Free The Lightning Catcher by Anne Cameron

fell, his glasses skittering across the floor.
    â€œHey, pick those up, you idiot!” He scrambled back onto his feet again.
    â€œI’m not touching anything that’s been on your head.” The twin mimicked Dougal’s voice cruelly. “Pick them up yourself, Four Eyes, so you can see my boots properly when you’re cleaning them. I’m serious, Dewsnap, you’d better do it—or else.”
    Both twins sniggered again, and Angus felt his temper boiling over. He scooped up the glasses before they got trodden on and handed them back to Dougal.
    â€œOr else what?” he said, pulling himself up to his full height, wishing he was at least six inches taller. “You heard what Dougal said. He’s going nowhere near your rotten boots.”
    A sudden hush descended. The other lightning cubs backed away, sensing trouble. The twins glared down at Angus with mean piggy eyes.
    â€œStay out of this, Doomsbury, it’s got nothing to do with you.”
    â€œMaybe.” Angus shrugged. “But I might just have another little chat with Principal Dark-Angel about it anyway. Plus I bet she’d be really interested to hear what you said about her being old and dribbling. She told me to pop up to her office any time I fancy a cup of tea,” he bluffed, feeling reckless. “And I’m feeling really thirsty right now, as a matter of fact. . . .”
    A flicker of doubt crossed the twin’s ugly face. “Have it your own way then, Doomsbury. But I’d watch my back from now if I were you,” he said, threatening Angus with a hairy-knuckled finger. “Next time it’ll be you sprawled across the floor, and your little friend Dewsnap might not be around to rescue you.”
    â€œLike we’re scared!” Dougal glowered as both twins turned and stomped off, looking uglier than ever.
    â€œWho are those two idiots?” Angus asked as soon as they were out of earshot.
    â€œPixie and Percival Vellum.”
    There was nothing remotely pixielike about either of them, Angus thought, staring over at the twins. Up until that moment he hadn’t even realized that one of them was a girl.
    â€œNot exactly friendly, are they?”
    â€œThey’ve been like that with everyone,” Dougal said, inspecting his glasses carefully and giving them a gentle wipe on his sweater. “Just because their dad works in the Lightnarium, they think they own the place. Pity they haven’t got a brain cell between them. A pair of chimps would make better trainee lightning catchers, if you ask me.”
    Angus grinned. “Are your glasses okay?”
    â€œThey’re not even twisted. Thanks,” Dougal added, turning pink with embarrassment.
    A moment later, the round door opened behind them, and Catcher Mint began ushering them, one at a time, into the mouth of the weather tunnel.
    Â 
    Inside, the tunnel was vast, with a hard stone floor and a high arched ceiling that was covered, Angus noticed as he climbed nervously through the entrance, in a network of copper pipes and large wooden paddles. One of the paddles began to spin in a clockwise direction and a light breeze started to ruffle his earmuffs. In the distance, he could also see a long row of freshly laundered sheets, towels, and stripy thermal underwear flapping on a washing line.
    â€œThe first section of the tunnel is devoted to wind,” Catcher Mint explained as soon as he’d sealed the door tightly behind them, “and is normally used for tornado training, hurricane suit testing, and the odd kite-flying competition. Today you will experience strong gale-force winds, measuring up to nine on the Beaufort wind scale, which will test the strength of the stitching on all your clothing. So make sure your coats are buttoned up tightly unless you want to find yourselves airborne.”
    The paddles above their heads began to gather momentum immediately, and before they’d made it