Hit for Six (3 page)

8 a.m.!!!

The digits flashed at him urgently. Davey's brain was sparked into life with a jolt. He'd been so tired the night before he'd forgotten to set his alarm.

‘AAAHHH!' Davey sat upright. He felt real and immediate terror. The bus for their excursion was leaving at 8 a.m.!

Mudge would be mad as a maggot.

Max bounded into the room and jumped onto Davey's bed. He looked happy and carefree.

‘Move, dog!'

Davey pushed Max out of the way and leapt out of bed. If he hurried, he might still make it!

Davey sprinted down Eel Avenue towards school. His backpack bumped jerkily, digging into his spine. Despite his stiff shoulder muscles, he pumped his arms like pistons to sprint as fast as he could.

‘You can do this,' he told himself between gasps for breath.

Just as Davey reached the corner of the street and could see the school grounds, he heard the familiar sound of claws on cement running alongside him.

‘Max,' he hissed, ‘go home now!'

Max refused to do anything of the sort. Davey lunged at the dog. The foxie bounded past Davey's outstretched arms and raced across the road towards school.

‘Ugh! You mongrel!' Davey yelled.

He sprinted around the corner just in time to see a large bus pull out from the kerb.

‘No! Wait!'

Davey sprinted as fast as he could after the bus but it accelerated as it pulled into the traffic. He felt as if his lungs might explode and reluctantly slowed to a halt. He bent over to catch his breath. Max jumped up and licked his face.

‘I have two words for you,' muttered Davey, pushing the pesky dog away. ‘Dog pound.'

For once Max looked contrite. He sat down abruptly and smiled with a butter-wouldn't-melt expression on his face.

‘You don't fool me, mutt.' Davey tried not to panic and thought about his options. There was nothing to be gained by going to school now. He'd end up doing chores for Mrs Trundle all day.

In fact, the more Davey thought about it the better he felt. Suddenly he had an entire day free to practise hitting sixes!

‘You're brilliant, Max!'

Max wagged his tail. He'd apparently known this all along.

‘Warrr-
ner
!' A familiar drawl interrupted Davey's dreams of the perfect way to spend a day.

‘Eh?' Davey turned to see Mr Mudge staring at him from the other side of the street.

‘Why aren't you on the bus?' asked Mudge, whose ears were beginning to turn a magnificent magenta.

‘I'm sorry, Sir, I slept in and missed it,' called Davey. He glared down at Max.
This is all your fault.

‘Lucky for you I'm taking my own car, so I can give you a lift!' Mudge replied cheerily.

Davey had never seen his teacher look so . . .
happy
. He noticed Mudge's old pale blue Morris Minor parked outside the front of the school. The teacher unlocked the car and opened the front passenger door.

‘Hop in. I'll just grab some paperwork from the office and we can go.'

Davey exhaled a long sigh. He couldn't play cricket, but at least he wouldn't get into trouble with his mum or Mudge.

The only problem was he needed to get rid of Max before Mudge saw him. Mudge
hated Max. The dog was banned from school grounds, but that had never stopped him – a fact which caused Mudge much displeasure.

‘Go home, Max!' Davey commanded and pointed in the direction of Eel Avenue. He didn't have time to take the dog there.

Max cocked his head and ignored Davey completely. Then, quick as a flash, Max leapt into Mudge's car and curled up on the passenger seat.

‘No way, Max!'

Davey had just about had enough of the dog's hijinks. ‘Mudge hates you even more than he hates me, and that's a lot.'

Max seemed unmoved by Davey's revelation.

Then Davey caught a glimpse of Mudge's mustard-coloured skivvy and panicked.

‘Quick, Max!' He unzipped his backpack and beckoned for the pesky pooch to get inside it. Max loved curling up in small spaces, so he trotted into the backpack and settled into a tight ball with his head sticking out of the opening.

‘Keep quiet, or else!' Davey warned him. ‘Just remember – dog pound.'

‘Seat belt on please, Warner.' Mudge took his seat and started the engine.

Davey hugged his backpack to his chest so that Max's face was hidden. It wriggled slightly.

‘Come on, boy. Throw your bag in the back, there's plenty of room,' Mudge commanded.

‘Ah, no, it's fine here, thanks.' Davey gingerly placed the backpack at his feet and buckled his seat belt.

Within moments, the sound of Max's gentle snores drifted up from the floor.

Davey coughed loudly. ‘Do you have any music, Sir?' he asked.

‘As a matter of fact, the wireless is tuned to Classic FM,' Mudge smiled at Davey. He reached over and soon the car was flooded with the sound of classical music.

Davey thought it sounded like cats fighting, but at least it drowned out Max's snoring.

The drive to Penguin Palace Bowling Club would only take about ten minutes in a normal car with a normal driver. Mudge,
however, took slow driving to a new level. He never allowed the speedometer to go above 40 kilometres an hour.

It was going to be a very long trip.

Mudge parked in front of the Penguin Palace Bowling Club.

‘Hurry up and get carrying, Warner,' Mudge instructed. ‘I have some of my own bowling ball collection that needs to come inside.' He opened the boot of the
car to reveal boxes upon boxes of lawn bowls.

‘All of these,' Mudge clicked his fingers at Warner. ‘Be careful, they're heavy,' he added before disappearing inside the club.

Davey was on his third trip carrying boxes when the bus finally pulled up.

‘Oi, Teacher's Pet!' Mo squashed his huge gob against the bus window and made faces at Davey.

Bella Ferosi jumped up to see who Mo was talking to. Teacher's Pet was
her
nickname! She seemed perturbed to see Davey working as Mudge's personal helper.

‘Getting a merit award by sucking up to the teacher doesn't count!' she whispered
threateningly to Davey as she sashayed past and grabbed a box of lawn bowls to carry.

Once everyone was off the bus and inside the club, Mudge called for quiet.

‘This is my club. You had all better be squeaky clean and your best selves today or you will live to regret it. Am I clear?'

‘Crystal, Sir,' the class droned in unison.

‘Hear that, Max?' Davey whispered to his bag. The bag huffed.

Mudge divided the class into four groups. Davey and George were on the same team, Sunil and Kevin in another. Mo and Bella were in another still.

Sunil picked up a bowling ball from the box. ‘Weird shape,' he commented. ‘Just like your head, Mo!'

George cracked up. Mo glared at him and grabbed a bowl from the box. He drew back his arm and sent it hurtling dangerously down the green. The ball veered sharply to the right and careered off into the gutter.

‘Oi, my ball is broken!' Mo shouted.

‘Keep your voice down, Mr Clouter! There are other people trying to play here.' Mudge smiled apologetically at the other members playing on a rink further down the green.

‘As Mr Clouter here has just shown us,' Mudge explained to the group through clenched teeth, ‘the bowls are not round.'

He held up a bowl to demonstrate.

‘That's just dumb,' Mo huffed.

‘The aim of the game is to get your black bowling ball as close to the white jack as possible,' continued Mudge.

‘Now, this isn't as easy as it looks. It takes precision, skill and lots of practice.'

Davey shot Sunil a look.
Come on . . . !
Mudge was talking about a tiny square piece of lawn made up of perfectly manicured grass. It was nothing like a cricket pitch and certainly didn't require any muscle.

As Mudge explained more about the game, he looked as close to contented as Davey had ever seen him.

‘The bowls are weighted to one side so they will curve towards the place you want to hit. How much it turns depends on how fast
you roll it and where you aim it. Rather than straight, you are aiming to send the bowl in an arc shape.'

Mudge selected a bowl and held it out to Bella. ‘Miss Ferosi, why don't you have a try?'

With a firm flick of her ponytail, Bella accepted the challenge. She rolled her bowl down the green in a perfect arc and it came to a rest just beside the target.

Mudge's pale face flushed with pleasure and he burst into a spontaneous round of applause. ‘Someone in this class was paying attention! Thank you, Bella!'

Bella shot Davey a ‘beat that' look.

A flash of colour and movement caught Davey's eye.

‘Uh oh,' he sucked in his breath.

Davey's backpack was heading inside the club towards the bar. He'd forgotten all about Max! While Mudge droned on, Davey excused himself, saying he needed to go to the toilet.

‘Max!' Davey hastily grabbed the backpack and carried it with him to the toilets. He unzipped the bag and gave the dog a drink of water.

‘You need to lie low for a little while longer,' he told the dog.

Max bristled.

‘Come on,' coaxed Davey.

Max gave a low growl.

‘I'll make it worth your while, I promise,' Davey pleaded. ‘Lots of doggie treats!'

Finally Max stalked slowly into the backpack and lay down with a huff. Davey placed the backpack carefully alongside the other bags. When he joined the group again, Mudge was demonstrating how to bowl using the shape of the ball to its best advantage. 6M clapped on cue as he sent a ball rolling at a snail's pace down the green.

Then Mudge announced he would give each student an individual lesson. It would take about two thousand years to get through them all.

‘Wake me up when it's my turn,' whispered Kevin. He closed his eyes and rested his head against a pole.

‘Warner!' Mudge barked.

Davey jumped to attention. ‘Yes, Sir!'

‘Let's see what the mighty cricketer can do!' Mudge licked his lips.

Davey selected a bowl and felt its weight. He judged the distance to the jack and tried to picture the arc the ball would travel along. He drew a line in his mind's eye.

As the bowl left Davey's hand, he saw a white blur flash through the corner of his eye.

No!

Max was tearing across the green after the ball.

‘Max!'

It was all too horrible. Max ignored Davey's ball and plucked the jack from the green and held it expertly between his teeth.

‘WARNER!' Mudge roared. ‘Get that dog off the green!' He sounded close to hysterical and his ears had turned a bright fire-engine red.

Mo's laugh broke out through the chaos and Davey turned to see the bully lying on the ground in stitches. He writhed around, pointing and laughing.