by Justin Brown
We jumped in the bus and Moses drove us to a village. My toe was crying like a baby, but I didn’t tell anyone.
As we jumped out of the bus it started to rain. I couldn’t believe that. On the postcards it never rains in Fiji! It wasn’t just spitting, either. It was raining cats and dogs and Fijian turtles.
And what about this? The Fijian boys didn’t even have a ball!
They were playing rugby with an empty plastic Coke bottle.
‘Coke bottles instead of balls? We’re gonna waste them!’ said McGroovy.
‘Complacency will get you nowhere,’ said Coach from behind us.
‘Comp-what?’ said Hughesy.
‘Complacency,’ said Coach. ‘If they can score tries with plastic bottles, think what they’ll be able to do with a ball.’
‘Yeah,’ said McGroovy. ‘Nothing!’
‘We’re gonna leave them in our dust!’ said Jonesy.
‘You boys have a lot of growing up to do,’ said Coach. ‘Many kids here don’t have the luxuries you take for granted.’
‘But who doesn’t own a rugby ball?’ said McGroovy. ‘I’ve got four.’
We stood at the halfway line and faced the first Fijian team. They were so big they made McGroovy look like a stick insect. It made me feel slightly better that they smiled at us.
‘Bula! ’ they said.
‘Um, bula,’ I said, which Mum had told me was Fijian for ‘hello’.
‘You ready for game?’ said the biggest Fijian boy.
‘Yep,’ said McGroovy. ‘But be careful, we’re stronger and faster than any of you guys.’
‘No, we’re not!’ whispered Jonesy. ‘Especially not since Toby—’ McGroovy hissed and punched Jonesy.
‘Shh!’ he said. ‘Look right into their eyes.‘Don’t let them know we’re scared. Make out we’re tough as tough.’
Hughesy and Jonesy and I gulped.
We stared at the Fijians and they stared at us for a long time. They all had hairs under their arms. One of them even had a moustache. Their captain was bigger than Dad. And none of them had shoes on.
‘Are .. . we tough?’ Jonesy whispered.
McGroovy didn’t bother to answer.
The captain put his hand on my shoulder. It felt like a rock.
‘Did you bring a ball?’ he smiled. ‘Ours is flat.’ Luckily Hughesy had one under his arm from the bus.
We kicked off.
The Fijians were like cheetahs. Quick like fire. And we sucked. Our team were like fat, blind hippos who dropped the slippery ball every time.
Coach was right.
How come we needed Motion Lotion but the Fijians weren’t even sweating?
They scored nine tries and we scored two.The good news is that I got both of them, but by that stage we’d already lost the game.
No one even tried to tackle me. The Fijians just wanted to lie under a coconut tree and talk about how much we sucked.
So did Coach.
‘I know you’ve never played here before, boys,’ he said. ‘But that was diabolical. Maybe we should practise with a plastic Coke bottle next time.’
‘They’re so fast!’ said Hughesy.
‘So shut down their open style of play. Get the ball to McGarvy or Toby.’ Coach looked at me. ‘You weren’t yourself out there, Toby’ he said. ‘What’s going on?’
‘Just hot, Coach,’ I said, trying not to listen to my purple toe screaming like Max when he drops his lollipop in the sandpit.
It hurt so much I couldn’t even think.
Nighttime, 21st AUGUST
Moses sang all the way to the second village, but everyone else on the bus was quiet. We were embarrassed.
The rain got really heavy. Coconut trees swayed like crazy. It was a storm! Our next ground was like a gigantic bowl of chocolate sauce.
This time Fiji kicked off. There was water and mud everywhere. Everyone was soaked.
Then a dog ran onto the field and stole our ball. Everyone except me chased the dog. Even the referee!
The dog was smiling when the Fijian cap–taintackled him, but the rugby ball was as flat as a pancake with teeth marks all over it.
Luckily Coach had his big bag of rugby balls in the bus. But when he went to get them, Moses was gone.
‘Where did the driver go?’ Coach asked some kids who were watching.
‘Fishing!’ they said. ‘He said he will be back when you finish your game.’
The rain got heavier and now we didn’t even have a ball. Then the Fijian captain ran to a hut by the field and came back with a big plastic Coke bottle.
‘Game on!’ he said. ‘Let’s go!’
The Fijians ran off with the bottle and we watched them score the first try. They were pros! ‘This is ridiculous!’ growled Coach. ‘We didn’t come all this way to throw a plastic bottle around!’
All I can say is, Coach must have forgotten everything he said earlier about taking things for granted. Like balls.
At half-time Fiji were 15 points in front. We had hardly touched the bottle. Coach sat in the rain with his head in his hands.
‘It’s impossible to throw or catch that thing!’ he said. ‘Toby, your bullet pass is wasted here.’
‘I reckon we need to surprise them somehow,’ I said. ‘Invent a new pass.’
And we did.
All I can say is, I wish the second half was on TV, because we played like world champions. We passed and flicked and threw the plastic bottle as if we’d been doing it forever. There was mud in our ears and eyes and nostrils.
Everyone was laughing so much I forgot all about my sore toe.
Even Coach was laughing.
‘When in Fiji do as the Fijians do!’ he yelled.
The thing was, I couldn’t do my famous up-and-under because you can’t kick a plastic bottle very far, especially not when your toe is purple. But that didn’t stop the CGC, because McGroovy and I had developed a secret move called the Bula Bottle.
This is how it went. McGroovy ran up the wing to Fiji’s tryline, and when they tried to tackle him he flicked the ball through his legs to me.
And that’s how I scored three tries!
It was 15–all with two minutes to go.
I needed one more try to win the GameBox V3.
Hughesy got the bottle from a ruck and passed back to Jonesy. I was already running when I caught it. The first Fijian who tried to tackle me slipped over, then I saw Jonesy by my right shoulder. I passed to him just as the Fijian captain crashed me over. When I got up McGroovy had the bottle. Four Fijian players tackled him, but they ended up lying in the dirt like pigs on a farm!
There were two defenders to beat. I ran straight up the middle. I heard cheering and the slosh slosh of my feet. I thought about Mum and Dad and Max and even Claire. The Fijian number 13 missed me. Only the fullback to get past. Easy! I’d done it a gazillion times. Run towards him, pretend to go one way, but then go the other.
And that’s what I did.
The Fijian fullback huffed and puffed. He had so much mud on him he looked like he had wrestled an alligator. I could see only his teeth and eyes. But he was slow.
I had him!
The tryline was just there!
But the Fijian must have watched the same games on TV as me, because he knew my move. I went right and he went right.
Then he stood on my purple toe!
I fell over like an antelope on Animal Planet about to be swallowed by a lion. My toe hurt so much I couldn’t stand up. I just curled in a ball and clutched my foot.
I could hear McGroovy from a long way away. But I couldn’t see him. I wiped the sludge from my eyes.
There he was, right next to the tryline with the bottle.
‘Toby!’ he yelled. ‘Come on, I’ve got you covered!’
He could have scored, but he was waiting for me. The fullback and all the rest of the Fijian team were running back to get him.
All I can say is, my nine other toes must have really wanted that GameBox V3, be
cause they pushed me up and, like magic, started to get me down the field.
McGroovy waited as long as he could. Just as the Fijians whacked him, he looped the bottle to me.
I caught it.
And then I scored my tenth try.
When Jonesy high-fived me he stood on my toe, but I hardly noticed!
After the match the sun came out and we swam in the ocean until all the mud was gone. Then the Fijians showed us how to climb coconut trees. Coach was so happy he bought everyone a bottle of Coke.
‘We should save these.’ Jonesy held up his bottle. ‘We might need them if someone else wants a game!’
‘Good work, boys,’ said Coach, putting sunscreen on his nose and ears. ‘That’s what you call adapting to the conditions.’ I’m pretty sure he stared straight at my aching foot. ‘Thinking on your feet.
’ Then I had a really bad thought. What if Coach thought this wasn’t a real game because we didn’t play with a real ball?
‘So, do our tries still count as tries?’ I asked. ‘I mean, real tries?’
‘Well, Toby,’ said Coach. ‘Were we playing rugby?’
‘Yes.’
‘There’s your answer.’
28th AUGUST
We’ve been home from Fiji for almost a week. My toe still hurts but it’s getting better. It’s been so cold since we got back that Hughesy has been wearing shoes. The CGC has been practising with an empty Coke bottle every lunchtime.
But the most awesome thing about the whole week is that today was the day Dad had promised to buy the GameBox V3.
I tried not to get excited when I heard the car pull into the driveway, but I couldn’t help it. I stood at the door like a dog waiting to go for a walk.
‘Well, Tobes,’ said Dad, reaching into the back of the car and taking out a bag with a box inside it. ‘You’ve had a few ups and downs, but on the whole your mum and I are very proud. You’ve achieved some great things, which just proves what I’ve always said. The harder you work, the .. . ’
‘ . . . luckier you get!’ I said. ‘I know, Dad! Can I just have it?’
‘Have what?’ he asked.
‘The GameBox V3!’ I said. ‘Come on!’
‘Before I do, shut your eyes.’
What was he doing? I heard something big and heavy scrape across the kitchen floor.
‘Okay,’ said Dad. ‘Turn around.’
He and Mum were standing in front of something the size of my school desk and covered with brown wrapping paper.
‘I stopped by Grandma’s shop,’ said Dad. ‘She wants you to have this.’
I unwrapped the mystery present. It was the pinball machine with the naked girls on it! There was even an envelope with coins so I never had to pay. I smiled as wide as the moon!
So did Dad. ‘Thought you might like it,’ he said. ‘But . . . Grandma said she was never going to sell this!’
‘She’s not,’ said Mum. ‘She’s giving it to you.’
This is going to sound like the craziest thing in the history of the universe, but that present from Grandma was even cooler than the new GameBox V3.
Maybe one day the GameBox V3 will run out of batteries, or break like Claire’s old phone, but the pinball machine with the naked girls on it has been working ever since Grandma was at school. And Grandma won’t be here forever, but I’ll always have the pinball machine. And I’ll never sell it. Even if I play for Manchester United or the All Blacks or the Chicago Bulls, I’ll always keep it.
Maybe we can use it on the team bus.
There was a knock at the front door, but I hardly heard it because my eyes were glued to the pinball machine and Dad’s yellow plastic bag. It wasn’t easy looking at both at once.
‘That’ll be for you,’ said Dad.
‘Huh?’ I said. ‘Dad, let me open the game!’
‘Get the door,Toby,’ said Mum.
I opened the door. It was Hughesy, Jonesy and McGroovy.
Hughesy passed me my schoolbag. ‘Goober,’ he said. ‘You left this in class.’
‘What? That’s impossible. I had it just before.’
‘You better check it’s yours, then,’ said Jonesy.
There was the Chicago Bulls badge Mum had sewn on. ‘Of course it’s mine!’
‘Have a look,’ said Hughesy. ‘You never know.’
‘It’s my bag!’ I said. ‘Who else has that badge on their bag?’
‘Just check,’ said McGroovy.
Something was up. The CGC looked as if they’d done something really bad but didn’t want anyone to know.
‘If this is a dead bird,’ I said, unzipping my bag, ‘or a fish head from Dad’s chillybin, I’m going to .. . ’ And then I saw them. Four GameBox V3 games!
A basketball game!
A football game!
A cricket game!
And Beast Battle!
‘Where did you get these?’ I asked.
‘We all chipped in,’ said a voice.
It was Claire! That’s when I nearly fainted like one of those people on Fear Factor when they have to eat a scorpion.
‘Well, don’t go getting a big head,’ she said. ‘And don’t turn into a lard butt playing video games all day. And never when I want to watch Mall Girls.’
I opened the yellow plastic bag and held the GameBox V3 up to my chest.
‘You look pretty happy,’ said Dad.
I couldn’t think of anything to say.
‘But that’s not the best news, eh, McGroovy?’ said Hughesy.
‘Oh yeah!’ said McGroovy. ‘How could we forget? Mrs Martin-Edge is coming over for pizza!’
I punched McGroovy as hard as I could. Then I punched Jonesy. Then I double-punched Hughesy. ‘She’d better not be!’ I said. ‘She’ll ruin the whole day! She’ll never let me play the new GameBox V3 and she definitely won’t like the nude ladies on the pinball machine!’
‘Just joking,’ said McGroovy. ‘But we got you real good!’
‘Shot!’ said Jonesy.
‘Boom!’ said another voice from behind Dad.
It was Grandma, with Max and Clark Gable. She winked at me. ‘Still proud of you, Toby,’ she said.
So that was my year of cricket and rugby. Awesome, right? Which is why I wrote it all down in this logbook, which is not a diary because diaries smell like strawberry bubblegum. Maybe whoever finds this logbook in a hundred years will wonder who Toby Gilligan-Flannigan was, but they’ll never find out, because by then I will have become rich and famous and will have changed my name to something cool. Something that isn’t double-barrelled.
So what about just Toby? I mean, if you were a really famous sports star people should know you even by half your name.
Like Pelé.
Or Jonah.
Or Beckham.
Or Jordan.
But maybe not. So what if whoever finds this logbook discovers it was written by a guy who played for Manchester United and the All Blacks and the Chicago Bulls and the Australian cricket team and his name was Toby Gilligan-Flannigan?
Boom!
ABOUT THE AUTHOR
Justin Brown is an author, and TV and radio host. He wrote his first book when he was seven (complete with ISBN and recommended retail price) but waited a few more decades to publish his next book. He has since written twenty-five books, including several popular stories for children. When he’s not writing, Justin hangs out with his family, plays the ukulele, watches and plays sport, and perfects his one and only party trick: making penguins out of bananas.
justinbrownbooks.com
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