Playing Up (6 page)

Davey nodded.

‘I'll hoist you up.' George bent his knees and locked his hands together. Davey put one foot on George's hands and his friend gave him a lift.

‘Oof!' George was rewarded with a knee in the mouth.

‘Woah!' Davey wavered wildly but managed to steady himself. He reached for the ledge. ‘Got it!'

‘Hurry up! You're heavier than I thought,' George muttered.

‘Nearly there,' Davey said through gritted teeth. He opened the tiny window a little further and, with some effort, managed to squeeze his head and his shoulders through the small opening. He was about to pull himself through, when . . .

‘Someone's coming,' George hissed. ‘Quick! Jump down!'

Davey tried to back out, but his shoulders were held fast. ‘I can't!' he groaned. ‘I'm stuck.'

He was neatly wedged in the small opening, head and shoulders on one side and his bottom and legs on the other.

‘HEY!' a loud voice boomed from the doorway. ‘What's going on in there?'

George, Sunil and Kevin froze as heavy footsteps echoed on the cold cement floor. Mo's ugly mug appeared around the corner. He burst out laughing.

‘You should see your faces, or in your case, Shorty, your bum!' He pulled a face. ‘Ooh, no! Did you think I was a teacher?'

‘What do you want, Clouter?' George asked.

‘I want my hat back,' Mo said with a sneer.

‘Guys . . .' Davey said, ‘I'm stuck.'

‘I'm here to make a trade.' Mo held up a duffel bag. ‘Shorty's hunk of wood for my lucky hat.'

‘Where'd you find it?' George asked with suspicion. ‘Mudge moved it.'

‘Look, do you want it or not?' Mo sounded impatient. He dangled the bag in front of them.

‘Guys,' Davey called, ‘get me down!'

‘Hang on,' Sunil said. He reached for the duffel bag.

‘Uh uh.' Mo shook his head and held the bag just out of reach. ‘Give me my hat first.'

Kevin narrowed his eyes. ‘How do we know we can trust you?'

‘What choice do you have? Your little friend can't play without it, can he?'

‘Guys, I'll handle this,' Davey said. ‘Just get me down!'

Kevin glanced at George and Sunil. They both nodded.

‘All right.' Kevin held out the cap.

Mo grabbed it and put it on before dropping the duffel bag on the ground next to George. A slow smile appeared on Mo's face.

‘GET ME DOWN!' Davey kicked his legs against the wall.

Sunil and Kevin each took one of Davey's legs and yanked him down.

He fell hard onto the cement floor. ‘Ow!' Davey grimaced as he rubbed his shoulders.

There was silence as George unzipped the duffel bag.

‘What?' Davey asked when he saw the look on George's face.

As soon as Davey saw the bat, he knew it wasn't Kaboom. With a sinking feeling, he watched George pull it out. It was ancient. Mo had probably paid fifty cents for it at a garage sale.

‘You asked for it,' Mo growled.

‘Where's Kaboom?' Davey was seething.

‘You'll never get near it. Mudge carries it around with him all the time.' Mo leered and tipped his cap to Kevin. ‘See you, suckers!' He sneered and ran off.

Davey hated to let Mo or Mudge get the better of him, but how was he ever going to get Kaboom back now?

Davey sat on the back steps staring into space. Usually Friday afternoon meant cricket with the boys, but being grounded meant he was stuck at home.

He absentmindedly gave a tennis ball a rub and turned it over in his hand. Max whined
and nudged his nose up against Davey's leg, hoping he'd get the hint. The dog tucked his hind legs neatly underneath his tail and sat down. He gazed at his owner hopefully.

‘Here, dog.' Davey chucked the ball across the lawn towards the back fence. He didn't even bother trying to bowl properly. His arm ached and his whole body felt heavy.

Max trotted back along the grass and dropped the wet ball at Davey's feet. He rolled it back and forth expertly with his nose and whimpered.

‘No more, Max,' Davey said abruptly, then headed into the house.

Davey was rarely home this early. Normally he'd be out playing cricket with his friends until dinner time. Nobody else was home and the house felt spookily quiet.

He opened the pantry door and stared at the contents. Usually he was ravenous after school, but today nothing appealed. He closed the door and ambled into the TV room. A quick flick of the remote told him that nothing interested him.

Once inside his bedroom, Davey flopped on the bed with a sigh. He lay on his back and gazed up at the ceiling. One of the reasons he loved his bat so much was because it had been a gift from his granddad and they had spent time together sanding and oiling it to perfection. His granddad had taught him how to look after a bat – what the willow wanted and how to tell when it needed attention. He knew it would sound stupid to say out loud, but his bat was like family.

Above his bedhead was a poster of his hero, Ricky Ponting. The poster was so old and faded it had taken on a greenish tinge. Davey still loved looking at it, even if Sunil
had drawn a beard on Ricky's chin and coloured in two of his teeth.

Now Davey flopped over to look at his hero. Davey could imagine Ricky yelling out to the bowler: ‘Mate, is that all you've got?'

‘Did you ever feel like giving up, Ricky?' Davey asked.

Ricky rearranged his cap and considered the question.
There were times when I doubted myself
.

‘I know how you feel,' Davey said.

It's up to you to turn things around, Davey
. Ricky looked directly at him.
Nobody else can do it for you
.

‘How? I don't have my lucky bat!'

Don Bradman practised without a bat and look what he did! You have to improvise,
Ricky continued.
Nothing ever goes the way you want under match conditions, either. You just have to be prepared!

And with that, Ricky gave Davey a knowing wink.

Davey thought about Ricky's advice. His brother Steve and Ricky were both saying the same thing. Davey needed to take control. He needed to stop letting cricket haters like Mudge and Mo get in his way.

Suddenly, he felt energised. ‘Max!' he yelled at the top of his voice.

Max jumped up onto the bed and licked his face.

‘Urgh, gross!' Davey pushed Max off the bed and got up. ‘Stop slacking off, Max, we need to practise!'

Davey searched inside one of the kitchen drawers. Ricky's tip about The Don had given him an idea. He found an old golf ball of his dad's and headed outside to the pitch. Then he pulled up one of the wickets and carried it over to the side of the house.

When Steve got home half an hour later, Davey was still practising his batting using a wooden stump and hitting a golf ball repeatedly against the wall. Steve smiled and headed inside the house.

It was finally Saturday morning. Davey and Sunil were in Davey's backyard having a hit. For once there was no Sluggers game, because they had a bye, but Davey was fired up to practise his leg-spin bowling. It still wasn't going well.

‘I need to rip the ball more to make it spin and bounce,' Davey said. ‘But it's really hard.'

Sunil was no great shakes as a batter, but he was having no problem dealing with Davey's gentle leggies, especially as Davey couldn't maintain a consistent length.

‘Yeah, you should bowl more often!' Sunil agreed. ‘I've never batted so well!' With that, he gave Max another four to retrieve.

‘It's only spinning one way,' Davey said, thinking out loud. ‘I'm going to have to learn to bowl a wrong'un like Shane Warne.'

‘You've got to do something, Warner,' Sunil said with a grin, ‘ 'cause this is just too easy.'

Davey made a Mo Clouter face. ‘You could live to regret those words!'

‘Watch me,' Sunil retorted, waiting. ‘Let's face it, you have the ugliest bowling action I've ever seen!'

Davey went back to his mark. He gripped the ball tightly, came in off his short run and ripped the ball as hard as he could. It pitched just outside leg stump. For once it bounced and spun viciously.

‘Take that!'

Sunil was beaten. He pushed forward and only succeeded in edging the ball to where first slip would normally stand. Max had been waiting at mid-off and collected the ball between his jaws before dropping it back to Davey.

‘Hmmf,' Sunil said.

‘I've still got it!' Davey gloated.

‘I bet you can't do that again,' Sunil said.

‘Bet you I can!'

Davey was getting his groove back. As he walked back to his mark, he noticed Steve coming out of the house. He was wearing his cricket whites.

Max let out a happy yap and raced over to Steve.

‘No more advice, bro!' Davey said, bristling. ‘I'm doing everything you told me.'

Steve laughed. ‘Good! Because we need you.'

‘Who needs me?'

‘The Sandhill Saints,' Steve said. ‘We've got the big game against Shimmer Bay Skiffs.'

Davey had forgotten about Steve's big game. He would give anything to watch it and support Steve, even if he was the world's most annoying older brother.

‘Have you forgotten, I'm grounded, for . . . like,
ever
,' Davey said.

‘You can come,' Steve said. ‘I cleared it with Mum.

‘You did?' Davey was taken aback. This was news.

‘We need an eleventh man,' Steve explained. ‘Lee Woon's injured.'

‘You want
me
?' Davey was floored.

Steve dug his index finger into Davey's chest. ‘We want you.'

‘Way to go, Warner!' Sunil slapped his mate on the back.

Davey was taken aback. ‘I thought . . . I thought you didn't think I was any good.'