White Ninja Read Online Free Page B

get braces too.
    â€˜Roxy!’ Cinnamon rests a hand on my shoulder to catch her breath. She has an energy drink in her other hand. Although her mum drops her off every morning, she gets breathless walking from the car to the gate. For casual clothes day, she is wearing baggy tracksuit pants and a loose pink kaftan. Her hair is as wild as ever, as though on fire.
    â€˜Hey! Nice tent!’ Hero yells at her as he walks through Gate One.
    Cinnamon tugs the bottom of her kaftan and doesn’t look up. Suddenly, I see her pants wriggle.
    â€˜What’s that?’ I point to her right pocket, but my hand has disappeared again. I shake it, but still it’s completely invisible. It’s my eye patch , I remind myself, and stuff my hand in my pocket before Cinnamon notices anything.
    â€˜Look,’ she says, her voice thick with hurt.
    I peer into her pocket and two yellow eyes stare up at me.
    â€˜Cute kitten,’ I say.
    â€˜Cute eye patch,’ Cinnamon replies without looking up. ‘Pirate chic,’ I say. Two pointed black ears poke up and she smiles.
    â€˜Mum and I found him on the highway on the way to school. She said I can keep him.’ Cinnamon’s voice becomes light again. ‘I’m going to call him Rescue.’
    â€˜How will you look after him at school?’ I ask.
    â€˜He fits in my pocket, and I’ll give him half my lunch. Mum thinks he’s still in the back seat.’ She looks down adoringly at the kitten, then surveys our surroundings. ‘Don’t tell,’ she pleads.
    â€˜I won’t,’ I promise.
    We both look through Gate Two. Hero and his friends have assembled at the other end of the drive. They love to start the day by taunting Gate Twoers. Hero is wearing fingerless gloves and a puffer jacket. Helooks taller today, as if he’s had a growth spurt. Great. Just what the world needs.
    â€˜I hate casual clothes day,’ I say. ‘Zigzag it?’
    Cinnamon and I have a few different gateway patterns that we alternate to avoid spit bombs. The older kids like to fill straws with chewed white paper, which they spit at Gate Twoers in hard, wet darts. The paper sticks like glue in your hair and to your clothes. Spit bombs are guaranteed on casual clothes day because the bullies know kids have gone to some trouble to look good.
    â€˜What are you waiting for, Sweat Queen?’ Hero yells.
    Cinnamon and I break away to opposite sides of the gate. Elecktra is surrounded by her friends, but glances over at me to eye the sweat patches under my arms that are ruining her T-shirt.
    â€˜On three,’ I say.
    â€˜Three!’ I yell.
    We run through the gate, crossing paths once then twice in a figure-eight motion. Today my feet feel light and I speed past Cinnamon. All the sugar she eats has made her slow. She’s clutching at her pocket to keep the kitten safe and heaves for air as she tries to keep up with me and not spill her energy drink.
    I’m too quick for the spit bombs and they miss me, speckling the path behind me, but Cinnamon cops it.Her red afro fills with white darts, like hail on a scarlet bush. Her eyes shine with tears.
    Hero and his friends laugh as we regain our composure inside the gate.
    â€˜Not here,’ I tell Cinnamon and she holds back her tears. ‘We’ll get him back one day.’
    â€˜How? We don’t have any friends here,’ she says. ‘We’ve got no backup.’ Her eyes moisten again.
    I take my eye patch off and fold it over her eye. ‘No crying,’ I say.
    â€˜Got any goggles?’ Cinnamon asks, wiping a tear from her unpatched eye.
    We laugh. I pick a spit bomb out of her hair. ‘It’s a good look — think of it as lucky fairy dust,’ I say.
    A heavy hand falls on Cinnamon’s backpack and her unpatched eye widens as she’s forcefully spun around.
    â€˜What’s in your pocket?’ Hero asks. His eyes are molten black. His