Ade's Amazing Ade-ventures

  BATTLE

  OF THE

  CYBORG

  CAT

  To my mum Christianah and my late father Bola.

  They helped nurture my love of books and reading.

  Studio Press,

  An imprint of Kings Road Publishing

  Part of Bonnier Publishing

  The Plaza, 535 King’s Road,

  London, SW10 0SZ

  www.studiopressbooks.co.uk

  Copyright © Ade Adepitan 2018

  Written by Ade Adepitan

  Illustrated by David M. Buisán

  Designed by Janene Spencer

  Edited by Jasmine Richards

  All rights reserved. No part of this publication may be reproduced or transmitted in any form or by any means, electronic or mechanical, including photocopy, recording, or any information storage and retrieval system, without written permission in writing from the publisher.

  A CIP catalogue record for this book is available from the British Library.

  Paperback: 978-1-78741-325-2

  Ebook: 978-1-78741-415-0

  Studio Press is an imprint of Bonnier Publishing company

  www.bonnierpublishing.co.uk

  Hey, how are you doing? My name is Adedoyin Olayiwola Adepitan. I know what you’re thinking: That name must be worth a lot of points in a game of Scrabble! You’d be right. You may know me off the telly. I’m that guy who uses a wheelchair and is pretty good at basketball. I present quite a few shows, as well.

  My family call me Doyin, which is the second part of my first name. My mum calls me by my full name, but only when I’m in trouble. Most of my friends call me Ade – not like the end of the word ‘lemon-ade’. And not like the letters ‘A’, ‘D’ and DEFINITELY NOT EDDIE! But more like the sound ‘a’ and the letter ‘D’. Try it: A-dee! Got it.

  My book, Ade’s Amazing Ade-Ventures, is set in the 1980s. Okay, yeah, I know that’s a long time ago (no need to be cheeky now). The story is based on the time I moved to London with my family and started going to school here. The UK was very different back then; it was a time of interesting music, questionable fashion, severe haircuts (if you don’t believe me, have a look at some of your mum and dad’s old school pics) and, of course, it was when dad dancing was invented...

  Moving home can be very difficult. Moving to a completely different country to start a new life, well that’s just scary. Especially when you realise that some people in your new neighbourhood might not like you because you look different to them. On top of all that, I’d had polio as a baby, so I also had to wear a heavy iron brace called a caliper on my left leg, and ugly-looking hospital boots, just so I could walk. Hospital boots: great for putting in a heavy tackle on the football pitch, terrible for dancing and absolutely impossible not to stick out like a sore thumb whenever you’re wearing them!

  But you know what? The caliper is why my friends started to call me Cyborg Cat. Don’t know what a cyborg is? That’s okay. Keep reading and you’ll find out!

  CHAPTER 1

  QUEEN’S MARKET

  “Oi, why don’t you go back to your own country and take the little cripple boy with you?” These were the first words anyone had said to Ade and his parents since they left the airport. In fact, Ade thought, not daring to look over his shoulder, if you ignore the customs officer who only grunted hello, and the police officer who pointed to where the train station was, these are the first words any British person has ever said to us. Ade swallowed hard, the air here suddenly tasting very different from that back in Nigeria.

  “Don’t take any notice, Doyin,” Dad muttered.

  Mum’s jaw was tight. “Just keep walking.” She glanced over her shoulder. “Quickly. Keep walking. Quickly.”

  Dad didn’t hesitate; he scooped up Ade and put him on his shoulders. Then he picked up the suitcase once more and strode on.

  Ade knew he was small for a nine-year-old. But still. “Wait! I wanted to walk–” he broke off as he felt his father’s grip on him tighten and the metal of his caliper give a little squeak of protest as if also warning him to be quiet. It seemed to be saying, There’s danger nearby, shhh.

  Ade looked down at his mum and saw that she had moved in closer to his dad. They strode on past a few market stalls, keeping their heads down. Ade caught a glimpse of a sign that read Queen’s Market and could hear the call of traders selling everything from fruit, to fish, to trousers that they called Farahs.

  The colour, chaos, hustle and bustle of the busy market didn’t seem all that different to markets back home in Nigeria. If Ade hadn’t heard that mean, angry voice behind him, he’d be thinking how easy it would be in this new country. But I did hear that voice.

  As Ade and his parents came alongside a stall selling Jif and other bottles promising ‘the ultimate shine for your bathroom’, a group of men barged past them. Ade counted four in total and they stood in a line to block the way ahead. They all had very short hair and were wearing white T-shirts, braces, jeans and green jackets with Union Jack flags on them.

  The shortest one looked the meanest. He stared at them with bloodshot eyes and a smell rolled off him that made Ade’s nose sting. It reminded him of how his Uncle Lanre used to smell when he came back from a party. It was so strong that Ade put his finger under his nose.

  The short man didn’t like that and spat on the floor right by Dad’s feet.

  “Please,” said Ade’s father. “We don’t want any trouble. We just want to get to our house.”

  “Yeah, well we don’t want you or your type here,” shouted one of the other men. “So go back to your house in Bongo Bongo Land.”

  The men all laughed at that, but it wasn’t a funny, happy laugh. To Ade, they sounded like dogs being strangled. Where is this Bongo Bongo Land? he wondered. Had his parents bought a house there without telling him? They should have discussed it with me. I’ll be 10 next year.

  “And we don’t want stupid cripples here, either,” said the man at the front.

  Stupid cripple? Ade tried to get his head around that. I wear a caliper that supports my leg but that doesn’t make me a cripple and it doesn’t make me stupid.

  Ade was scared but he also had to know why this man, who had never met him before, thought he was stupid.

  His mum was quicker. She stepped forwards and looked right into the man’s bloodshot eyes and shouted, “He’s not a stupid cripple!”

  Mum’s back was as straight as a ruler and she was so angry she was shaking. Back home, when Mum got angry people were scared of her, but that wasn’t happening with these men. They just seemed to think it was very funny and started laughing that horrible laugh again.

  The market around them had fallen silent. There was no more hustle and bustle. The other market traders and shoppers were all looking over in their direction. All those eyes watching them made Ade feel like they were on display or something.

  Looking around, Ade’s gaze met with one of the traders, a big man wearing a funny-looking checked hat. He looked upset. Then help us, Ade thought. His heart was beating so fast he thought it might burst out of his chest.

  The trader took a step forwards, but one of the men, the tallest one, screwed up his face and pointed a finger towards the guy’s face. “Don’t even think about it!” he snarled.

  The trader and everybody around him quickly looked away and carried on as if nothing had happened. Ade didn’t think it was possible, but his heart started to beat even faster.

  The four men laughed again, but a moment later they stopped and the one at the front with the smelly breath looked at Ade’s father, his eyes full of hatred and menace.

  “Right,” he said. “I’m going to give you five seconds to turn round and get out of her
e.” He patted his jacket pocket. “Or else.”

  “One.”

  “Two.”

  “Come on.” Mum’s voice trembled. “We’ll find another way.”

  “Three.”

  Mum tugged on Dad’s arm. “Come on.”

  “Four.”

  Ade’s father stared at the man, refusing to look away. “We’re going,” he said. Then they turned round and walked out of the market the way they’d come, the sound of the men’s laughter ringing in their ears.

  CHAPTER 2

  NOT A GREAT BREAKFAST

  There’s never a good time to be given bad news, but nine o’clock in the morning, when you’re hungrily shovelling a large spoonful of Sugar Puffs and warm milk into your mouth, is definitely one of the worst times.

  “Oh, by the way, Doyin, we’re going to have a party tomorrow to celebrate our arrival in England. It’s been a few weeks now and we have a lot to give thanks for.”

  Unfortunately for Ade, he’d already put the cereal in his mouth so, “Mmmm, whhuuummm dufff dooossshhhaaa,” was the only response he could manage.

  “Oh good, I know how much you like a party,” Mum said. “I’ve invited all your cousins, aunties and uncles, and our family friends as well.” She smiled. “We can all get dressed up.”

  “No! No, we can’t,” Ade said in a spray of Sugar Puffs. He imagined himself in a pair of loose-fitting trousers and an oversized but ornate-looking shirt. “People don’t wear sokoto and agbada here.”

  His mum frowned. “Ade, it’s a party. Our party. We need to look good. Anyway, I’ve already picked your outfit.”

  Ade groaned inwardly. Nigerian traditional dress came in all sorts of patterns and he knew his mum wasn’t interested in the bland, boring styles. She had what you could call a very interesting dress sense, though another way of describing it might be an outrageous, completely over the top, what on earth is she thinking, dress sense. She always chose the brightest and loudest colours for Ade to wear.

  “Okay, fine,” Ade sighed. “I guess it’s just family anyway. I’ll stay inside.”

  Mum waved a hand. “Well yes, them and those young boys we saw playing football on our street last week.”

  Ade felt the spoon slip from his fingers. It clattered to the floor. “Mum! Why did you do that? We don’t even know them!”

  “Doyin.” Mum was chuckling and Ade could tell that she thought he was overreacting. “It’s important for you to make new friends. You love playing football and so do they. Everything’s going to be fine.”

  “It’s not going to be fine!” Ade shouted, his cheeks getting hot and his eyes stinging with tears. “They’re going to think I’m weird and laugh at me.”

  Before his mum could say anything else, he hopped down from the table, thudded up to his room and slammed the door shut.

  Ade threw himself on his bed, his face buried in his pillow. His mum didn’t get it. After what happened in Queen’s Market, Ade had decided that the best thing he could do was to keep as quiet as possible and not draw any attention to himself. If no one can see you or hear you, then they can’t be nasty to you, he’d decided. I’ll just stay in my room, with my action figures and X-Men comics all summer. And if I do have to leave the house I’ll wear a hat and make sure my caliper is covered up.

  Ade’s plan was working well so far. Since that day in the market there hadn’t been any more problems with nasty, smelly men, but parties were big and noisy and full of people, which was exactly the sort of thing that would draw attention to Ade and his family. And Nigerian parties were the biggest and the noisiest of them all.

  Ade heard footsteps on the stairs and quickly dived under his covers.

  “Hmm, I wonder where Doyin could be?” Mum said as the door clicked open.

  Ade said nothing and lay as still as he could.

  “Oh well,” Mum went on, “I’ll just have to sit on the end of the bed. Sit RIGHT HERE and wait till he comes back.”

  What? Ade didn’t fancy getting squished beneath her bottom and so swiftly crawled up through the blankets and emerged into the daylight.

  “Oh, there you are, Doyin.” Mum sat down next to him and gave him a hug.

  In return, Ade snivelled and felt a little embarrassed because his tears had taken even him by surprise.

  His mother gently kissed his forehead and said softly, “Don’t cry Doyin, why would those boys laugh at you?”

  “Maybe because of my caliper?” And because it makes me look like C3PO from Star Wars but with chewing gum stuck to the bottom of my left foot.

  She shook her head. “When they see how talented, intelligent and handsome you are they will love you, not laugh at you.”

  She pinched his cheeks and stared down at him with her big bright eyes. She had a way of making him feel better with one look, but he still didn’t believe her.

  CHAPTER 3

  PLANS A, B, C AND D

  It was the day of the party and his mum had been cooking all morning. She’d even sent Dad out for more food. Sniffing the air, Ade could tell she was cooking all his favourite dishes: fried plantain, chicken and his much-loved moi moi – a steamed bean pudding that had no business tasting as good as it did considering it was made of beans! That much food meant an awful lot of people.

  Including the boys from my street, Ade reminded himself. He rested his head against the kitchen table. This is going to be a disaster.

  “Oh Doyin, don’t look so sad.” Ade’s father staggered into the kitchen and put down the heavy shopping. “Do you want some jelly?”

  Before Ade had a chance to react, Dad swept him up into the air.

  “No Dad, not the jelly hands,” Ade squealed. But it was too late. Dad made his hands go all wobbly like jelly and tickled him. Ade couldn’t help but laugh until tears ran down his cheeks, but afterwards, when they were both tired and lying on the floor, Ade started thinking about the party again and he felt knots tightening in his stomach.

  Then Dad went and made things even worse. “I can’t wait for the party to start.” He jumped to his feet. “I’m going to show everyone my best dance moves!”

  Ade looked at Mum. They both knew what was coming next.

  “Oh yeah, who’s the daddy?!” Dad said as he moved to the centre of the room. He started making weird high-pitched noises, stamping his feet and flailing his arms about wildly in what he probably thought were some of his best dance moves, but, by anyone else’s standards, would probably have been their worst.

  As he gyrated, he clattered into some pots and pans. Then he bumped into a chair and fell on it. Almost in one motion, whilst landing on the chair, he placed his right leg over his left and sat upright with folded arms. He gave Ade and Mum a knowing look, like falling in the chair was part of the move. He nearly pulled it off, as well, until a saucepan that had been resting precariously on the shelf behind him wobbled and fell off. It landed on the top of Dad’s neatly combed Afro with a BONG.

  Ade covered his face with his hands. There’s only one thing for it, he thought. I have to get this party cancelled.

  * * *

  “I see, sir, so you would like one hundred mice delivered to your house this afternoon?”

  Ade was on the phone to the local pet shop, Petty Minded. He’d found their number in something called The Phone Book, which was basically the biggest book in the world full of page after page after page of phone numbers. Ade couldn’t understand why anyone would want to read a book like that, but on page 1437 he’d found the number and dialled it.

  The idea was simple: scatter the mice all over the house. Mum and Dad would think that all the food they’d been cooking had attracted them and they were now overrun with the creatures. No one would want to come to a house infested with mice, so they’d definitely have to cancel the party.

  Ade had put on the deepest voice he could to speak to the man in the shop and so far it seemed to be working.

  “Yes, that’s right,” he said.

  “Very good,” said
the man. “Could I take an address for the delivery, please?”

  “I live at 4 Parsons Road in Plaistow,” Ade said proudly. His parents had made him learn the address off by heart almost as soon as they’d moved in, just in case he ever got lost and had to tell someone where he lived.

  “Thank you, sir,” said the man. “So that’s one hundred mice, plus delivery charge. That will be forty pounds exactly. Will that be cash or cheque?”

  Uh-oh, Ade thought as he realised the major flaw in his otherwise perfect plan. I have no money.

  “Erm, I, erm, I’ve changed my mind,” he said quickly. “And I need to go to the toilet. Bye.”

  Nice work. Ade shook his head. Especially the toilet detail. Nope, I don’t think I’ll be visiting Petty Minded any time soon. Or ever, for that matter.

  * * *

  Luckily, Ade’s second plan was much simpler and, most importantly, didn’t involve him having to phone anyone or spend money.

  You can’t have a party without music, Ade mused. All I have to do is get rid of all my parents’ records. He nodded to himself. Easy-peasy. Just don’t get caught. I’ll be like a cat burglar trying to steal the Crown Jewels.

  Very quietly and very slowly, he crept downstairs and into the front room. He could hear Mum and Dad in the kitchen, chatting and joking, which was actually very helpful. His dad had a really loud voice, so they were even less likely to hear him.

  Ade stopped in front of his parents’ record collection. There seemed to be a lot more records than he remembered. He’d planned to take them up to his room, one by one, and hide them under the bed, but the party would be over before he’d removed half of them.

  Ade shrugged, grabbed a bunch and sneaked out of the room as quietly as he could. He was halfway up the stairs, when three of the records escaped from their sleeves and made a run for it.

  Two of the records flopped down a couple of steps and stopped. The third record had other ideas. Big ideas. It bounced down all the steps like a spinning wheel then carried on along the corridor. “Come back,” whispered Ade. “Please.” But the record didn’t listen. It went straight through the door and into the kitchen.