Название: Sorted!
Автор: Justin Richards
Издательство: HarperCollins
Жанр: Детская проза
isbn: 9780007347353
isbn:
Next to pass Alfie was a girl on a scooter. It was a push-along scooter with little tiny wheels. But welded on the back was a large jet motor and the girl was wearing a yellow crash helmet.
“Hi, Beth!” shouted Alfie above the whoosh of the engine as it sped erratically towards him. He moved to the left, but the scooter moved the same way—heading straight for him. Alfie jumped to the right—just as the scooter lunged that way too.
“No brakes!” Beth shouted as she screamed past. She narrowly missed Alfie and zigzagged her way towards the school gates up ahead.
The uniformed figure of Sergeant Custer, the school’s security guard, leaped out from his hut beside the armoured metal gates. He dragged them open just in time for Beth’s scooter to hurtle through.
As Alfie approached, Sergeant Custer saluted and smiled. “Morning, Alfie.”
“Good morning, Sergeant Custer.”
Alfie was just walking past the gates when the noise started. It was so sudden and so loud it made him jump. It was louder than the tank and Beth’s scooter put together.
“Woof! Woof!”
Alfie backed away. An enormous guard dog
was straining at a lead tied to Sergeant Custer’s hut, struggling to break free. It snarled and barked and snapped its huge jaws.
“Oy—quieten down!” Custer shouted at the dog. “It’s just because he likes you,” he assured Alfie.
“Right…” Alfie wasn’t convinced. He watched while Sergeant Custer calmed the dog down and managed to wrestle it back inside the hut.
“Sorry about that,” panted Custer as he staggered out again, “but he’s new to the team. Got to be a bit careful. He’s a savage beast, trained to take out the enemy like that: wham!” Custer demonstrated with a punch in the air. “Or rather, snap! Have your arm off as soon as look at you if he thinks you’re on the wrong side.”
“The wrong side of what?” asked Alfie.
Custer shrugged. “Don’t know. Didn’t ask. These gates maybe? But you’re inside now, so you should be safe from the fierce, highly trained killer guard dog.”
“That’s good,” said Alfie. “What’s his name?”
Sergeant Custer grinned with pride. “Gerald,” he said fondly.
The other children were already in their seats when Alfie arrived. Usually they were racing round and having fun, so Alfie guessed they were a bit nervous about the SATS exams too. Sam had his wheelchair close to his desk. The arms of the chair opened to reveal an impressive collection of pens, pencils, sharpeners, rulers, erasers and a small can of oil.
“For the exams,” he explained.
Alfie frowned. “We need oil for the exams? I haven’t got any.”
Oh no, he thought. I haven’t even started and I’ve already failed by not bringing the right equipment…
“No. One of my wheels gets squeaky,” explained Sam. Alfie breathed a sigh of relief.
“Don’t be nervous,” said Jack. “I’ve arranged a code with Sam so we can tell each other the answers by flashing torches.”
“That’s cheating,” declared Alice. “Anyway Miss Jones will see you.”
“She won’t see me,” Sam said. “I forgot my torch.”
“Are the tests hard?” Alfie asked, slightly nervously.
Chloe laughed. “They’re Level 3 SATS. Course they’re hard.”
“Don’t worry,” said Beth. “They won’t be that difficult.”
“Not for me they won’t,” declared Chloe. “My dad got me a Teach Yourself SATS program for my GameStation X. It’s called SATS In Lessons Learned Yourself.”
Alfie worked out the initial letters. “SATSILLY,” he said.
“Not as silly as you,” said Chloe crossly.
“I didn’t mean…” began Alfie, but Chloe had turned her back on him in a huff.
Good one, Alfie, he thought. As if she doesn’t hate you enough already…
Just then, Miss Jones arrived. Their class teacher was holding a bundle of plain brown envelopes.
“Right, I have your test papers here for the Special Agent Training Standards,” she said. “Each of you will be given a different paper specially chosen to test how you are getting on.”
“Bet mine’s the hardest,” Jack said.
“Not as difficult as mine,” sniffed Chloe.
“Everyone’s is equally difficult,” Miss Jones said as she handed them out. “Just different sorts of difficult, depending on what you’re good at.”
When everyone had a brown envelope, a pad of paper and a pen on the desk in front of them, Miss Jones told them they had one hour to do their best. “You should do the test in silence. If there’s anything you need to ask, you can put your hand up, but it really must be an emergency, something completely extraordinary that you genuinely can’t deal with yourself.”
The children opened the envelopes and took out their papers. They stared at them, puzzled. Then Harry grabbed his pen and started to write frantically. The others all raised their hands.
Miss Jones sent for Mr. Trenchard, the Head Teacher. Five minutes later, he was standing in front of Class 3D. None of them had even begun their SATS, apart from Harry, who was still scribbling away feverishly.
“What’s wrong?” Mr. Trenchard asked Miss Jones. “Why aren’t they writing? Slightly thick, are they?”
Miss Jones explained the problem: when the class had opened their envelopes, the papers they found inside were not their exam papers at all. “Without the proper question papers,” she concluded, “Class 3D can’t possibly do their SATS.”
“Sorry,” Mr. Trenchard said when she had finished. “Got a terrible memory. Trained myself to forget things you know. Can’t quite remember why, but it did seem very useful at the time. Now, what was it you were going to tell me?”
“You can’t expect me to answer this!” said Chloe indignantly, waving her exam paper. “It’s an advert for a holiday on a cruise ship.”
“I’ve got a leaflet about washing machines,” СКАЧАТЬ