“Hurry up and sit down!” barked Miss Boot.
Bertie went to take his usual seat with his friends.
“Not there, slave!” said Royston. “You’re sitting next to me.”
“But that’s my seat, I always sit there,” protested Bertie.
“Not today,” said Royston. “You sit where you’re told.”
“BERTIE!” thundered Miss Boot. “Why are you still wandering around? Find a seat!”
Bertie slumped into the chair beside Royston. He’d been hoping to get away from him in lessons. Still, he just had to stick it out until four o’clock, then he’d have ten whole pounds to spend.
Miss Boot went round, handing out worksheets.
“We’ll begin with a maths test,” she said. “You have thirty minutes to finish. And I expect you all to work in total silence.”
Bertie groaned. He hated maths tests – the questions made his brain hurt. They were always about Peter, Susan and Nadia, who had eight sweets and added four and then took away three. Why couldn’t they just get on and eat them?
“Slave!” Royston hissed in his ear.
Bertie groaned. “What now?”
“What now, master?” Royston insisted.
“I’m trying to work!” said Bertie.
Royston slid his test paper across the desk.
“You can do mine,” he said. “I’m too tired to think about maths today.”
“WHAT? I can’t!” argued Bertie.
“Of course you can, that’s what slaves are for,” said Royston.
Bertie glanced up at Miss Boot, who had her eye on the class.
“We’ll get caught!” he whispered.
“Then I’ll say you were copying me,” said Royston. “Hurry up – and make sure you get a better mark than last time.”
Royston sat back in his seat. Bertie couldn’t believe it! How was he meant to do Royston’s test as well as his own? He had a good mind to chuck Royston’s paper in the bin. But that would put an end to their deal. He’d just have to work at double speed.
As the clock ticked, Bertie scribbled answers on Royston’s test paper, writing down the first thing that came into his head. If Royston came bottom of the class, that was his own fault, he thought. Finally he completed the last question – now to start on his own paper…
“Right, everyone put down your pens!” boomed Miss Boot. “Who has completed all the questions?”
A few hands went up – one of them was Royston’s.
“I have, Miss Boot!” he smirked.
“Excellent, Royston, and what about you, Bertie?” asked Miss Boot.
“Um, I made a start…” mumbled Bertie.
“Let me see,” said Miss Boot marching over.
“All you’ve written is your name!” she snapped. “Idling as usual! You can have extra maths homework tonight.”
Bertie glared at Royston, who wagged his finger and tutted.
“Oh dear, Bertie!” he jeered. “You never learn, do you?”
Bertie slaved for Royston all morning. At lunch Royston wanted his slave to wait on him at the table. Bertie was kept running back and forth to fetch salt, ketchup, napkins and a clean spoon. When he finally sat down to eat, his food had gone stone cold.
During the afternoon it poured with rain. Royston demanded to be sheltered under an umbrella while Bertie got soaked to the skin. By home time, Bertie was cold, wet, and sick and tired of being a slave. Still he’d done it – he’d made it to the end of the day and the reward was his!
“Ten pounds,” he said to Royston in the cloakroom. “You owe me.”
Royston checked his watch. “Actually the deal was until four o’clock,” he reminded Bertie. “Which means we still have a good half an hour of slaving left.”
He dumped his school bag at Bertie’s feet.
“Carry that home, slave,” he said. “And don’t drop it.”
Bertie counted to ten. He wanted to throw the bag at Royston’s big head. But he was so close to getting his hands on the money, he couldn’t give up now.
“You coming, Bertie?” asked Darren.
Bertie sighed. “Royston wants me to carry his bag home,” he said.
“Tell him to carry his own bag!” said Eugene.
“I can’t, not until four o’clock!”
Darren and Eugene shook their heads. They couldn’t believe Bertie was putting up with this!
They walked home together, taking the long way via Royston’s house. Bertie had to lug Royston’s bag as well as his own.
“It’s so useful having a slave,” Royston told Darren. “You really should try it some time.”
They stopped. They’d just turned into the alleyway that led to Royston’s road but a giant puddle blocked the way. It was about a dozen paces across and looked at least ankle deep.
“We’ll have to go round the other way,” said Eugene.
“I don’t think so,” said Royston, glancing at his watch. “It’ll take ages. We can get across.”
“How?” asked Bertie.
“Simple. You’ll just have to carry me,” replied Royston.
Bertie stared at him. “You are kidding?” he said.
“Like I told you, that’s what slaves are for,” said Royston smugly. “I’m not getting my shoes wet.”
“You’re not really going to carry him?” said Darren.
“Tell him to get lost,” advised Eugene.
Bertie looked at the wide brown puddle, then at Royston waiting to be carried across like royalty. All day he’d had to put up with that goofy face grinning at him. Well, no more, thought Bertie. There was only so much a person could take – even for a worm farm.
Royston climbed on to his back.
“Comfortable, your lordship?” said Bertie.
“Yes, and don’t forget my bag,” said Royston. “Come on, slave, giddy up!”
Bertie waded into the brown puddle, with Royston’s bag in one hand. The water was so deep it sloshed over his shoes and soaked his socks. Halfway across he suddenly came to a halt.
“I didn’t say stop!” shrieked Royston. “KEEP GOING!”
Bertie shook his head. “Ten pounds,” he said. “By your watch, time’s up, so hand it over.”
“MOVE, SLAVE!” ordered Royston, digging his heels into Bertie’s ribs.
Bertie didn’t budge. “It’s your last chance,” he warned Royston.
“Don’t answer back, and call me master!” shouted Royston, whacking Bertie on the shoulder.
That did it. Bertie let go of Royston’s legs.
“ARGHHH! I’M ALL WET!” Royston howled, landing on his back. “HELP ME UP, YOU STUPID SLAVE!”
Royston raised a hand, which Bertie ignored. He dropped Royston’s bag in the puddle with a splash.
“UGH! YOU… YOU…” cried Royston.
Bertie left Royston kicking his legs like a beetle on its back and returned to his friends.
“I think you can say goodbye to that ten pounds,” said Eugene.
Bertie shrugged. “I know … but I’ve waited all day to do that and it was worth every penny!”
Royston scrambled to his feet and squelched to the other side of the puddle.
He turned back, waved his fists and yelled, “I HATE YOU!”
Bertie bowed low. “And the same to you, your highness,” he said.
Copyright
STRIPES PUBLISHING
An imprint of Little Tiger Press
1 The Coda Centre, 189 Munster Road,
London SW6 6AW
First published as an ebook by Stripes Publishing in 2016
Characters created by David Roberts
Text copyright © Alan MacDonald, 2017
Illustrations copyright © David Roberts, 2017
eISBN: 978-1-84715-752-2
The right of Alan MacDonald and David Roberts to be identified as the author and illustrator of this work respectively has been asserted by them in accordance with the Copyright, Designs and Patents Act, 1988.
/> All rights reserved.
Apart from any use permitted under UK copyright law, this publication may only be reproduced, stored, or transmitted, in any forms, or by any means, with prior permission in writing of the publishers or, in the case of reprographic production, in accordance with the terms of licences issued by the Copyright Licensing Agency.
A CIP catalogue record for this book is available from the British Library.
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