Robin Hood 2, Page 2

  Robin looked confused as he dragged a chair up next to Flash. ‘What’s a Run Fund?’

  ‘Runs are when bikers from all over the country meet up and party,’ Marion explained. ‘Bikers are usually broke, so my dad collects twenty quid a week from everyone in the gang. That way there’s money set aside for gas, hotels and bailing people out of jail.’

  Freya was shaking her head and gawping as she asked, ‘You stole savings from those mad bikers?’

  ‘Kind of . . .’ Flash admitted. ‘I’m good at poker. Those guys had to be cheating!’

  ‘He lost five thousand,’ Marion said dramatically. ‘Flash only made it out of the camp with all four limbs attached because our dad is gang leader and everyone respects him.’

  ‘It’s no big deal,’ Flash said, though his body language didn’t convince anyone. ‘I’m working on a scheme to pay everyone back.’

  Marion snorted. ‘With your massive brain . . .’

  ‘Shut up for once,’ Flash said irritably.

  Robin felt sorry for Flash, but Marion seemed determined to score points off her big brother.

  ‘You’re not even a good poker player,’ she teased. ‘I always beat you.’

  Flash lost his cool and reared up. ‘I let you win because you’re Little Miss Tantrum when you lose.’

  Marion was a sore loser, and Matt chimed in. ‘Marion started bawling last week when I kicked a football in her face.’

  Otto erupted with laughter as Marion skimmed a boiled potato across the table at Matt’s head. Robin thought the entire Maid clan was about to kick off, but Indio shocked everyone by lifting the big wooden salad bowl and banging it down hard.

  ‘Don’t you dare throw food, young lady!’ she yelled at Marion. ‘Can’t you lot be civil for the half-hour it takes to eat lunch?’

  Everything went awkwardly quiet. Just sounds of cutlery, as Robin grabbed a plate, then chunks of bread and a scoop of cheesy pasta. As he settled back to take his first mouthful, Robin felt Indio’s hands rest on his shoulders from behind. She had lots of big goth-style rings and leather bracelets.

  ‘Doing OK, pal?’ Indio asked.

  ‘Sorry ’bout your dad, Robin,’ Flash added, talking with his mouth full.

  Robin felt loved as he looked up at Indio, then at all the others around the table. Out of all the people in Sherwood Forest, he’d been lucky to get taken in by this lot.

  ‘I’ll live.’ Robin sighed. ‘I wish my dad had gotten off, but it would have been risky going to trial.’

  ‘More like suicidal,’ Freya said. ‘Gisborne has all the judges on his payroll.’

  ‘We’ll bring down that corrupt scumbag someday,’ Karma said, trying to brighten the mood.

  ‘Hear, hear!’ several people agreed.

  ‘And we’re here if you ever feel sad and want to talk,’ Indio said, before leaning in and giving Robin a kiss on the forehead.

  Robin was touched, but desperate not to look tearful in front of tough-guy Flash, with his filthy biker gear and giant muscles.

  Matt began a story from across the table. ‘I watched this documentary about Pelican Island,’ the nine-year-old said. ‘It’s the most brutal prison in the whole country. And, like, there are vicious bullies. If you’re weak, they steal your money and shoes. And they showed this fight, where this guy got his ear cut off and there was soooo much blood!’

  As Robin almost choked on cheesy pasta, Marion shot laser eyes at Matt.

  ‘Matt,’ she snapped. ‘If you’re not careful, I’ll make a documentary called Brother Gets Boot Up Backside for Being an Insensitive Dick.’

  Indio glowered at Matt. ‘And who let you watch a documentary where a man gets his ear chopped off?’

  ‘I . . .’ Matt spluttered. ‘YouTube. I clicked by accident . . .’

  As Matt continued to squirm, Flash spoke quietly to Robin.

  ‘Your old man’s got no worries. The bikers are one of the toughest gangs inside Pelican Island. My dad has sent word and Ardagh will be looked after. Practically a VIP.’

  Robin grinned with relief. ‘Really?’

  ‘Really,’ Flash agreed.

  4. SHE WOULDN’T, WOULD SHE?

  The viciously sharp throwing star in Clare Gisborne’s hand caught sunlight coming through the locker-lined hallway’s skylights. Maybe she didn’t have the guts to really hurt John, but he didn’t fancy sticking around to find out.

  Black school sneakers squealed on the floor as John shot up. He feared a metal spike in the back of his head as he bowled Clare’s goons out of the way. One tripped him up, but regretted it when John swung an elbow, catching him under the chin and knocking him cold.

  The second goon couldn’t match John once he was up to speed, but Clare was a lightning bolt. The bell signalling the end of lunch rang as she unleashed her third ninja star. John sensed it whistling through the air behind and dived forward.

  The blade skimmed his backpack at a narrow angle, making it ricochet up to the ceiling. The spinning metal smashed into a fluorescent light tube, showering John with glass shards and white phosphorous powder as he skidded along the floor.

  Clare had too much momentum to stop. She stumbled into John’s legs, slid into a bank of lockers and painfully smashed her shoulder into a drinking fountain. As Clare grabbed another ninja star and turned head over heels back onto her feet, John scrambled towards the staircase, passing the two gawping graffiti cleaners.

  John had matched Clare on the straight corridor, but she was nimbler on the stairs. He almost flattened a little Year Seven kid as he rounded the landing. Then, realising Clare was close enough to throw another star, he vaulted the metal stair rail and dropped two metres into Locksley High’s main entrance hall.

  It was now half a minute since the end-of-lunch bell. Kids were streaming up the ramp from the schoolyard and heading for their first afternoon lesson.

  Leaping the banister was genius. Clare was running too fast to copy John’s move, and by the time she reached the bottom of the stairs, he’d ducked into the purple mass of Locksley High polo shirts.

  ‘Move!’ Clare boomed at the kids in her way when she finally spotted John.

  But too many people were trying to get up the stairs, and John was moving swiftly and keeping low to disguise his height. Some smaller kids jumped out of Clare’s way, but one Year Thirteen girl didn’t like being bossed.

  ‘Do you know who my father is?’ Clare snarled, as the girl blocked her path.

  ‘We’re not scared of you, Gisborne,’ the girl said, hands on her hips.

  As several mates backed the older girl up, Clare noticed badges on her school shirt that read End Police Corruption NOW and Robin Hood Rules!

  ‘Nose in the air like Lady Muck,’ one of the girl’s friends added. ‘You’re nothing special.’

  Clare could no longer see Little John moving through the mass of backpacks and purple shirts, and this made her furious.

  ‘Just wait,’ Clare said. ‘See what the cops do to scum like you, with your spray paint and protest badges.’

  Kids pouring in from the yard stopped to watch the face-off at the bottom of the stairs, and bodies now gridlocked back to the main doors. A pair of teachers had arrived and were yelling at kids to keep moving and use the other staircases as they tried to wade through.

  When the teachers got close, Clare slipped the ninja star into the pocket of her shorts.

  ‘What’s going on here?’ one teacher yelled.

  Clare felt threatened and stepped back up to the stairs.

  ‘They won’t let me by,’ she said, putting on a good-girl voice.

  ‘Clare was going after Little John,’ a younger boy yelled. ‘Search her! She’s got some knife thing in her left pocket.’

  The surrounding kids jeered and shoved. The teachers weren’t strong enough to hold everyone off and Clare’s stomach churned as the crowd forced her back up the staircase.

  ‘Get to class, the lot of you!’ a third teacher on the scene
yelled, as he waved a blue pad of detention slips in the air. ‘Before I start writing names on these!’

  This threat was good at dispersing onlookers, but the older crowd at the bottom of the stairs didn’t budge. Two flights up, the pair of graffiti cleaners now had a clear view down at Clare on the first-floor balcony.

  One lad picked up his bucket.

  The other slowly shook his head. ‘We’ll be in so much trouble,’ he pleaded.

  ‘Clare bullied me every day in Year Three,’ the kid said bitterly. ‘Bent back my fingers and flushed my Avengers pencil case.’

  He tilted the bucket and let the cold, paint-stained water pour down on Clare Gisborne’s head. As Clare screamed and cheers erupted from the crowd, his friend figured, What the hell, and dumped his bucket too.

  5. SWIRL CAKE STITCH-UP

  Karma brought out a frosted raspberry swirl cake for dessert.

  ‘I should eat here more often,’ Flash told Robin, as the pair forgot their troubles and tucked into huge slices.

  Across the table, Matt and Otto wolfed down cake and dived out of their chairs with hamster cheeks. They’d almost escaped into the mall’s main arcade when Indio called them back.

  ‘Where do you two think you’re going?’

  ‘Play,’ Otto said. ‘Meeting the lads at the food court.’

  ‘Don’t think so,’ Indio said, pointing inside the den. ‘You know the rota. Go help Karma wash the dishes.’

  ‘Whaaaat!’ Matt complained, staggering backwards as if he’d been shot.

  ‘Are we slaves?’ Otto said. ‘What about my human rights?’

  Marion poked her tongue out as her brothers scraped their sneakers back inside the Maid family den.

  ‘I’ve got to go on reconnaissance,’ Indio told the table.

  ‘For what?’ Robin asked.

  ‘Besides feeding and stopping you kids from murdering each other, I’m the local leader of the Animal Freedom Militia,’ she explained. ‘Will Scarlock has had a tip-off from a source inside Sherwood Castle saying that Sheriff Marjorie is planning a major trophy hunt. We don’t know the exact date, but that truckload of zebras on Route 24 means it has to be soon.’

  ‘I saw that before the news about my dad,’ Robin said curiously. ‘Isn’t hunting in Sherwood dangerous?’

  ‘Sheriff’s guests don’t hunt in open forest,’ Indio explained. ‘There’s a ten-thousand-acre game reserve fenced off behind Sherwood Castle.’

  ‘It’s vile,’ Freya added. ‘They cram the reserve with exotic animals. Giraffes, zebras, big cats, ostriches. When I go fishing with Marion we eat everything we catch. But this is senseless. Hundreds of animals set loose so that rich people can shoot them for fun.’

  Robin nodded thoughtfully. ‘Those zebras on the news looked half dead.’

  ‘That’s typical,’ Freya sighed. ‘Sheriff Marjorie buys cheap animals from dodgy breeders, and conditions in the animal sheds at Sherwood Castle are cramped and filthy.’

  ‘So Freya and I are going to team up with a couple of Designer Outlet guards, head to the edge of the hunting grounds and launch a camera drone to see what’s going on inside,’ Indio said.

  Marion almost shot out of her seat. ‘When did we get a drone?’ she asked excitedly.

  ‘We’re borrowing one of the drones Will Scarlock uses to patrol the mall perimeter,’ Indio explained. ‘He wants to know what Sheriff Marjorie’s up to as much as we do.’

  ‘Why does Will care?’ Robin asked.

  Marion cut in. ‘Sheriff Marjorie wants to boot out refugees, put us Forest People in resettlement camps and use Sherwood Forest to earn fat profits. Everything Will has set up here at Designer Outlets makes life easier for the people she hates.’

  Indio nodded. ‘Sheriff Marjorie is an elected politician. She’d get horrible publicity if she sent her Castle Guards to clear a peaceful community out of this mall. But she’d boot us out in a heartbeat if she could get away with it.’

  ‘I’d like to see them try,’ Flash laughed, as toddler Finn climbed onto his lap. ‘Will’s guards are armed to the teeth!’

  ‘Can I come along?’ Robin asked hopefully. ‘I’ll be safe if you’ve got guards with you.’

  Freya kissed her teeth. ‘Everyone’s after the fat bounty on your head, Robbo,’ she said. ‘What use are two guards if a dozen bandits drop out of the trees?’

  Robin sighed. ‘But I’m so bored.’

  Indio smirked. ‘Don’t you and Marion have maths and history assignments?’

  Designer Outlets didn’t have a proper school or a qualified teacher, but parents banded together to torture their kids with homeschool courses and work groups in an abandoned bookshop.

  ‘My assignment’s almost done,’ Marion lied.

  ‘We don’t have to submit online until Monday,’ Robin added.

  ‘So neither of you has anything to do this afternoon?’ Indio asked.

  Marion smelled a trap and backtracked. ‘Actually, there is still quite a lot of work. Robin and me should probably knuckle down this afternoon . . .’

  Indio acted like she didn’t hear this. ‘When I met Will Scarlock to organise the drone, he mentioned that Unai needs help repairing cracks in the roof.’

  ‘Roofing!’ Marion squirmed. ‘Surely that’s not safe.’

  Indio laughed. ‘It’s the flat mall roof you’ve been running around on your whole life. And don’t be stroppy about it. I’m heading out with Freya, Karma needs to rest, and I’d be happier knowing that you and Robin aren’t bored and causing mischief.’

  ‘When did we ever cause mischief?’ Robin asked cheekily.

  ‘You cause plenty,’ Indio said, as she checked the time on her phone. ‘So, help clear the table, then get moving. Unai’s expecting you by the men’s shower block at half past.’

  6. PHYSICS CLASS HUBBUB

  Once Little John was certain he’d lost Clare, he swept floor dirt off his trousers and made a brisk walk to Physics class. With half the school watching the chaos in the main entrance, he was the first to arrive, though his books were still in his locker and Clare’s ninja star had left a huge gash in his backpack.

  When the rest of the class finally rolled in, they ignored Mr Kinnear’s pleas to settle down and surrounded Little John. There were even kids from other classes who wanted his side of the story.

  ‘Clare chased after me, that’s all,’ John said.

  ‘Did she have a knife?’ a girl said.

  Six people spoke at once as the gaggle pushed in and almost tilted John off his stool.

  ‘When the water hit Gisborne! I hope someone recorded it.’

  ‘They dropped paint. Her skin was orange!’

  ‘I almost felt sorry for Clare.’

  ‘Sorry? She broke Tina’s arm in soccer last year and got off cos of who her daddy is.’

  ‘Teachers at this school are a joke.’

  John hadn’t been around to see Clare’s fate. ‘The graffiti guys dumped water on her?’ he gasped.

  ‘Found a video online!’ someone shouted.

  John wanted to see the video, but he hated being the centre of attention and was relieved when Mr Kinnear waded in, clapping hands over his head.

  ‘If you are not in my class, leave! If you are, put your bum on a stool and get your books out.’

  He walked around, nudging kids towards seats or the exit.

  ‘I’m sure the events of this lunch hour were thrilling,’ Kinnear said, as he switched on a whiteboard filled with multicoloured equations, ‘but nothing compares to the wonder of physics!’

  Little John hadn’t made it to his locker, so he shared his neighbour’s textbook and wrote on scrap paper. But the class couldn’t switch off after all the excitement. The lab rattled with whispers, and loads of kids had phones out under desks.

  Just as Physics had finally lulled most students into a stupor, Deputy Head Mrs Bhattacharjee stepped into the classroom and spoke delicately.

  ‘Mr Kinnear, could I borrow John Hood
for a moment?’

  Bhattacharjee was tiny. She always dressed in bright colours, and her hot-pink heels made two clattering steps for each of Little John’s strides as they headed for the management-team offices.

  Bhattacharjee wasn’t one of the tough-nut teachers who dealt with older pupils, so Little John wasn’t surprised to find burly PE teacher Mr Barclay when they got to the deputy head’s office.

  ‘Sit!’ Barclay barked, pointing to a row of trashed sofa units along one side of the room. ‘What have you got to say for yourself?’

  Little John didn’t get into trouble often, but he’d been at Locksley High long enough to know that teachers like Barclay went to town if you didn’t stick up for yourself.

  ‘There’s CCTV in the upstairs hallway,’ John said, trying to sound more confident than he felt. ‘Watch the footage. There were three of them, one of me, and I didn’t start it.’

  Mr Barclay propped his bum on the edge of Mrs Bhattacharjee’s desk and scratched greying stubble.

  ‘All pupils involved in this incident will be dealt with,’ Mr Barclay began.

  John snorted contemptuously. Barclay pretended not to hear and kept talking.

  ‘The CCTV shows that you weren’t the instigator. But I have footage showing you flattening Sam Watson. He’s currently at the hospital with a suspected broken jaw.’

  ‘I didn’t mean that,’ John said.

  Mrs Bhattacharjee jumped in triumphantly. ‘So, you admit that you attacked Sam?’

  ‘Clare was throwing ninja stars and they were blocking me!’ John yelled back. ‘I know you want to pin this on me, because you’re too scared to call Guy Gisborne and say you’re excluding his daughter.

  ‘John, focus!’ Mr Barclay said, thumping on the desk. ‘This discussion is about your behaviour.’

  ‘I hope you can live with yourselves when Clare winds up killing someone,’ John said.

  ‘How other pupils are dealt with is none of your concern,’ Mrs Bhattacharjee said.

  ‘If nothing I say makes a difference, I’ll say nothing.’

  John mimed a zip over his mouth and slumped back on the sofa with folded arms.

  Mrs Bhattacharjee spoke stiffly. ‘You will be sent home until further notice. The Locksley High School management committee will make a decision regarding your future when it meets next week.’