Disclaimer: I do not own CHERUB

Chapter seven

The staff room was quieter than usual.

Gabrielle was reading a battered copy of Bill Bryson's The Life and Times of the Thunderbolt Kid, Shakeel was flipping through the sports section of 'The Sunday Times', Callum was playing Tetris on his iPod, Connor was marking a few essays, James was reading a magazine and Bruce was texting.

They all heard her heels.

Gwyneth was coming.

They were all staring at her when she walked in. Her confidence was back, no doubt about it. Her long hair was swept up into a business-like bun, and she was wearing a pair of grey skinny jeans with her white CHERUB t-shirt. A small black handbag was hung over her shoulder, and she was clutching a large cardboard box in her hands. Instead of the robust boots everyone else always wore, she was wearing four-inch stilettos.

"Can someone show me where my rooms are?" She asked, glancing down into her box.

No one answered her. She was met with angry, hate-filled looks from everyone.

"O…kay…" she said slowly, frowning, "I'll just go ask Niamh."

She went out and closed the door. Gabrielle's book, which had been flying towards Gwyneth's head, thumped against the wood and fell to the floor.

"What a bitch," Gabrielle fumed, standing up and walking over to collect her book.

"She just waltzed in here and expected to be treated with kindness," Connor shook his head angrily.

"I hate her," Bruce said, without looking up from his phone.

James thought of Kerry. Gwyneth was her friend. Well, she had been. He had no idea if they still were or not.

This was a complicated situation.

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Kerry was so tired, she was practically falling asleep.

She was driving through town to pick up Ada from school. Afterwards, she was going to take her to the cinema to see Shrek 9.

Her iPod chromatic was plugged into the VW's updated sound system, and was playing Death Cab for Cutie's I will follow you into the dark.

The song made Kerry think of James.

She was smiling like an idiot when, out of nowhere, the truck appeared.

It was barrelling along the road at an insane speed. It was on the wrong side of the road, and was coming straight towards her.

Kerry let out a tiny scream and was about to swerve off the road when she noticed all the people on the pavement. She'd kill at least one of them if she went off the road.

But she herself would almost certainly be killed if she stayed on the road.

Basic physics dictate that the force of a collision is increased if the two objects involved in the collision are travelling at a greater speed. Kerry slowed down and waited for the truck to hit her.

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James was running down the hospital corridor. He couldn't breathe. He couldn't think. His vision was clouded with red and he could barely see.

Intensive care. That's where the nurse had said she'd be.

James opened the door.

He shouldered past a middle-aged guy out of the way and slammed his hands down on the desk.

"I'm here to see Kerry Chang," he gasped.

"Who are you?" the nurse asked, frowning.

"I'm her…" James paused, unsure, "friend."

"Do you know where we can find a close family member?" the nurse asked gently.

"She doesn't have any family," James said, "just her adopted daughter Ada. She's five and – wait, is Ada ok?"

"She's being taken care of," the nurse looked at a clipboard, "by Kerry's neighbour."

"How is Kerry?" James asked desperately.

"I'll get her doctor in here. He'll talk with you," the nurse said, smiling sympathetically, "please take a seat."

James was shaking as he sat down on a plastic chair in the waiting area. All this was too familiar. He kept remembering the night his mother died.

It felt to James like he'd been waiting for hours when the doctor finally appeared. He was an old-ish man with a kind face and a grey moustache.

He looked grim.

"Are you the friend of Kerry Chang?" He asked gravely.

James stood up.

"Yes," he said quietly.

"We have much to discuss," the doctor said sadly, "come into my office."

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