Free New Guard (CHERUB) by Robert Muchamore

thirty quid cleaning a garage,’ he said. ‘I know this guy Trey who buys stolen shit. He’ll give us cash. Three hundred at least.’
    ‘But the cops’ll be looking for us, Oli. Best be off the street, yeah?’
    Before Oli got to answer, a battered Renault SUV squealed to a halt in a disabled bay across the street.
    ‘You thieving little shits,’ the man getting out shouted. He was a big guy, dressed in trackies and a paint-spattered hoodie. Even worse, a huge black Rottweiler jumped out behind on a lead. ‘Gimme the stuff back.’
    Oli froze for half a second, before realising that Leon was already running. The pair scrambled into the road to dodge a woman with three young kids.
    ‘You stop, now,’ the man shouted. ‘I’ll crack your heads.’
    Oli was solid, but he wasn’t in the best shape. ‘Wait up,’ he gasped, clutching his side as Leon streaked ahead.
    While Leon reached a main road and sprinted past Costa Coffee, Oli found the paint-spattered man and his excited dog closing to within a few metres. Realising that he couldn’t outrun his opponent, Oli scrambled through a gate and ripped a windmill ornament out of a neat front garden. It was made of plastic, but weighted with a concrete base.
    The big man overshot the gate, then a combination of leaves underfoot and the enthusiastic Rottweiler tugging on its leash sent him skidding into a painful set of splits. Oli was delighted for two seconds, between his pursuer’s agonised yell and the moment when he let go of the dog’s leash.
    ‘No!’ Oli yelled.
    The twelve-year-old lobbed the windmill, but it just glanced the eighty-kilo dog in the side. After thinking about doubling back towards the gate, Oli made a run at the hedge leading into the next garden. He got a good jump, and would have scrambled over if the Rottweiler hadn’t got a paw on his tracksuit bottoms, dragging him down on to the manicured lawn as a woman stuck her head out of the front door fifteen metres away.
    ‘Help me!’ Oli screamed, getting sprayed with saliva as the dog jumped on his chest, ripping off barks.
    He had no way of knowing that this was one of the CHERUB campus guard dogs, trained to bark and contain rather than maul. As the dog’s writhing weight smeared Oli into the damp grass, he caught a glance of the paint-strewn man struggling to his feet, only to get kicked – fake-kicked – dramatically down by a boy who’d sprinted in from across the road.
    Oli realised it was Daniel as the woman by the door ran inside to call the cops. After vaulting the gate, Daniel closed up behind the barking dog and snatched its leash. It took all his strength to haul it back, just long enough for Oli to roll free. As the dog turned to pounce on Daniel, the fourteen-year-old stumbled back and hooked the end of the leash over a fence post.
    ‘Move your butt,’ Daniel ordered, hitching Oli up by his trackies and throwing him over the hedge, before grabbing the laptop out of the churned-up lawn and making the dive himself.
    Oli was confused by the chain of events, but his pursuer appeared to be unconscious and Leon had doubled back and was waiting on the pavement as they exited through another front gate.
    ‘How slow are you?’ Leon jibed, as Daniel gave Oli a shove in the back.
    Muddy, shocked and with strings of dog spit in his face, Oli felt Daniel grab his neck and shove him forward. ‘The cops are gonna be here, start running.’
    Oli got dragged by the twins, feeling warm around his crotch and realising that some pee had leaked out when he thought the dog was about to bite.

13. FENCE
    The reality had been Oli snivelling and peeing his pants, but he’d rewritten the story before the mud dried on his clothes. The three boys were in a tatty chicken shop, with Cokes and a jumbo chips on the plastic table in between.
    ‘I almost made it, man,’ Oli smiled. ‘That massive pit bull grabbed me, but I was all ready to kick up with both feet. Cane that thing in the head, but the