CHERUB Fan Fiction: Part One

Far from home, in a bed in which she had no memory of falling asleep, Serena McAllister opened her eyes. Light flowed in from a large window on the wall beside her, illuminating an incongruously alien room. The sheets under which she was lying were white, and folded neatly at the end of the wooden-framed bed was a large, white towel. A door stood unlatched alongside the window and she could see a full bathroom beyond it. A small pine table stood adjacent to the bed, displaying a small, black, digital alarm clock reading 07:59

Busy as she was, absorbing her surroundings, Serena was oblivious to the fact that underneath the warm, comfortable bedcovers, she was completely naked. She noticed soon enough, however, and this observation was bewildering, to say the least. She rose slowly into a sitting position, sheets clasped to her bosom, racking her brains for information on how she came to be here, in this aberrantly queer room, in a place of which she knew nothing, but no relevant memory surfaced in her mind, and she was left feeling even more disoriented than Dorothy and Toto must have done at finding that they weren’t in Kansas anymore.

After a few moments of strenuous mind-searching, the puzzled preteen noticed a neat pile of clothes situated innocently atop the towel. The fashion of this clothing reminded her of an odd school uniform, not unlike the sort one would find at a military school. The orderly heap consisted of army-style cargo trousers a pair of black socks with the word CHERUB printed on the ankle, and an orange t-shirt with a logo – a winged baby wearing a World-War-II-style army helmet and a grenade belt, and holding a crossbow, ready to fire, sitting atop a globe with that same word, CHERUB, printed across it – not in a miniature version on the breast as a normal school uniform would have, but large and in directly in the middle of the shirt. Beneath the uniform were black undergarments that looked like they had been previously owned- the knickers were sprouting several strands of elastic from the waistband. She wrinkled her perfect, slightly freckled nose at the thought of wearing someone else’s underwear; that was just gross. On closer inspection, however, she noticed that the previous owner had, in fact, been herself, for she could see the initials S McA scribbled in a permanent black pen on the labels.

In the hope that she would, perhaps, feel better after a hot shower, she seized the towel and moved gracefully across the hardwood flooring and into the bathroom. The walls were made of white ceramic tiles, and the floor white vinyl, so it was understandable that the toilet, bath, sink and shower curtain were also white. The sink basin was set into a sort of table built into the wall. There was a large mirror straight across from it, and a medicine cabinet on either side. The left one proved empty, but she opened the one on the right to find a white plastic toothbrush; Colgate toothpaste; little, hotel-sized bottles of shampoo and conditioner; two unopened packets of soap; Dove deodorant; a small box of plasters; an unused shaving razor; a white hair-comb and a little container of dental floss.

She set the shampoo, conditioner, and soap on a little shelf protruding from the wall, switched on the power-shower and turned the temperature dial to a comfortable setting and, leaving the towel on the table, stepped under the steaming stream.

As she ran her fingers through her brown hair in an attempt to rid herself of unwanted conditioner, Serena tried as hard as she could to recall a memory – any memory – of how she had come to be here. The last thing she remembered was listening to Lemon Demon on full blast with Lauren Summers, her newfound friend and roommate at West Luton Foster Home for Girls, which might be described as the very shabbiest of shabby care homes.

Within fifteen minutes, she was clean as a whistle, and stepped out of the tub with a boost of consciousness, as opposed to the drowsy self she had been before showering. She wrapped the towel around her torso and tucked it in at the side, staring absently at the mirror and pulling the comb through her hair with ease. As she brushed her teeth with the spearmint paste in the medicine cabinet, Serena felt better physically, but the entire scenario was still exceptionally bizarre.

Enveloped in the large bath towel, with her clean, wet hair dampening the top of it, she ventured over to the window and peered out. Several storeys below, she could see a wide Astroturf pitch with children of ranging ages jogging around it, and two muscular adults drinking coffee by a deserted football pitch in the distance. Beyond this, for as far as her eyes would allow, was an immense forest of leafy trees in vibrant autumn colours- pink, red, brown and burnt orange contrasting beautifully against the chlorophyll in the evergreens at the forest’s edge. Whoever owned this site was clearly at least as wealthy as J.K. Rowling.

Considering that no other clothing was accessible, she wrapped her hair in the towel and dressed herself in the cargo pants and orange shirt, and pulled the socks on over her bare feet and stood up. As she faced the door, she felt a sudden burst of curiosity to see what was beyond it. She longed just to open that door and step out into the world that existed past it.

Tentatively, she walked over and stood before it; it was then that she noticed a pair of army-style combat boots placed in a convenient spot by the wall. Temporarily distracted, she slide her feet into the boots and laced them up. They fit perfectly. Now, in full CHERUB (and she had yet to discover the use for these initials) uniform, Serena McAllister pressed down on the handle, pulled open the door and marched over the threshold.

TO BE CONTINUED...