The Lightning Catcher by Anne Cameron Page B

“I’ve got something for you.”
    He ducked behind the door and reappeared two seconds later with a brown paper bag.
    â€œJust in case you feel like throwing up all over one of our machines again,” he said, thrusting it toward Dougal. And Angus realized that it must have been Dougal who’d had an upset stomach on his tour of the experimental division. “Wait here while I fetch Catcher Sparks,” the lightning catcher added, slamming the door in their faces.
    â€œThey really know how to make you feel welcome around here, don’t they?” Dougal held the bag at arm’s length with a disgusted look on his face.
    The lightning catcher who came out to meet them a few minutes later was only marginally more friendly. Her long black hair was fastened tightly into a bun. She was dressed in a sturdy woolen shirt and matching leggings and a curious, close-fitting leather jacket—which looked tough enough to withstand a cannon blast. The jacket, which fell to her knees and had ten buckle fastenings up the front, had no sleeves or collar and was covered in stitched-up rips and tears, which looked like badly healed scars. There were six impressive lightning bolts pinned to her belt, Angus noticed as she stopped to consult a clipboard.
    â€œWhat’s that leather thing she’s wearing?” he whispered, leaning closer to Dougal so he wouldn’t be heard. Until now, almost everyone he’d seen had been wearing a shiny yellow weatherproof coat.
    â€œIt’s called a leather jerkin. It’s for protection,” said Dougal solemnly. “And in this place, you definitely need it, with machines and storms going bonkers all over the place. I wish they’d given us one as well, just in case we—”
    He stopped talking abruptly as the woman finally approached them with a stern look on her face.
    â€œI am Catcher Sparks, and I will be your master lightning catcher for the duration of your training here at Perilous,” she announced. “By choosing to become trainee lightning catchers, or lightning cubs, each of you has begun a difficult and dangerous journey, one that will test you to your limits. One that will show what you are truly made of.”
    She stared down her nose at Dougal, as if she was indeed trying to work out exactly what he was made of.
    â€œLightning cubs have been trained at Perilous since the first lightning catchers landed on this island. You are therefore following in the footsteps of some noble men and women. It is an honor and a privilege to work within these historic walls, and I will not tolerate any insolence, deliberate stupidity, or rule breaking under any circumstances, even those of a life-threatening nature. You, boy!” She suddenly jabbed a bony finger at Angus, and he noticed that his signed declaration was pinned to her clipboard. “Angus Von Dungbeetle, what was the most important thing you learned in the weather tunnel yesterday?”
    â€œI . . . um . . . that you should never stand too close to a coconut palm.” Angus said the first thing that came into his head, and then wished that he’d thought about it a bit harder first.
    Catcher Sparks, however, made no comment.
    â€œIndigo Midnight,” she said, consulting her clipboard. “I understand that you are keen to work in the Lightnarium, if you eventually get three lightning bolts or more in your final examinations?”
    â€œYes, miss,” said Indigo, in a barely audible whisper. “I want to work with lightning like the great Philip Starling himself.” She bit her lip as if worried that she might have said too much.
    â€œHmm. We shall see, Miss Midnight, we shall see.”
    Finally, Catcher Sparks turned her gaze to Dougal. “And you . . . are Dougal Dewsnap.”
    It was not a question. She glanced at the paper bag still clutched in his hand and gave him a withering stare.
    â€œYou will now follow me