of the ball and strung a few passes together. ‘Come on boys, let’s get back into this.’

‘Normal peanuts,’ Kerry said, as she held another bowl in front of James.

James had been going out with Kerry for almost five months. It was his first long-term relationship and he’d learned enough to know that even when you’re wound up in the middle of Arsenal vs United you still have to be nice to your girlfriend. He scooped up some peanuts and gave her a kiss.

‘I’m glad you came down,’ James said. ‘I know you don’t really like football.’

‘Hey, Kerry,’ Mo shouted, as he stretched out the Manchester United logo on his shirt. ‘You should come over here and kiss some real men.’

‘Real men,’ Kerry laughed. ‘What, are they hiding behind you or something?’

James and the rest of the Arsenal fans laughed and a couple of older lads gave Kerry high fives.

‘You tell ‘em girl.’

But the Arsenal fans’ moment of triumph was snatched as Ryan Giggs found space on the right.

‘Get the ball,’ James begged.

But as Almunia ran to the edge of his box, Giggs chipped the ball to the feet of Ronaldo, who fired another goal into the back of the net.

James’ jaw dropped as the United fans jumped into the air and started hugging each other.

‘Cristiano Ronaldo won’t turn twenty until Saturday, but he’s celebrating already. Two goals in four minutes for the young Portuguese striker, and the question is: is there any way back for the Gunners?’

‘Jesus,’ James screamed. ‘What was Almunia doing? Who was supposed to be marking Ronaldo? This is dog crap!’

‘Three, two!’ the United fans were chanting.

Kyle saw that James was set to fly off the handle and put a hand on his shoulder. ‘Don’t let them wind you up, mate,’ he said soothingly.

‘No coming back,’ Mo said. ‘Your dickless team is out of the match
and
the title race.’

James puffed out his chest and gave Mo a shove. A few of the other United fans saw and jostled forward, while the slightly smaller Arsenal contingent faced them off.

‘You wanna make a fight out of it?’ one of the Arsenal boys shouted.

Kerry spoke in James’ ear. ‘Back off. You’re making yourself look like an idiot.’

James was fired up, but there were a lot of older lads in both camps and he didn’t fancy getting sandwiched in a fight between them, so he backed off. Some staff who’d been watching the match over a beer at the rear of the hall had come forward to break the crowd apart.

‘Just a game, people,’ Mr Pike shouted. ‘Settle down, or we’ll switch the screen off.’

As the Arsenal and United fans retreated, Mo sucked air through his teeth. ‘That’s it James,’ he teased. ‘Back off like your little skank told you.’

‘I’ll stick your head through a wall if you call me that again,’ Kerry warned.

‘Three, two,’ someone else shouted, which was more than James could take.

He wasn’t brave or stupid enough to throw a punch, but he needed to vent somehow so he scooped the peanut bowl off the floor and lobbed its contents at Connor and Mo. One of the United fans instantly lobbed a Pringles tube back in the other direction, but the staff acted decisively.

‘Enough,’ Mr Pike shouted.

Three burly adults forced themselves between the rival supporters. At the same moment, James’ handler Meryl Spencer grabbed him by the back of his shirt.

‘What did I do?’ James protested, acting innocent as Meryl shoved him towards the exit at the back of the hall to cheers and clapping from the United fans.

‘You did enough,’ Meryl answered as she shoved James against the wall in the empty corridor that ran the length of the main building’s ground floor.

‘I never started it,’ James said indignantly. ‘That United lot have been winding us up all night.’

Meryl laughed. ‘And the Arsenal fans weren’t baiting anyone when you were ahead, were they?’ Then her voice turned serious. ‘There are seven- and eight-year-old red shirts in there. What would happen to them if bigger lads like you start throwing your weight about?’

James didn’t have an answer for this. He glowered, pouted and finally huffed, ‘Why single me out, they were all doing it?’

‘You threw those peanuts, which could have made things ten times worse.’

‘Everyone was having a go,’ James whinged.

Kyle came out of the hall and began pleading with Meryl. ‘They
were
really winding him up, Miss. Getting personal and that.’

‘Who was winding him up?’ Meryl asked. ‘What were they saying?’

Kyle had come out to defend James, but he drew the line at grassing someone else up. ‘Just all of the United fans.’

Meryl looked tired, and James could smell beer on her breath. He sensed that he might get off lightly if he acted sorry.

‘I didn’t think about the little kids,’ James said solemnly. ‘I’m really sorry. I swear it won’t happen again.’

Meryl didn’t seem entirely convinced as she turned towards Kyle. ‘Escort James up to his room, where he can calm down. James, you’re banned from watching matches on the big screen for the rest of the season and you’re docked two weeks’ pocket money.’

James nodded. ‘Yes miss. I’m sorry.’

But James’ contrition only lasted until Meryl had gone back to the match. He went into one as he stood waiting for the lift with Kyle.

‘Meryl’s such a bitch,’ James protested. ‘Two weeks. What was I doing that everyone else wasn’t doing? And bloody Mo. I’m tempted to go in his room and take a great big dump on his bed.’

Kyle sounded irritated as they stepped into the empty lift. ‘James, first of all it’s a
football
match. Second, Meryl was pretty fair considering that you almost started a riot. I’ve seen people get punishment laps and laundry duty for a
lot
less than what you just did.’

‘Take her side, why don’t you?’ James spat. ‘Everyone’s against me. And I
hate
Manchester bloody United so much. I wish their coach would crash on the motorway, or a nail bomb went off in their dressing room.’

‘Jesus Christ, James,’ Kyle laughed. ‘Calm down you psycho.’

But James was so furious that he punched the aluminium strip above the lift buttons and hurt his fist in the process.

‘Bollocks,’ James shouted, as he clutched his knuckles and screwed up his face in agony.

Kyle knew that James would go bananas if he saw him laughing, but he was struggling to keep a straight face and he bolted off down the corridor as soon as the lift doors opened.

‘What’s with you?’ James asked.

‘Gotta pee,’ Kyle lied.

James’ room was just across the hall, so when Kyle got to his room, he dived on to his bed, buried his face in his pillow and howled with laughter as his mind replayed James’ tantrum in the lift and the absolutely epic expression on his face when he’d hurt his hand.

He laughed even more as he heard James slamming his door, and crashing around in his room, slagging off Mo, Meryl and reserving his most special contempt for Cristiano Ronaldo.

When Kyle had his laughter under control, he looked at his bedside clock and saw that it was gone nine o’clock. He flipped on his TV to watch the last minutes of the game, but while he’d enjoyed the tribal atmosphere down in the hall, he wasn’t interested enough to give it his sole attention. Instead, he sat at his desk and tapped the space bar on his laptop to wake it up.

The only e-mail in his inbox was from his English teacher, warning him that his latest essay was below par and had to be rewritten before the end of the week. This was too depressing to contemplate, but as he walked away a Windows messenger speech bubble popped up in the corner of the screen:

Aizat FIGHT THE POWER says - ‘Hello!’

Life on CHERUB campus was hectic with lessons, training and missions plus all the social stuff. Kyle felt a twinge of guilt as he realised that he’d barely thought about the events in Malaysia since his return.

He opened up a chat window and typed a reply to Aizat.

BLUEMAN 69 says - Hello back. Howz life?

Aizat FIGHT THE POWER says - Pretty shit TBH

BLUEMAN 69 says - Wassup?

Aizat FIGHT THE POWER says - Everything. Stuck in the tin shed. Everyone here being sick, some kind of bug in the water supply. Grandma spent a week in hospital. And now Arsenal are losing to Man Utd.

BLUEMAN 69 says - Have you been doing much?

Aizat FIGHT THE POWER says - Did some work for the carpenter who used to buy fish from the village. Made door frames for Regency Plaza Hotel.

BLUEMAN 69 says - Sell out!

Aizat FIGHT THE POWER says - Exactly. But no choice. He pays me OK, but only casual work. No regular hours. Grandma had to sell necklace to buy antibiotics when Wati got sick.

BLUEMAN 69 says - V. sad.

Aizat FIGHT THE POWER says - Some of us at the camp are setting up a protest group. No big deal but you’ve got to try, haven’t you?

BLUEMAN 69 says - Anything I can do to help?

Aizat FIGHT THE POWER says - Ideas, money, publicity, books!!!!!!!!!!!

BLUEMAN 69 says - Publicity and ideas, I’ll have a think. Money, I’m a tight wad. Books, what books?

Aizat FIGHT THE POWER says - Political campaigns. Che Guevara. Guerrilla tactics.

BLUEMAN 69 says - Are you starting a campaign or a war?

Aizat FIGHT THE POWER says - Maybe both.

AAAAAAARGH!

BLUEMAN 69 says - What?

But Kyle knew because he heard James shouting and throwing something in his room across the hall.

Aizat FIGHT THE POWER says - O’Shea 89 minute. Arsenal 2 United 4. Hate United sooooooooooooo much.

BLUEMAN 69 says - You should meet my m8 James some time. You have much in common.

Aizat FIGHT THE POWER says - So can you send me some books? Or help at all? We’re just a bunch of hot heads with no ideas
☺

BLUEMAN 69 says - Guess so. But you scare me a bit. Don’t do anything crazy!

Aizat FIGHT THE POWER says - Don’t worry. I’m too good looking to go to prison. I’d get bummed!