Belly Flop

by Morris Gleitzman

  Gran stared at me.

  ‘The roof of the school hall,’ I suggested.

  Gran coughed and spluttered so hard that muesli pinged off the microwave.

  ‘That’s kidnapping,’ she said.

  ‘OK,’ I said desperately, ‘we could bribe him.’

  ‘What with?’ said Gran. ‘Empty soft drink bottles?’

  I had an idea.

  ‘Your savings,’ I said. ‘Dad’ll pay you back once the drought’s broken and the bank can afford to give him a raise.’

  ‘Sorry,’ said Gran. I’m skint.’

  I knew why.

  ‘Dumb cigarettes,’ I said. ‘They shouldn’t make ’em so expensive.’

  Gran looked hurt and took a deep wheezy breath.

  She started to say something.

  ‘It’s OK, Gran,’ I said gently. ‘You don’t have to make excuses. We’ll kidnap him.’

  Gran put her spoon down.

  ‘In my experience,’ she said, ‘there’s something that works better than bribery or kidnapping.’

  I hoped she wasn’t gunna say murder.

  ‘Friendship,’ she said.

  I thought about it.

  I thought about Carla and how good that was while it lasted.

  I reckon Gran’s right.

  This is just to let you know, Doug, that everything’s under control.

  I won’t be going to sleep tonight till I’ve figured out how I can get to be such good mates with Mr Grimmond that he’ll keep Dad in the job and give him extra money to lend Mrs Fiami to keep her going till you’ve ended the drought.

  Just a quick update, Doug.

  I was awake most of last night, but I couldn’t crack it.

  The idea didn’t come to me till this morning at school.

  Even then I was so tired I almost missed it.

  Ms Dorrit made the announcement in assembly and it just rolled over me like mineral water off a duck’s back.

  Then all the other kids started cheering and yakking to each other excitedly.

  ‘Swimming carnival!’ they were saying. ‘We’re having a swimming carnival!’

  Suddenly I was listening so hard I could hear the sheets of paper rustling in Ms Dorrit’s manila folder.

  ‘. . . very fortunate,’ she was saying. ‘The council were going to close the pool from today on account of the filter being clogged by Saturday night’s dust storm. However they’ve agreed to leave it open one more day so tomorrow we can have our first school swimming carnival for eight years.’

  Everyone cheered again, including me.

  ‘So,’ said Ms Dorrit sternly, ‘make the most of it.’

  That’s exactly what I’m doing, Doug.

  I worked on the idea all day at school, and as soon as I got home I put it to Dad.

  ‘Invite Mr Grimmond to the swimming carnival,’ I said. ‘Then, after I’ve won the diving and he’s mega impressed and wants to be my friend, we can tell him about my future diving career and how I’m available for sponsorship.’

  As Dad put his cup of tea down he knocked the spoon out of the sugar bowl so I could tell he was interested.

  ‘If the bank’s sponsoring me and I’m gunna be getting them top publicity all over the world,’ I said, ‘they’re not gunna sack you, are they? Plus if I offer to put their logo on my swimmers I reckon they’ll be nicer to the folks round here.’

  ‘Brilliant,’ said Gran.

  Dad didn’t say anything.

  Mum put her hand gently on my arm.

  ‘What if you don’t win the diving, love?’ she said.

  I didn’t want to mention your name, Doug, and get Dad ropeable again.

  So I just tried to look very confident.

  ‘I can do it,‘ I said. ‘I know I can.’

  ‘He’ll have a punt,’ said Gran. ‘You can’t ask more than that.’

  Mum didn’t look convinced.

  Dad didn’t say anything.

  My insides sagged.

  Then Mum put her hand on Dad’s arm.

  ‘Wouldn’t hurt, Noel, would it?’ she said. ‘If Mr Grimmond sees what a top little community we’ve got here, he might be easier on all of us.’

  Dad thought about it.

  ‘Worth a punt,’ he said.

  Gran nearly choked on her tea.

  I’ve just done a few practice dives off the wardrobe and I haven’t lost the knack, Doug.

  So I won’t need to bother you again till I’m up on the diving board tomorrow.

  This is gunna be the best day of my whole life, I just know it, Doug.

  It is so far, and I’ve only been awake four seconds.

  When I opened my eyes, the first thing I spotted was Grandad’s medal on my pillow.

  I stared at the gleaming metal diver soaring over the writing and my insides soared too.

  Then I glanced out the window.

  I don’t reckon I’d have known for sure what I was seeing if Dad hadn’t been yelling in the front yard.

  ‘Clouds! Clouds!’

  I’m dragging on my swimmers and rushing outside.

  Jeez, there’s lots of them.

  Ten, fifteen, twenty at least.

  They’re huge.

  One of them’s covering the sun.

  There’s one that looks like Gran blowing smoke out of her ear.

  Doug, you’re a genius.

  Everyone’s out in the street in their pyjamas, pointing and shouting.

  And arguing.

  Daryl the postie’s telling Gran clouds don’t mean anything, there were clouds here six years ago and they were dry as a wombat’s washer.

  Gran’s telling him not to be such a misery.

  I reckon she knows, Doug.

  Even though she has spells when she loses her grip, I reckon she knows you’re on the job and you’re gunna crack it.

  She’s offering to lend Daryl her umbrella.

  Daryl’s getting so worked up he’s not even paying attention to his job.

  He’s just lobbed a letter into our postbox and missed and now it’s blowing across the front yard.

  I’d better grab it.

  I hope this isn’t gunna be the worst day of my whole life.

  It was going great until a minute ago.

  Everyone in town’s come to the swimming carnival.

  I know that’s probably so they could get out of work and stare up at the clouds, but at least they’re here.

  Most important of all, Mr Grimmond’s here with Mum and Dad and Gran.

  That’s him down there in the suit and tie telling Gran he doesn’t want a chocolate crackle.

  Nobody’s staring up at the clouds now, but.

  They’re staring up at me.

  And pointing and yelling and carrying on.

  They’ve been doing it ever since Ms Dorrit announced the diving would be first and I jumped up and sprinted for the diving board.

  I didn’t wait for her to explain that the diving would have to be off the side because the water’s too shallow to use the high board.

  I jumped on the ladder and started climbing up before anyone could stop me.

  I was gunna wait till I reached the board before I gave you a hoi to watch out for me, Doug. You know, so I could dive without hitting the bottom and having my brains leak out into the pool.

  I’m not there yet but I’ve just realised something.

  It’s such a dopey thing to have done, I’m almost ashamed to admit it.

  I’ve got Gran’s letter in my swimmers.

  When I picked it up in the front yard earlier Gran was busy yelling at Daryl the postie. She gets really irate if she’s interrupted when she’s arguing, so I stuck the letter down my swimmers for safe keeping.

  And forgot it.

  Until now.

  I don’t know what to do.

  The envelope’s got a window in it so I can tell it’s important.

  If I dive it’ll get sodden.

  If I leave it on the board it’ll blow away.
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br />   Mr Tristos and the other teachers are climbing the ladder.

  I’m on the board now, but I can’t think straight with the noise of the kids down there cheering and the parents yelling.

  I’m opening the letter. I’m reading it so at least I can tell Gran what was in it.

  Except it isn’t a letter, it’s a receipt.

  From a transport company.

  To Gran.

  Thanking her for the money.

  The money for the three tankers of water.

  Oh, Jeez.

  Doug, I need to know something really quickly now because Mr Tristos is nearly halfway up the ladder.

  Did you make Gran send the water?

  Or did she do it all by herself?

  I’m confused, Doug, and I don’t want to be.

  I’ve got a crook feeling in my guts and it’s not just cause I scraped my tummy on a step climbing up.

  I need to know it was you who sent the water, Doug.

  I need to know you’re still looking after me.

  It’s urgent.

  I’m on a very high diving board.

  I‘ve never done a high dive before into real water.

  The water’s a long way down and there isn’t enough of it.

  Mum and Dad are sitting down there with Mr Grimmond and everyone’s depending on me.

  I’ve got to dive.

  Tell me you’re still looking after me, Doug.

  Mr Tristos has only got six steps left to climb.

  Give me a sign, Doug.

  Anything’ll do.

  A bird winking at me.

  A cloud in the shape of a thumbs up.

  Only three steps left.

  I’ve got to dive now.

  That black cloud over on the horizon looks a bit like a thumbs up.

  Either that or a tombstone.

  I guess I’ll know in about five secs.

  See ya, Doug.

  Arms . . . legs . . . focus . . .

  Mr Tristos is so close I can feel drops of his sweat splashing on me.

  Wait a sec.

  Those drops.

  They aren’t from Mr Tristos.

  They’re from the sky.

  RRRRRRRRRRRRRRRRRRRRRRRRRRRR

  AAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAA

  IIIIIIIIIIIIIIIIIIIIIIIIIIIIIIIIIIIIIIIIIIIIIIIIIIIIIIIII

  NNNNNNNNNNNNNNNNNNNNNNNNNN

  !!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!

  I would have dived, Doug.

  I wanted to.

  OK, at first I just wanted to stand there with my head back and feel the rain splashing on my face while my legs stopped wobbling.

  But I got the urge to dive again after a few secs.

  Once Mr Tristos started hugging me and dancing round on the board and singing.

  Trouble was, I couldn’t get back to the edge because the more Mr Tristos’s clothes got sodden with rain, the heavier he was to drag.

  And when Mrs Chaplin finally made it to the top and he let go and started dancing with her, so many ecstatic people down below had jumped into the pool there wasn’t a clear patch of water.

  I’m not complaining, Doug.

  Now it’s raining there’ll be heaps of water to dive into.

  Thanks to you.

  And this time I’m gunna make it up to you, Doug.

  For doubting you.

  I’m gunna make sure everyone knows you’re the hero who broke the drought.

  I’ve told as many people as I can, Doug.

  I’m not sure it sank in with everyone.

  Sometimes it’s hard to get people’s attention when they’re doing cartwheels in puddles and dancing on car roofs and kissing pot plants, but I did my best.

  I got some people’s attention, but.

  They didn’t actually say anything when I told them about your angel powers, but I could see they were impressed.

  And grateful, Doug.

  Like me.

  I’d forgotten how noisy rain is.

  Which is another reason why I’m having trouble getting some people’s attention.

  For example, in the car going out to the airstrip I told Dad, Mum, Gran and Mr Grimmond from the bank that you’d made it rain, Doug.

  Nobody said a thing.

  The noise of the rain must have drowned out my words.

  Funny but, when we got to the airstrip and Dad told Mr Grimmond that the farmers would soon be able to pay their debts and Mr Grimmond told Dad to keep up the good work and Dad told Mr Grimmond to hurry up or his plane might not be able to take off, the rain didn’t drown out their words.

  Oh well.

  Perhaps I’ve strained my voice with too much yelling for joy.

  I gave Gran her receipt when we got home.

  It was pretty soggy, but she knew what it was.

  I didn’t say anything about you making her spend her life savings, Doug, in case she got irate and choked on her toast.

  I just told her she’s the best Gran in the whole world and gave her a hug.

  She didn’t say anything at first, just hugged me back.

  Then she said, ‘We’re quits now, eh?’

  I smiled and nodded even though I didn’t understand what she meant.

  She must have seen I didn’t.

  ‘I got you started on Doug,’ she said, ‘so I reckoned it was up to me to finish it. I reckoned the best way to convince you Doug isn’t real was to fill the pool myself and prove you don’t need him.’

  I stared at her.

  ‘I thought I couldn’t survive without Grandad once,’ she said, ‘but I can.’

  ‘Gran,’ I said quietly, ‘Doug is real. He made it rain.’

  She started going on about low pressure fronts and high pressure fronts colliding in the upper atmosphere.

  Poor old Gran.

  People that kind-hearted shouldn’t have to suffer the indignity of losing their grip and going unintelligible.

  Mum and Dad and Gran have been explaining that it takes twenty-four hours of heavy rain for water to start soaking in to drought-struck land.

  They reckon it’d be well and truly doing that now, Doug.

  ‘I reckon those paddocks’ll be almost as waterlogged as you soon,’ Gran’s just said.

  I’m in the bath.

  I don’t mind her being here, but.

  I’ve got the water so deep she can’t see anything.

  Two days of non-stop rain.

  You’re a genius, Doug.

  Dad reckons the farmers’ dams are filling and there are green shoots coming up at the Wilkinsons’ place.

  That’s what he overheard at the Gas ‘N’ Gobble.

  The farmers aren’t actually speaking to him yet, but they will be soon now he’s off their backs.

  And once the rain stops and we have the swimming carnival and my diving career takes off, he’ll be a hero.

  Three days.

  Doug, this is wonderful.

  I had no idea you’d do it this well.

  The river’s flowing really fast now.

  I’d forgotten this town even had a river.

  We had a class excursion down there today and I tried to get everyone to sign a petition.

  When I’ve got a hundred signatures I’ll present it to the council.

  It’s to get the name changed from the Strathpine River to the Doug River.

  Not many of the kids wanted to sign it today, but that was probably because the rain was making the letters go runny.

  Four days.

  Boy, Doug, when you break a drought you really break a drought.

  PE was cancelled today because the school hall roof’s leaking.

  On the way home I went to the video store for Gran, and guess what?

  Mr Bullock’s cleared out his Water section.

  Now it’s called Sun and Sand.

  Troy and Brent Malley were there picking up Desert Killers for their folks.

  When I asked them to sign the petition they got really nervous and stood
very close to Mr Bullock.

  Troy said he’d give me half a Mars Bar if I’d leave them alone.

  Pretty weird, eh?

  Mum reckons rain can affect people like that.

  Five days of rain.

  Unbelievable.

  Actually Doug, five days will probably be enough.

  We probably won’t need much more rain after today.

  You know, given that all the dams are full.

  And all the water tanks have been overflowing for three days.

  And there are seven trucks bogged on the highway outside town.

  And Gran’s muesli has started sprouting.

  Don’t get me wrong, Doug, we’re very grateful.

  But today’s probably the last day we’ll need rain as such.

  Doug, I know you like to do a job really well.

  That’s why you’re the world’s number one angel.

  Well you’ve done this job really, really well.

  Six days non-stop rain is a top effort.

  But it’s definitely enough.

  OK?

  Thanks.

  Emergency call to Doug.

  The main street’s under water.

  So’s the front yard.

  It’s started coming into the house.

  Stop the rain, Doug.

  Please.

  This is an urgent message to Doug’s secretary.

  If he’s off saving a school camp from a killer spider or something, could you let him know that the rain he started on the Mitch Webber job eight days ago has got totally out of hand.

  Gran’s bed is soaked.

  I’ve had to put everything in my room on top of the wardrobe.

  Mum’s had to put all the money at the bank into plastic bags.

  The town’s being evacuated.

  Get him back here.

  Now.

  I don’t understand, Doug.

  Where are you?

  Can’t you see what’s happening?

  Or is the rain getting in your eyes too?

  The whole town’s queueing up to get into army helicopters.

  Everyone’s wet and muddy and miserable.

  Most of the grown-ups have been up for the last two nights filling sandbags to try and stop the river bursting its banks.

  They’ve had to give up.

  There’s a heap of water on its way down from up north and there’s just not enough sandbags in town.

  Even if we used bags of sheep pellets and disposable nappies we couldn’t stop it.

  So we’re all standing here on the sports oval up to our knees in water.