Belly Flop

by Morris Gleitzman

  And she does most of it with words.

  ‘Bit slack, this dopey guardian angel of yours, eh?’ she said.

  Carla’s got very black eyes with curly hair hanging over them and they glint in a way that makes most people really nervous.

  I thought of explaining that you’re not slack, Doug, just busy, but I didn’t.

  I reckoned she was just filling in time till the Malleys arrived so she could make sarcastic comments about their punching technique while they pounded me into sheep pellets.

  Instead she grabbed me and said ‘Come on’ and dragged me outside.

  I wanted to sprint for the gate, but it was too late.

  Kids were coming out of all the other classrooms, including Troy and Brent’s.

  Carla dragged me round the back of the school hall.

  ‘Climb up,’ she said.

  I stared at her.

  The only way up was the drainpipe, but it collapsed ages ago when Paul Keighley’s big brother tried to climb it and it’s been leaning against the wall ever since.

  Carla pushed it to one side.

  Behind it, hanging from the gutter bracket, was a rope.

  ‘Climb up and lie on the roof till they’ve gone,’ said Carla. ‘I did it last week when Ms Dorrit was after me. Or are you scared of heights?’

  I opened my mouth to tell her that one of my ancestors could do backward dives off the high board at the town pool, then decided it wasn’t a good time.

  I started climbing the rope.

  Carla gave me a push up.

  ‘Guardian angel,’ she snorted. ‘You must be a complete dope.’

  It wasn’t a good time for an argument either, but I had to say something.

  ‘No I’m not,’ I said.

  ‘Dreamland,’ she said. ‘Get real.’

  ‘What makes you the expert?’ I said.

  ‘I had a guardian angel for seven years,’ she said, ‘then he dumped me.’

  I almost fell off the rope.

  I opened my mouth to ask her at least fifty questions but she told me to save my breath for climbing.

  After nearly bursting both lungs and a kneecap, I finally got up here on the roof and stared down at her.

  ‘Why?’ I panted.

  She didn’t get my drift.

  I meant why did her guardian angel dump her, but Carla thought I meant why was she helping me.

  ‘Cause you invited me to your party,’ she said. ‘I couldn’t come cause I was busy, plus I wouldn’t be seen dead at your place, but thanks.’

  Before I could say anything she ran off.

  I can’t stop thinking about what she said.

  Even though I’m lying on scorching tin and I can hear Troy and Brent Malley looking for me down below, I can’t keep my mind off it.

  Dumped by an angel.

  That’s tragic.

  She must have done something really bad.

  Doug, when you’ve finished keeping an eye on Dad, could you get in touch with Carla’s ex-angel and have a quick word with him or her and explain that even though Carla’s got a hurtful tongue and a mean way of looking at people she’s actually a pretty nice person inside.

  Thanks, Doug.

  I won’t interrupt again.

  I was wrong, Doug, I’m interrupting again.

  Troy and Brent Malley have found the rope.

  I can hear them climbing.

  They’ll be up here on the roof in about ten seconds.

  I haven’t got a knife to cut the rope.

  It’ll take me at least half an hour to bite through it.

  I dunno what to do.

  If I jump I’ll be history.

  If they get their hands on me I’ll be dingo bait.

  Doug, help.

  That’s better.

  I’m not seeing double any more and my nose has stopped bleeding.

  Once my knee stops swelling and the headache goes, I’ll be pretty right.

  I’m a lucky bloke.

  Lucky to have you, Doug.

  Without you I could have been really injured.

  I’m also lucky the school hall’s got high windows.

  And that the teacher who had gym this arvo left the gym mats piled up.

  Jeez, it was close but.

  When I finally got a window open wide enough to climb through, Brent Malley was so near I could hear the saliva flapping in his windpipe.

  If I hadn’t jumped when I did, he’d have got a firmer grip on my leg and I’d never have been able to shake him off.

  As it was he knocked me off balance, which is why I jumped head first.

  And why I did the double somersault on the way down.

  I just wish I could have done two and a half, cause then I’d have landed on my feet instead of my face.

  Boy, high dives are faster in real life than on telly. I barely had a chance to yell before it was all over.

  I can see why championship divers prefer water to gym mats. If they dived onto gym mats they’d spend half their lives staggering around in a daze dropping their trophies.

  And if they ever had to sprint out of a school hall directly afterwards and run for their lives from the Malleys, they’d have real trouble reaching their top speed.

  I am.

  Thanks Doug, for looking after Dad.

  He’s just driven past without any visible bullet holes in him or the four-wheel drive.

  Jeez, I’m relieved.

  I waved and yelled, but he didn’t see me.

  I wish he had.

  I don’t know if I can run all the way home with this knee.

  Plus I want to tell him about my dive.

  I reckon he’d be really proud.

  Even Grandad couldn’t always do a double somersault.

  Most of all I want to tell him about the Malleys’ faces after I did it.

  For a few secs, before they ran off to climb down and come after me, they stared down through the window.

  And guess what, Doug?

  They were impressed.

  You should have seen their faces, they looked like . . .

  Oh, Doug.

  I’m having an idea.

  Keep my legs moving, Doug, please.

  I can feel the blood rushing to my brain.

  I think this is the one.

  Yes.

  Yes.

  Yes.

  Yes.

  Why didn’t I think of it before?

  I’m gunna become a world champion diver.

  Or at least an Australian one.

  And when I’ve won loads of trophies and medals for diving off really high diving boards, and earned heaps of honour and glory for this town, the people round here’ll have to feel differently about me.

  And Dad.

  People always like the dads of sports champions, it’s a known fact.

  OK, Doug, I know what you’re probably thinking.

  You’re probably thinking I’m pretty dopey deciding to be a diver when there’s not a pool, river, creek or dam in these parts with any water in it.

  That’s the whole point.

  If I’m gunna impress people I’ve got to do something that no one else from this district can do.

  I reckon I’m probably the only kid for six hundred thousand square kilometres around here who’s planning to be a champion diver.

  I’ve seen championship diving on telly and I know I can do it.

  OK, not a triple reverse somersault with twist straight off, but I’ve already done a double forward somersault, and I reckon I could have added a twist if the Malleys hadn’t rushed me.

  After all, I’ve got diving in my blood.

  And you to stop me having any tragic accidents, Doug.

  If I can teach myself a triple reverse somersault by next week when we go on the swimming carnival excursion, I reckon I can win the diving over there and be off and running on the road to international success.

  This is it.

  The plan I’ve been looking for.

  Je
ez, I’m so excited my legs are going all wobbly.

  I can hardly run any more.

  I can’t see the Malleys, but they can’t be far behind.

  Quick, Doug, I need a hiding place.

  For a sec just then I thought Mr Bullock was gunna chuck me out.

  He doesn’t like kids hanging round his shop if they’re not renting a video.

  Thanks, Doug, for making Sheena’s dog recognise me and lick me so much that Mr Bullock changed his mind and let me stay.

  And thanks for giving me the idea of coming here.

  The Action and Horror section in the video store’s a great place to hide.

  For a start, if I crouch down by this bottom shelf pretending to look for forgotten musicals Arnold Schwarzenegger made before he was a star, I can’t be seen from the street.

  Plus if anyone comes in they’ll most likely go to the Water section rather than this one. Mr Bullock keeps movies with water in them in their own section at the front. Twenty Thousand Leagues Under the Sea, The River Wild, A Fish Called Wanda, that sort of stuff. They’re the most popular type of videos round here since the drought started.

  I must check out the ones with diving in them.

  Troy and Brent Malley hate water movies.

  All their favourite videos are in Action and Horror.

  Everyone knows that.

  Troy and Brent would never expect anyone they were after to hide in their section, not in a million years.

  Good on you, Doug.

  They’ll never find me here.

  Don’t blame yourself, Doug.

  It was a fluke, them finding me there.

  I reckon they’d given up looking for me and had decided to rent a video with lots of killing in it to make themselves feel better.

  Thanks for distracting them so I could duck past them and run for it.

  That was a top move, having Mr Bullock call them over to the counter to pick up that copy of Death on the Nile their parents had reserved.

  With that sort of start I’ve got a good chance of getting home before they catch me.

  As long as I don’t stop running.

  You probably think I was pretty dopey to stop running, Doug.

  Perhaps I was.

  But it was something I had to do.

  Halfway down our street I had a sudden vision of me spending the rest of my life being chased by Troy and Brent Malley and never having a chance to do any diving.

  People just don’t get to be international diving champs if they’re always being knocked off balance by angry twins, it’s a known fact.

  So I decided to face up to them and get it over with.

  The problem was, once I’d stopped and turned round and Troy and Brent had stopped and got over their surprise, everything happened too fast.

  Before I could catch my breath and tell them I’d fight them one at a time, they were both on me and Troy was pushing my face in the dirt and kneeing me in the back and Brent was kicking me in the side and giving me Chinese burns on both arms at once.

  I know you’d have saved me, Doug, if I’d called.

  I still don’t know why I didn’t.

  The Chinese burns must have affected my brain.

  All I could think of was a completely dopey idea.

  That Dad would save me.

  I must have been delirious.

  Dad isn’t that sort of person. He’s tried to rescue me a few times, for example the time I accidentally shut myself in the safe at the bank, but he panics and knocks things over and other people have to do it.

  Just now but, when Troy and Brent finally stopped thumping me and I realised it was because someone had chucked cold water over us, for a sec I really thought it was Dad.

  Yes, I thought, at last he’s finally made his arms and legs do what he wants in a time of crisis.

  But when I blinked the water out of my eyes it wasn’t Dad standing there with a dripping bucket, it was Gran.

  I still can’t believe it.

  Gran can get pretty angry, specially when Mum and Dad try to make her give up smoking or throw Grandad’s overalls away, but I’ve never seen her as ropeable as she was just now.

  Her eyes were like glowing cigarette tips, and even though she was wearing her saggy dress, the way she stuck her chest out made her look even taller than usual.

  ‘You two mongrels on your feet,’ she yelled at Troy and Brent.

  They scrambled off me.

  ‘If you want to bash someone for chucking you off your land,’ Gran said to them, ‘go in there and bash his dad.’

  She pointed to our place.

  Troy and Brent stared at her.

  I stood up quickly in case they accepted her offer, but they didn’t.

  ‘Otherwise take a hike,’ said Gran, ‘and if you go crooked on this bloke again instead of those that deserve it, I’ll tear strips off you wide enough to . . .’

  Gran stopped for a cough.

  Troy and Brent didn’t hang around for her to start yelling again.

  They wiped the muddy water off their faces and glared at me and ran.

  ‘You OK?’ asked Gran when she’d finished having a spit.

  I nodded.

  My back was aching and my side was throbbing and my arms were burning but I hardly noticed any of it.

  I was too busy noticing the look on Gran’s face.

  I know you made her come and rescue me, Doug, and I’m really grateful.

  But seeing her peering at me like that, her face all pink and concerned, I had the weird thought that even if you hadn’t made her rush out with that bucket of water, she probably would have anyway.

  Mum went gastric.

  ‘Oh Jeez!’ she yelled. ‘Ring Doctor Masterton.’

  Mum, I thought, stop over-reacting.

  Then I remembered that as well as being dripping wet and covered in dust and a bit scraped around the chin, I still had blood on my nose and a swollen knee from the gym mats.

  ‘It’s OK, Mum,’ I said, ‘it’ll wash off.’

  Sonya Masterton reckons her dad’s workload has doubled since the bank started chucking people off their farms and I didn’t want him taking it out on me with tetanus injections.

  ‘Where’s that hopeless husband of yours?’ said Gran to Mum, grabbing me by the shoulder. ‘I want him to take a squiz at this. See what his precious bank’s doing.’

  My side started throbbing harder.

  ‘No,’ said Mum. ‘Noel’s had enough today. Head office just rang. Mr Grimmond reckons Noel’s reports are too soft. Told him he’s making too many excuses for the farmers. Told him to get tougher or else. He’s taken a Panadol and gone to bed.’

  Poor old Dad.

  He’s probably feeling as bad as I am.

  I’m in the bath now, checking out the damage.

  Few bruises mostly.

  Nothing that’ll get in the way of diving practice.

  What I need is some softer gym mats.

  Gran’s just been in.

  I wish she’d knock.

  She might be good at handling bullies but she’s got hopeless manners when it comes to bathrooms.

  She told me to run more water and soak my bruises properly, but I didn’t cause we’re getting low and the next delivery’s not for ages.

  Plus she’s already used a bucketful out in the street.

  Thanks, Gran,’ 1 said. ‘You really put the wind up the Malleys.’

  Gran waved a letter at me.

  ‘I wouldn’t have done it,’ she said, ‘if I’d known you’d been stealing my mail.’

  I stared up at her.

  ‘It was in your school bag,’ she said. ‘Dunno how a person’s meant to manage their investments when letters from their bank get left in school bags.’

  I realised what had happened.

  This morning, when I was at the mail box checking for birthday cards and I panicked about Dad and the Malleys, I must have stuffed her letter in my bag.

  ‘Sorry, Gran,’ I said.


  She grunted.

  I saw her looking at my bruises and I could tell she was blaming Dad.

  ‘It was my fault,’ I said. ‘I wanted to fight the Malleys and get it out the way so I can concentrate on being a champion diver.’

  She stared down at me.

  ‘I knew I wouldn’t get too bashed,’ I said, ‘cause Doug’s back looking after me.’

  Gran’s stare turned into a frown.

  I hope I didn’t hurt her feelings, letting her know she didn’t save me single-handed.

  I hope she was just frowning cause Grandad’s been dead seven years and it’s a long time since she’s seen a willy.

  G’day Doug.

  If you’ve got a sec, I’ll explain what I’m doing up here on the roof.

  And what all the mattresses and pillows and cushions from the house are doing piled up down there on the ground.

  It’s like this.

  Last night before I went to sleep I decided to get a bit of diving practice in.

  Mr Tristos is always saying that to learn something new you’ve got to do it several times.

  Trouble is, it’s really hard doing a double somersault off the top of a wardrobe onto a bed.

  The most I could do was a single somersault with a half twist.

  I hadn’t even planned the half twist, I had to do it to avoid the bedside lamp.

  For a double somersault you need extra height, so now Mum and Dad have left early for work, I’ve decided to use our roof.

  The reason I’m telling you all this, Doug, is I’m a bit worried that if I bounce off the mattresses at the wrong angle there might not be enough pillows and cushions to stop me splitting my skull open and scattering teeth all over the driveway.

  I don’t want to wake Gran up to ask her for her pillow, so I’m asking you to keep an eye on me.

  Thanks, Doug.

  OK, I’d better stop yakking and get a few dives in before my soles melt and stick to the roof.

  I don’t want to be up here scraping my thongs off the tin when Gran wakes up.

  If Mum and Dad find out about this they’ll go mental.

  Mum and Dad have gone mental.

  I’ve tried to explain to them it’s partly their fault for coming home only ten minutes after they left.

  They should have told me they were just going to Conkey’s for tights and aftershave.

  But they won’t listen.

  They’re too busy yelling things up at me like ‘don’t move’ and ‘step back off the guttering’ and I’m gunna tan your hide’ and ‘don’t jump, we love you’.