Adam Baron - Boy Underwater

First published in Great Britain by HarperCollins Children’s Books in 2018

Published in this ebook edition in 2018

HarperCollins Children’s Books is a division of HarperCollins Publishers Ltd,

HarperCollins Publishers

1 London Bridge Street

London SE1 9GF

The HarperCollins Children’s Books website address is

www.harpercollins.co.uk

Text copyright © Adam Baron 2018

Illustrations copyright © Benji Davies 2018

Cover and interior illustrations copyright © Benji Davies

Adam Baron and Benji Davies assert the moral right to be identified as the author and illustrator of the work.

A catalogue copy of this book is available from the British Library.

All rights reserved under International and Pan-American Copyright Conventions. By payment of the required fees, you have been granted the non-exclusive, non-transferable right to access and read the text of this ebook onscreen. No part of this text may be reproduced, transmitted, downloaded, decompiled, reverse engineered, or stored in or introduced into any information storage and retrieval system, in any form or by any means, whether electronic or mechanical, now known or hereinafter invented, without the express written permission of HarperCollins.

Source ISBN: 9780008267018

Ebook Edition © 2018 ISBN: 9780008267025

Version: 2018-06-04

Almost all of this novel is dedicated to

Ben and Ollie Robinson.

The first line of page thirty-eight is

for their parents, though.

Contents

Cover

Title Page

Copyright First published in Great Britain by HarperCollins Children’s Books in 2018 Published in this ebook edition in 2018 HarperCollins Children’s Books is a division of HarperCollins Publishers Ltd, HarperCollins Publishers 1 London Bridge Street London SE1 9GF The HarperCollins Children’s Books website address is www.harpercollins.co.uk Text copyright © Adam Baron 2018 Illustrations copyright © Benji Davies 2018 Cover and interior illustrations copyright © Benji Davies Adam Baron and Benji Davies assert the moral right to be identified as the author and illustrator of the work. A catalogue copy of this book is available from the British Library. All rights reserved under International and Pan-American Copyright Conventions. By payment of the required fees, you have been granted the non-exclusive, non-transferable right to access and read the text of this ebook onscreen. No part of this text may be reproduced, transmitted, downloaded, decompiled, reverse engineered, or stored in or introduced into any information storage and retrieval system, in any form or by any means, whether electronic or mechanical, now known or hereinafter invented, without the express written permission of HarperCollins. Source ISBN: 9780008267018 Ebook Edition © 2018 ISBN: 9780008267025 Version: 2018-06-04

Dedication Almost all of this novel is dedicated to Ben and Ollie Robinson. The first line of page thirty-eight is for their parents, though.

Chapter One

Chapter Two

Chapter Three

Chapter Four

Chapter Five

Chapter Six

Chapter Seven

Chapter Eight

Chapter Nine

Chapter Ten

Chapter Eleven

Chapter Twelve

Chapter Thirteen

Chapter Fourteen

Chapter Fifteen

Chapter Sixteen

Chapter Seventeen

Chapter Eighteen

Chapter Nineteen

Chapter Twenty

Chapter Twenty-One

Chapter Twenty-Two

Chapter Twenty-Three

Chapter Twenty-Four

Chapter Twenty-Five

Chapter Twenty-Six

Chapter Twenty-Seven

Chapter Twenty-Eight

Oh no – wait.

About the Publisher

Here’s something you won’t believe.

I, Cymbeline Igloo, have never been swimming.

It’s the swimming bit you won’t believe, by the way, though if you don’t believe my name either, it really is Cymbeline Igloo, and you have to believe that because it’s written on my schoolbag and in my jumpers and on lots of other things, like my passport. You won’t believe I’ve never been swimming because I mean totally never. Not ever . Not once, in my whole life. I am nine years old! I am the third-best footballer in Year 4 (joint) and the second-best at roller-skating after Elizabeth Fisher and she goes to a club on Sundays. I am fit and healthy and totally normal in every way (apart from my name) but I have never set foot in the sea, a river or a lake, not to mention an actual, normal, everyday swimming pool.

Not in my life.

Until last Monday.

I blame my mum. Totally. She’s just never taken me. Not as a baby, not as a toddler, not when I was at nursery or when I was in Key Stage One. When I’ve asked why, she’s come up with rubbish excuse after even more rubbish excuse. We don’t go to the beach because she’s allergic to sand. Rivers, she says , are where crocodiles live (we live in south-east London). Lakes, she tells me, are like lochs, which could contain things like the Loch Ness monster, which is so dangerous (not) that no one has ever actually SEEN IT (sorry, Scotland, but it’s true: your monster is rubbish).

As for swimming pools, chlorine (what’s that?) can make you itchy and you often find clumps of other people’s hair in swimming pools and some of it doesn’t come from their heads but from other places .

That last bit is actually the most convincing argument for staying away from the whole swimming thing, though it’s still not good enough and Mum SHOULD HAVE TAKEN ME. This is something that was made spectacularly clear last Monday when something happened that I can only describe as …

‘ Line up, everyone. Chop-chop, hurry along now. ’

That was Miss Phillips. Last Monday . Before I tell you about her, though, I think I’d better answer a question that has probably popped up in your head like toast. Surely, I hear you think, if my mum refused to take me swimming, then my dad could have taken me instead. I sometimes forget that most people have two parents, something you mostly only ever really see at parents’ evening, or the school play. A mum and, next to her, a dad. Looking bored or checking his phone. My best friend Lance, who is joint third-best footballer in Year 4 with me, actually has FOUR parents, because his mum and dad split up and then married other people, who are now his step-mum and step-dad.

This of course is not fair, as it means he’s got three more parents than me, something that is true because my dad died when I was one and I don’t remember him. He’s just pictures on the mantelpiece and the reason Mum starts crying sometimes. Christmas Day. My birthday, especially. Wail wail, sob sob. I mean, I do feel sorry for her but it doesn’t exactly help if you’re really trying to enjoy your new Lego.

So no dad to take me swimming to make up for the fact that my mum simply never has .