by Unknown
‘Sorry?’ said the first boy. ‘You fink that’s good enough, do ya, titch?’
Inchy didn’t reply.
‘He’s ignoring you, Jackson,’ said another boy.
‘Now that’s not very polite, is it? I fink you’ll ’ave to be punished,’ said the boy called Jackson. ‘Grab ’im, lads!’
Alex found himself pushed out of the way as Jackson’s cronies rushed forward and grabbed Inchy, pinning him to the ground.
‘Right!’ said Jackson, with an unpleasant leer. ‘Time for a toilet flushin’!’
It was then that House stepped in.
‘I think you should leave him alone.’
‘I’d listen to him if I were you,’ said Alex.
Jackson turned and walked towards House until his spotty nose was almost touching House’s.
‘An’ who’s going to make me?’
House simply stared back, his face dead calm.
‘Thought so,’ said Jackson. ‘All mouth an’ no action. Come on, lads, let’s soak the little drip.’
Alex knew that he really ought to step in before House did anything silly. But he didn’t. He recognized that the gang couldn’t afford to get labelled as prime targets for bullies on their first day. So instead he just grinned as he watched what happened next, more than a little thankful that House was on his side.
Jackson had only taken two steps towards Inchy before House had lifted the boy into the air by his ankles and started swinging him from left to right, like the pendulum on a clock. The boy’s head barely missed the ground.
‘Gerroff!’ screamed Jackson. ‘Put me down or you’re dead, you hear me? Dead!’
Alex nodded at Spit and they both turned to the boys holding Inchy.
‘Let him go,’ said Alex. ‘Or he lets your friend go.’
Jackson yelled out as House swung him higher. Spit arched an eyebrow.
‘Well?’
As one, the gang let go of Inchy and backed off.
‘You can put him down now,’ said Alex to House. ‘I think he’s probably had enough.’
House flipped Jackson the right way up and dumped him into a nearby puddle.
‘You’ll pay for this,’ he spluttered, staggering dizzily away. ‘Just you wait; you’ll all pay.’
‘I didn’t know you had it in you,’ said Spit, patting House on the back.
‘I’m training to be a Guardian Angel, remember?’
Spit looked at him.
‘And you learned all about swinging people around by their feet in lessons, did you?’
House grinned.
‘Nah. I made that bit up all by myself.’
‘You know,’ said Alex, grabbing House round the shoulders as they sauntered into the building, ‘perhaps this human school lark won’t be too bad after all…’
‘Do you think these pipes are supposed to make those sounds?’
Spit winced as a large duct above them let out a barrage of clanks and wheezes, releasing a choking cloud of dust into the air.
The inside of the school was, if possible, even more ramshackle than the outside, filled with long damp corridors, broken doors and cracked windows, as well as the rusty pipes that banged and rattled incessantly.
It had been a boring day of meeting new teachers, collecting books and getting lost in the shabby hallways. The only good thing had been that the school five‐a‐side football season was about to start and they had all been able to sign up to play together.
‘What’ve we got now?’ asked House as the gang arrived outside a classroom for their last lesson of the day.
‘Whatever it is, I hope we get out of it before this place falls down,’ said Inchy.
‘Or melts,’ added Cherry. ‘It’s so warm! What’s that about? And this room’s even hotter.’
‘It’s geography, I think,’ said Alex. ‘Perhaps we’re studying global warming!’
No one laughed.
‘Well, from what I’ve heard today,’ continued Alex, ‘it should be interesting, anyway.’
‘Why?’ asked Spit.
‘Well, apparently the teacher’s a bit nuts.’
‘Define “nuts”.’
‘Nuts is nuts, isn’t it? I think he’s called Dante.’
‘That’s Mr Dante,’ came a deep voice, ‘but I suggest you call me “sir”.’
Alex turned. The voice had come from a tall man at the front of the classroom. He looked, thought Alex, like someone built entirely out of burnt matchsticks: terribly thin and strangely twisted. His cheeks were sunken pools of grey, his eyes dark holes. Alex knew he was staring, but there was something about the teacher that meant he couldn’t turn away.
‘He heard you call him nuts,’ whispered Inchy.
‘You think I don’t know that?’ hissed Alex.
Dante curled a finger on his right hand, beckoning Alex towards him.
‘Can I just sit down?’ asked Alex, as the rest of the gang slipped into the room and quickly found themselves some seats.
‘In every way, no,’ said Dante in a voice like thick oil oozing from a walking scarecrow.
Alex swallowed hard and walked across to the front of the classroom. When he reached Dante’s side, he was struck by a strange acrid smell in the air, as if something burning had been put out with water.
‘Name?’ asked Dante, leaning in close to him.
‘Alex,’ said Alex.
‘Surname?’
Surname? thought Alex frantically. I haven’t got one!
‘Well?’
‘Er, it’s, um… Cloud.’
‘Cloud?’
‘Yeah, that’s it. Alex Cloud. Sir.’
‘Very well,’ said Dante. ‘A quick test, Cloud.’ He pulled down a map from an old‐fashioned roller attached to the ceiling. ‘Where is Bolivia?’
Alex had never even heard of Bolivia.
‘Um, is it in France?’
Dante sighed.
‘The Cape of Good Hope?’
Alex was silent.
With a tug, Dante sent the map rattling back up to the ceiling. He handed Alex a piece of chalk.
‘What’s this?’ asked Alex.
‘It’s chalk, you ignorant child. Used for writing on the blackboard.’ Dante pointed with one clawlike finger.
‘You’re still using a blackboard?’ Alex couldn’t believe it. ‘What is this – the Dark Ages?’
Dante smiled thinly. ‘Spell “globalization”.’
Alex glanced at his friends.
‘It’s not fair… We’re new and…’
His voice trailed off.
‘Life isn’t fair, I’m afraid, Cloud, so you’d better just get used to it. Now, draw a cross section of a river.’
Alex didn’t move.
‘Oh dear,’ sneered Dante. ‘Evans!’
Without a word, a terrified‐looking boy darted to the front of the classroom, wrote “Globalization” on the board, drew a cross section of a river, then ran back to his desk.
Dante leaned down towards Alex.
‘I’ve already heard about the trouble in the playground this morning, Cloud. I know your sort well…’
Alex doubted that very much, but managed to bite his tongue for once.
‘… and if this is the best you can do, I think you might find my lessons something of a struggle. So I suggest you keep your head down and your mouth shut – you don’t want to get on the wrong side of me.’
Before Alex could reply, Dante turned and strode off to his desk. Scurrying to the back of the classroom, Alex sat down next to House.
‘Great,’ he muttered. ‘This is just what we need – the teacher from Hell…’
4
Team Spirit
‘I don’t care what it takes,’ said House, ‘but I want out of this place. It sucks.’
‘Too right,’ said Cherry. ‘How long do you think Gabriel’s going to keep us here?’
‘Until we’re as old as Tabbris and twice as loopy,’ replied Spit darkly.
It w
as Friday afternoon. The week had flown by about as quickly as a dead chicken, and the gang were making their way towards the school fields, where Alex had booked one of the football pitches so they could have a knockabout. Just because they were stuck on Earth, at one of the worst schools in history, that didn’t mean they couldn’t do something they enjoyed.
House kicked moodily at the ball and it flew off into the distance, narrowly missing Cherry’s head.
‘Watch it!’
‘Sorry,’ said House, and ran off after the ball.
‘I’m amazed we ever won a match with him playing,’ sighed Spit.
‘And I’m amazed we still like you hanging around with us,’ said Alex. ‘I mean, do you practise at being so nice or does it just come naturally?’
Spit sneered and strolled off.
‘Why’s he being like that?’ asked Cherry, trotting up beside Alex. ‘He’s always grumpy, I know, but since we got here, he’s been getting worse and worse.’
Alex shrugged as Inchy and House joined them.
‘Earth life doesn’t agree with him. I think he’s still cross about being sent down.’
‘Well, we’re all in the same boat,’ snapped Cherry. ‘Besides, he may be in the High Flyers programme like you are, Alex, but it’s not like he actually wants to be an Archangel. So it doesn’t matter if he’s been sent down. Not like it does for you, anyway.’
Alex grimaced at the reminder. He’d always been unlikely to make Archangel – only the very best of the High Flyers managed that – but he’d always harboured a secret hope that he might. Getting suspended from Cloud Nine had probably scuppered any chance he’d had, though.
‘Right,’ said Alex, trying to forget his troubles for a moment. ‘With our unbeaten record, winning this school league should be a doddle, but it can’t hurt to get some practice in. We don’t want to lose our championship skills now, do we?’
‘Do you think it’ll be any different playing here?’ asked Cherry. ‘I mean, we haven’t got our wings for a start.’
‘Well,’ said Inchy, ‘that just means we’re not going to be able to use high defence and aerial attack. I’m sure we’ll be fine.’
‘So let’s get on with it, then!’ shouted Alex, clapping his hands. ‘We’ll play two‐on‐two, one in goal. OK?’
‘Well, it’s a plan,’ shrugged Spit.
‘I’ll go in goal; Inchy, you’re with Cherry; House, you’re with Spit.’
Spit gave a long‐suffering sigh.
‘Get used to it,’ said Alex. ‘We play as a team, we win as a team, get it? Right, let’s go!’
With that, House kicked off.
It didn’t take anyone long to realize that they weren’t very good.
‘I’m here!’ yelled Cherry as the ball flew miles past her for the seventh time. ‘Not over there!’
‘I know!’ retorted Inchy. ‘But the ball just feels different.’
‘Different?’ said Spit. ‘It’s like it weighs three times as much as normal.’
‘That’s because it does,’ said Alex. ‘Earth gravity’s different.’
‘Look out!’ came a cry and the ball whizzed between them, pinged off the crossbar and bounced away into the distance.
‘Sorry,’ called House, jogging past.
‘The ball’s heavier, so he’s kicking it even harder,’ said Cherry, shaking her head. ‘We’ll be lucky to get off the pitch alive if he keeps playing like that.’
‘What’s the score?’ asked Alex, trying to keep the team motivated.
‘Two all,’ said Spit.
House came charging back, dribbling the ball with an expression of furious concentration on his face.
‘Aerial it!’ yelled Alex, without thinking. The aerial attack had been one of the team’s most successful plays in the Cloud Nine championships.
Immediately, House chipped the ball high in the air and charged towards Spit.
‘Spring me!’ he shouted.
Automatically, Spit crouched down, joining his hands together ready to give House a leg up into the air, where he could smack the ball back down into the goal. House, his eye on the ball, thundered towards him, put his foot firmly into Spit’s linked hands, spread his wings and –
CRASH!
Without his wings to lift him, Big House’s enormous bulk flattened the dark‐haired angel into the mud. House himself was sent cartwheeling along the ground, knocking Alex, Cherry and Inchy over like ninepins, before thumping into a goalpost.
As they lay dazed, the sound of hysterical laughter split the air.
‘Who’s that?’ snarled Cherry.
House turned to see. ‘They look a bit familiar,’ he said morosely.
Sure enough, Jackson and the gang of bullies who’d pushed Inchy around on Monday morning stood on the sidelines, doubled up with laughter. One of the boys retrieved the ball, flicked it up on to his knee and bounced it half a dozen times, before heading it high, controlling it on his chest and whacking it into the back of the net.
‘Just you wait, losers. We’re The Black Crows – and you’re playing us in two weeks!’
With a rude gesture, the Black Crows sauntered off.
‘They’re going to murder us, aren’t they?’ said Inchy.
‘There’s nothing to be afraid of,’ replied House. ‘I’ll play in defence.’
‘I couldn’t think of anywhere better to field a Guardian Angel,’ smiled Alex. ‘Anyway, if we’re not playing them for two weeks, that’s more than long enough to get used to Earth conditions.’
‘You reckon?’ said Spit, his hands thrust deep in the pockets of his shorts. ‘Not only are they obviously better than us, but we’ve got House on our side. That’s enough to guarantee defeat.’
‘We’ve got to think positively.’
‘Right,’ retorted Spit, as the gang trooped despondently back to the changing rooms with the laughter of their opponents still ringing in their ears. ‘Think positively. That’ll help.’
5
Turning Up the Heat
Back at Cloud Nine, weekends had been fun. There were all sorts of activities that the gang were involved in. Cherry enjoyed her archery club, even if she was by far the worst shot out of all the Cherubs in her year; Inchy usually played chess or some other intelligent game; Alex and Spit usually found time for a one‐on‐one kickabout; and House looked forward to Sunday lunch.
This weekend had been rather different.
Saturday morning was spent polishing every single one of the 204 brass picture frames that decorated the walls of Tabbris’s house. At lunchtime, Tabbris inspected their work. Unimpressed by their polishing standards, he made the gang clean 117 of them again in the afternoon.
On Sunday, Alex tried to lighten the atmosphere at breakfast by pretending to find a frog in his porridge. Unfortunately, Tabbris didn’t see the funny side. Alex spent the rest of the day polishing the picture frames for a third time, while the rest of the gang washed and peeled vegetables for a cheerless dinner of cabbage and swede, which had an unpleasant effect on Big House’s digestive system – an effect that kept the gang awake most of the night, hanging out of the window in a desperate bid for fresh air.
Now it was Monday already, and the weekend felt like it had never really started. And all the horrible tasks and chores paled into insignificance compared to the prospect of another day at human school.
Capped off by geography with Mr Dante.
Alex scratched his head. ‘I swear it’s even hotter in here today.’
‘Why don’t weekends last forever?’ asked Cherry. ‘It’s as if we’re given loads of time to do the stuff we hate, and no time at all to do the stuff we love. It’s very unfair.’
Spit leaned forward over his desk.
‘It’s like what Dante said last week: life isn’t fair, so we’d better get used to it.’
‘Big fan of Dante’s now, are you?’ asked Cherry.
‘No, but he’s got a point.’
‘I agree,’ said Inchy. ‘I
f life was easy all the time we wouldn’t appreciate the really cool bits, would we? It’d all be the same. How boring’s that?’
‘What’s boring about everything being great?’ asked House.
Alex rolled his eyes.
‘What’s your favourite thing in the world, House?’
‘Chocolate cake. Thick, gooey, sticky chocolate cake, with thick, gooey, sticky icing.’
‘Well, once you’ve finished drooling, imagine eating it for every meal, every day, forever.’
‘What, the same cake, all the time?’
‘Yep.’
‘What about ice cream?’
‘Nope, just the cake.’
‘What about pies?’
‘Just the cake, House, that’s it.’
‘What about –’
Alex jumped in before House could speak.
‘There are no “what about”s! All you get is the cake. No ice cream, no pies, no sandwiches, no chips, no pizza, no pasta, no roast dinner. Just that cake.’
‘That’s rubbish!’
‘Exactly,’ said Spit. ‘Which is why I said Dante had a point.’
‘When was he talking about chocolate cake?’
Spit looked as if he was about to call House something very rude, but at that precise moment Dante strode into the room.
‘Cloud! To the front, if you would be so kind.’
Alex got to his feet warily. He couldn’t have done anything wrong yet – the lesson hadn’t even started.
‘Yes?’ said Alex, arriving at the front of the classroom.
‘Yes, what?’
‘Yes, Mr Dante?’
Dante’s smile slowly turned from a faint crease to a deep cut.
‘Another little test. To see if you’ve learned anything yet. What is the capital of Spain?’
‘Um…’
‘Come along, Cloud. We covered this on Thursday. It shouldn’t be too difficult.’
But it was. Alex’s mind was blank. All he could see before him was a sea of faces, staring. Whatever he had learned the week before had disappeared from his mind. He opened his mouth to say something, but only a dry gurgle came out.
‘Is that the best you can do?’
Alex couldn’t say yes or no. He couldn’t even nod or shake his head; he was frozen to the ground.
