Shot, Boom, Score!

by Justin Brown

  That day Mum said, ‘Toby, I’m very disappointed in you,’ and Dad said, ‘Right, my boy’ at exactly the same time.

  ‘Toby, why did you lie to me about finishing your homework last night?’ Mum asked.

  ‘It was – I just – I forgot.’

  ‘Toby! You told me before you played basketball with Terence that your homework was done. So why did you lie?’

  ‘I don’t know,’ I said.

  Mum gave me the same horrible look that Mrs Martin-Edge gave me at lunchtime. ‘And Mrs Martin-Edge told me you got into another fight.’ ‘It wasn’t a fight!’ I said. ‘How could it have been? I missed him!’

  Okay, that might have been the wrong thing to say.

  ‘Toby, if you ever lie to me again you can forget all about that GameBox Challenge,’ said Mum. ‘And you can also forget about dessert until tonight’s homework is done.’

  This was serious – I could miss out on the Game–Box V3 and raspberry ripple ice-cream.

  I opened my English book. Mrs Martin-Edge had told us to write about the most important people in the world.

  This was tough.There’s the Chicago Bulls coach. He’s pretty important – but what about the All Blacks coach? Or Manchester United?

  I was going to call Hughesy to see what he thought, but I didn’t need to, because he was standing outside my bedroom window holding his new remote-controlled helicopter.

  Even after flying, I’d have enough time to finish my homework.

  Boom!

  6th FEBRUARY

  It’s game on for the GameBox V3 Challenge!

  Last night Dad set up a chart on the fridge. It has one column for wickets and one for tries. So far I have none in either. But when I woke up this morning I was so excited. First, because it was Saturday and there was no school, and second, because we were about to play the Daredevils, the worst team in the history of cricket. Even Claire could score runs against this team. With a broken arm!

  Dad normally comes to Saturday-morning cricket, but today he had to work at Beach FM. As usual, Mum asked why he needed to take his boat to the radio station. As usual, Dad didn’t answer, he just gave her a wave and a wink as he went out the door.

  Outside, he wished me luck for the GameBox V3 Challenge.

  ‘Don’t forget, Toby,’ he said, ‘the biggest journey begins with a single step.’

  ‘But my run-up is five steps,’ I said.

  ‘You know what I mean.’

  When we arrived at the ground, Jonesy, Hughesy and I had some throwdowns and got ready for the game. It was cloudy and the pitch had heaps of grass, which meant the ball would spin.

  That’s the good news.

  The terrible news was that McGarvy turned up.

  We knew McGarvy must have arrived because Hughesy’s beanie was up in a tree and Jonesy complained that someone had hidden his bat, which turned up later in the girls’ toilets. And then we saw that McGarvy was turning his sports towel into a chicken. It’s that trick everyone’s seen a gazillion times where you roll the towel a special way. If you ask me, it looks more like a rabbit. Anyway, that’s not the point.

  The point is, it’s such an old trick!

  Why was everyone laughing?

  When McGarvy finished with the chicken he opened Jonesy’s cricket bag and took a ball without asking. We watched him mark his run-up. First he let the batter know he’d survived a shark attack, then he showed off his shark tooth. Then he ran in and bowled faster than a freight train wearing rollerblades. He turned into the angriest, most horrible person on earth. Hughesy said he looked like one of those big bulls that charge red blankets in Spain. Steven Turncoat faced him, but ran away before McGarvy even reached the bowling crease. All we could hear were three wickets smashing and McGarvy beating his chest like a gorilla. One thing the CGC had been told about McGarvy was that you should never high-five him, because you wouldn’t have any hand left. I realised that with Malcolm McBully bowling and me at slip, our team could actually be as awesome as the Baggy Greens when they won sixteen tests in a row. Here’s the thing: I never drop the ball. Coach says I’ve got the safest hands in the team. Once I took eight catches in an innings. If there were commentators at our games they’d say, ‘Look at that Toby! He really does have the most reliable pair of hands on the park – much like Mark Waugh.’

  It wouldn’t be like that with Jonesy at slip. The commentators would say, ‘There goes Jonesy dropping another one off the bowling of McGarvy. Honestly, that boy couldn’t catch a train!’

  Anyway, as it turned out, we won the toss against the Daredevils and batted first. As usual, Jonesy and Hughesy opened, but argued about who should face first ball. Hughesy said he always faces, so Jonesy should have a turn, but Jonesy said he couldn’t face without a helmet.

  ‘Well, where’s your helmet?’ Hughesy asked.

  ‘I accidentally left it at home.’

  Hughesy looked confused. ‘You’re going to have to face some time! What does it matter if it’s first ball?’

  ‘I just don’t like facing first ball,’ said Jonesy. ‘It’s something a lot of opening batters are scared of, like Rahul Dravid.’

  ‘Yeah, but Rahul Dravid scores runs.’

  ‘Shut! Up!’ Jonesy said, and tried to hit him with his brand-new bat.

  Coach saw the whole thing.‘Hey!’ he said. ‘Save that aggression for the field.’

  Mum says Hughesy and Jonesy are like chalk and cheese, which I think is her way of saying Jonesy is a blocker and Hughesy is a basher. Hughesy doesn’t wear a helmet because he’s not scared of a cricket ball one little bit. Anyway, it wouldn’t fit over his beanie. I wouldn’t be surprised if Jonesy slept with his helmet on. Once Hughesy even batted with no shoes on, but Clay Mubbery got him with a yorker that made his toes bleed.

  We scored 179. Caine Snyder scored 52, but ran out Jonesy and Hughesy. I only scored 13, but I didn’t care, because the pitch was green and I was there to get wickets.

  I’m a spin bowler so I normally have to wait till the fast bowlers have had a turn, but today Scott Honeyford threw me the new ball, which was red like an oversized cherry, and so shiny I could see my reflection.

  ‘There you go,Toby,’ he winked. ‘You can open.’

  Opening the bowling is wicked, but there are lots of rules. No one is allowed to drop the new ball. It needs to stay shiny. If you drop it, it’ll get dirty and won’t swing or seam. Everyone has to rub the ball on their pants, even the boys who don’t like getting muddy. Sometimes I can’t even see the white on my pants, just grass stains and red marks from where I shined the ball all day. Mum says we should just wear black, then she wouldn’t have to wash my white pants every week. But that’s just Mum. Everyone knows you bowl better wearing white pants.

  The Daredevils batted like five-year-olds, mostly because we bowled like demons. They lost four wickets for 39 runs. I didn’t score any, but bowled four maidens in a row – which means they didn’t get any runs. But McGarvy bowled faster than ever and knew I didn’t want to field at slip. Which is why he said, ‘Toby, field at slip. Drop anything and you’re dead meat.’

  When Caine Snyder got the fifth wicket, Coach gave us the thumbs-up from the sideline. We were smashing them! That’s until a guy called ‘the Wall’ came out to bat.

  ‘What a dumb name!’ said Jonesy. ‘“The Wall”!’

  ‘Yeah,’ said Hughesy. ‘Maybe his mum and dad didn’t like him! Why would they call him “the Wall”?’

  ‘Because nothing gets past him, you dopes,’ said Scott Honeyford.

  Scott was right.We tried everything, but no one could get the Wall out. I bowled my googly and topspinner, but he blocked everything. Nothing worried him! McGarvy even showed off his shark-tooth necklace again, but the Wall kept batting.

  At the drinks break, Scott Honeyford had a plan. ‘Toby,’ he said, throwing me the ball, ‘the Wall’s not going to do anything stupid, because he doesn’t want to get out. He’s just batting for his average.’

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bsp; ‘He’s boring, like Jonesy,’ laughed Hughesy.

  ‘Hey!’ said Jonesy, punching him in the arm.

  We looked at the Wall. He was sitting away from his team reading a cricket magazine. He didn’t even need a drink! He was a cricket robot!

  ‘We’ll get him,’ said Jonesy.

  ‘How?’ Caine Snyder asked.‘Coach says he holds the world record for the highest score by a schoolboy. He batted for two days, and scored 430 runs.’

  ‘Boom!’ said Jonesy.

  The Wall changed his gloves and put his helmet back on.

  ‘Why don’t you try a fast short ball?’ Scott asked.

  I laughed.

  ‘What’s so funny?’

  ‘I’m a legspinner !’

  ‘Yeah?’ said Scott. ‘So surprise him, Toby. Put a square leg in. Bowl a fast, short one and wait for him to top-edge it.’

  ‘That’s an awesome idea!’ I said.

  Then McGarvy butted in. ‘Good plan, boys.’ But he had a funny look on his face.

  ‘You’d better be ready,’ I told him.

  ‘Born ready, Gilligan-Flannigan.’

  But when we started play McGarvy turned into the world’s biggest goober. He took a straw out of his pocket and began making the loudest fart sounds ever. Everyone was cracking up until the umpire took away McGarvy’s straw.

  I did exactly what Scott said. I bowled a fast bouncer, which surprised the Wall so much that he jumped like a frog on hot concrete. Then he did just what Scott said he would. He top-edged the ball, sending it straight to square leg!

  No one on earth could drop that catch. Not even if they had no arms and no legs and no eyes. Even Max could have caught it!

  The ball went high.Then it was coming down fast.

  Everyone looked at McGarvy, who pretended he was busy talking to the umpire.

  The Wall started taking his gloves off.

  ‘McGarvy!’ yelled Jonesy. ‘Catch it!’

  McGarvy ignored him.

  ‘McGarvy, wake up!’ yelled Hughesy. ‘Take it! ’

  But McGarvy just let the ball fall right next to him.

  ‘Whoops!’ he said. ‘Sun was in my eyes.’

  I kicked the pitch and said some words that I can’t write here because Dad might read this logbook. That’s when the umpire told me to cool it.

  ‘But McGarvy deliberately dropped the catch!’ I said. ‘He’s the one who should be in trouble!’

  ‘He tried his best,’ said the umpire.

  ‘But . .. I could have caught that with my eyes closed!’

  ‘Calm down,’ said the umpire. ‘New bowler, please.’

  The Wall was licking his lips as if he was playing Beast Battle and had just got another life. If he batted the rest of the innings we’d lose the match, all because McGarvy is the world’s biggest goober! Actually, McGoober knew exactly what he was doing. If he dropped catches I wouldn’t get wickets, and if I didn’t get wickets I wouldn’t get the new GameBox V3. It was a horrible plan, and it was working.

  In the end McGarvy bowled the Wall out while I watched from the sideline. Even though we beat the Daredevils, I couldn’t stop thinking how McGarvy dropped the easiest catch in the world just so I wouldn’t get the wicket – and then he got Player of the Day for his bowling. And that’s why I wish Malcolm McGarvy would fall off a waterfall or get eaten by a mountain lion.

  It sucks big time. The only thing that makes me feel good right now is thinking about my birthday, which is in two sleeps.

  But then again, maybe I won’t be getting any presents because of what happened when Dad picked me up after the game.

  It started well because he was in a good mood, singing loudly to the song on the radio because he had a chillybin of fish. Sometimes I think Dad’s mouth looks too big for his head, but when he smiles it’s like the sun shining on your face.

  I guess the right thing to do would have been to tell him what really happened. How I should have got wickets against a useless team, but didn’t because McGarvy fielded like a blind man with no arms and no legs. Then I should have said McGarvy was Player of the Day because he got the winning wicket.

  But I put both thumbs in the air.

  ‘I got Player of the Day!’

  ‘For your first game of the season? How many wickets did you get?’

  Even then I didn’t tell Dad the truth. Instead, I opened my big mouth and said, ‘Seven.’

  ‘Seven wickets? Out of the park! Let’s celebrate by going straight to Grandma’s and giving her some of this fish. She’d love to hear your news.’

  At Grandma’s name my head started buzzing like a beehive. I tried to swallow, but it suddenly felt as if there was a rock in my throat.

  ‘Can’t we go eeling instead?’ I asked.

  ‘Are you kidding me?’ said Dad. ‘We’ve got enough fish to feed the whole town!’

  ‘Why don’t we go and buy some bait for next time?’ I asked.

  ‘Trust me, Tobes,’ he said. ‘There’s plenty of good eating fish and there’ll be plenty of juicy bait left over.’

  When Dad says, ‘Right, my boy’, it’s always bad news. But when he calls me ‘Tobes’, it always means ice-cream, or staying up late, or money for lollies.

  But not this time, not once he found out I wasn’t really Player of the Day.

  Dad turned the music up louder and wound down the window. I wanted to vomit. Because sure as sure, Gran would find out about my lie. And even though she was the one person in the whole galaxy who might understand why I told it, I didn’t want her to know, even less than I wanted Dad to. I had to think of something.

  Then it came to me. Dad loves watching documentaries about the war, mostly because my granddad used to fly a Spitfire way back before I was born. Dad loves these programs so much he sometimes forgets to go to work.

  ‘If we can’t go eeling,’ I said, ‘why don’t we just go home and watch World of War Tanks?’

  Dad turned and stared at me. ‘Do you really want to watch World of War Tanks?’

  ‘Yep,’ I said. ‘I just want to relax on the couch and think about my wickets.’

  ‘It’s a date.’ Dad shrugged. ‘I guess we can put Grandma’s fish in the freezer.’

  The rock in my throat went away.

  Until Dad said, ‘Better still, let’s just drop by Grandma’s while the fish is nice and fresh, and watch World of War Tanks straight after. Deal?’

  The rock in my throat was there again.

  When we got to Grandma’s shop, she was in her pick-up truck with Clark Gable next to her in the front seat and a huge wardrobe on the back. She was steering with one hand and eating a hamburger with the other.

  ‘What the .. . ’ said Dad. ‘Tell me she didn’t lift that wardrobe on there herself!’ Then he saw the hamburger. ‘Mum! That’s so bad for you!’

  He parked our car and jumped out and waved at Grandma through her windscreen. ‘We’ve brought fresh fish,’ he said. ‘Throw that burger away, you’ll kill yourself!’

  Grandma rolled her eyes and beeped her horn. ‘Do you want a tyre-tread tattoo?’ she yelled, finishing the last bite of her burger.

  Dad didn’t move, so Grandma got out of her truck and slammed the door. ‘All right,’ she said. ‘Suppose I can break for a few minutes.’

  She gave Dad an evil look, but winked at me as she walked past.

  ‘Great,’ said Dad. ‘Let’s go inside and have a nice cup of tea. I’ll put the fish in the fridge and then we’ll tell you Toby’s fantastic news.’

  7th FEBRUARY

  I don’t want to talk about our visit to Grandma, but last night I had the worst dream ever. I was at the FA Cup Final with lots of other people, and I was wearing nothing but Spiderman underpants.

  Coach saw me shivering.

  ‘I’ve got some cricket gear in the car.’ He took keys from his pocket. ‘But it mightn’t be your size.’

  ‘Please!’ I said. ‘Anything is better than wearing underpants! I’m freezing!’

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bsp; Coach came back with one of Claire’s bright red miniskirts and some frilly pink stockings. He even had a bikini top.

  ‘Hey!’ I yelled. ‘You said it was cricket gear!’

  ‘I lied!’ said Coach. ‘But you’d know all about that, wouldn’t you? Because you’re a liar too!’

  Then Coach made me put the girly clothes on and I fell over in front of everyone because I was wearing high heels. The crowd booed.

  ‘Liar, liar, red skirt on fire!’ said McGarvy, who was sitting in the crowd next to my dad. They were sharing hot chips and drinking fizzy. Jonesy and Hughesy laughed and gave McGarvy a huge high-five from their seats in front.

  ‘Ain’t that the truth!’ said my mum.

  ‘Couldn’t lie straight in bed, that boy.’ It was Grandma, sitting between the commentators.

  8th FEBRUARY

  I’ve had two long days of feeling like someone in jail because of my lie, especially because the lie involved Grandma as well as Dad. But today is a good day, because it’s finally my birthday.

  I didn’t get a monitor lizard, but I did get a new watch. It tells the time in different countries, which is really cool if the Baggy Greens or the All Blacks are playing overseas. It doesn’t have an alarm, but it is waterproof to three hundred and fifty metres.

  I also got some drums. Mum told Dad to buy the quiet ones with the headphones. Guess what? He didn’t buy the quiet ones with the headphones. And when Mum complains about the noise I say, ‘But you guys bought them!’ Then Dad tells me to stop being so clever. I guess he thinks you should be clever at school but not at home.

  At Dad’s work, people don’t have to go in on their birthday. I wish it was the same with school. I’m sure whoever came up with birthdays didn’t want anyone to do schoolwork on them. Your birthday should be a holiday when you can make water bombs and stay up past your bedtime.

  In class, all I could think about was my watch and my drums and what cake Dad might be making.

  At lunchtime Hughesy and Jonesy told me they had bought me the best present in the history of presents.