by Brett Lee
‘Two hours is all the time
So before it’s up, read these lines.’
‘Where’d you find it, Jay?’ I asked.
‘Well, I had this idea, but I wanted to see for myself. So when you guys went off down Nash Street the other day, I carefully made a slit in the back cover. And there it was! I saw it on a movie once—these guys had hidden this map in the inside cover of a book. And it was an old movie, so I thought maybe it would be the same.’
‘Well, well. Bravo, Jay. Goodness me.’ Jim seemed amazed at the discovery.
Jay was looking very pleased with himself.
‘So, who have you told?’ I asked.
‘No one!’ he retorted, sounding offended.
‘I hope not, Jay,’ Jim said gravely.
‘Well, only Rahul, but he—’
‘Rahul!’ I cried. Some of the kids turned to look at us. ‘Rahul? He’d want it more than anyone. He’d try and go back to India.’
‘There’s no one who wouldn’t want it, Toby,’ said Jim. ‘And we know that there are people who are determined to get it. Jay, may I look after it?’
‘Sure. Anyway, I had this idea,’ Jay said. ‘Toby and me, we could go into business. A travel business. We could use the scorecard to take people to games of their choice. I’d collect all the money and Toby could be the tour guide.’
Jim straightened. ‘Do you know what would really happen, Jay?’
‘I’d be making us bucketloads of money and Toby would be a worldwide sensation,’ Jay replied quickly.
‘Exactly!’ Jim said.
‘He’d be on the front covers of newspapers and magazines,’ Jay continued.
‘You are right, Jay. He’d be talked about, interviewed, quizzed, hounded and followed for the rest of his life. He’d have his brain scanned and all sorts of scientific tests done so this extraordinary phenomenon could be explained. His life would be a misery.’
Jay was defiant. ‘Well, yeah, maybe, but we’d be rich.’
‘Money doesn’t create happiness, Jay. That comes from within.’
There was a commotion at the door and Mr Smale burst in. ‘Ah!’ he cried, pointing at us. By now the class, with their teacher and David, had left via the secret door.
‘Phillip. Do join us,’ Jim said, managing to hide the scorecard just in time.
Smale looked from me to Jim then back to me.
‘Jim, I brought in some of the family cricket archives. The 1912 programs we were talking about, do you recall?’
‘Well, certainly, Phillip. I’d be most—’
‘It appears that one has gone missing. I think perhaps before the children leave we should check them both.’
‘Phillip, I hardly—’
‘Those programs are very valuable, Jim. You said so yourself. I certainly won’t be bringing in any more of the cricket material under these circumstances.’
Jim looked at me and Jay. ‘Is that all right, boys?’
We stood up and turned out our pockets.
Smale looked disappointed. ‘Well, everything seems to be in order. Jim?’
‘Phillip, are you suggesting that I—’
‘If everyone is searched then I will be satisfied that the fault lies with me and that perhaps I have misplaced one of the programs,’ Smale said coolly.
Somehow he’d latched onto us and he wasn’t letting go. Did he know the scorecard was only a metre away?
‘Phillip, I understand your concern,’ Jim said evenly. ‘However, I will not be searched in front of visitors to the library.’
Smale looked like he was about to argue, but Jim held his gaze. Suddenly he smiled.
‘Thank you, Jim. I’m sorry about all this. I’m just rather upset at the thought of one of those 1912 programs disappearing. I shall go and speak with David and the teacher of the group currently visiting.’
Jim nodded and turned to us. ‘Well, boys, thank you for coming to see me.’ He held out his hand and I felt the scorecard, cool against my palm.
‘Goodbye, Jay.’ Jim shook his hand too.
I kept my hand in my pocket, closed gently but firmly around the scorecard, until we had left the building.
‘Got it,’ I muttered to Jay as we left.
When India played Australia in a Twenty20 match in Melbourne on 1 February 2008, they managed a rare feat. It was the first and, so far, only time that 10 of the 11 batters didn’t reach double figures. Only Irfan Pathan managed to get to double figures, making 26 out of a total of 74.
15 How Much Does Scott Know?
Thursday—morning
I put the scorecard in a tight plastic pocket—the type card-shop owners sell expensive cricket cards in—and, thinking it would be safer if it was with me allthe time, I took it to school. Big mistake.
It must have happened during the lesson before recess. We were playing touch football out on the oval. I didn’t want the card to get creased or damaged, so I put it in my pencil case and left it in my bag. When I checked on it at the start of recess it had gone.
I immediately thought of Jay and set off to find him, but no one had seen him. Then I started to panic. I flew up to the library, thinking he might have borrowed one of the Wisdens that the school had recently bought. None of them were on the shelves.
‘Miss Thomson, can you tell me who’s got the Wisdens?’ I said urgently. ‘It’s just that I’m about to give a talk and I’ve got to check on some info. I was—’
‘Well, I can tell you who’s got one of them. Jay Barclay. He borrowed it about half an hour ago. Hang on, I’ll check the other one.’ She pushed some buttons on the keyboard, but I didn’t wait to find out. ‘Thanks,’ I called, running out again.
Where would he go? I headed down to the boys’ toilets. I saw the Wisden straight away. It was lying open on the floor in the farthest cubicle.
I dashed forwards and picked it up, desperately trying to read any of the words. I didn’t notice the sound of footsteps till they stopped just outside the door.
‘Catching up on a bit of reading, are we?’ Scott Craven snarled. ‘Why you gotta do it in the toilets?’
‘Forget it, Scott,’ I said, folding the corner of the page to bookmark it and moving to get past him.
‘Forget what?’
He moved to block my path.
I opened the book again. ‘Scott, what’s it say on this page?’
‘Can’t you read, Toby Jones?’
‘No. Not this book. The writing’s too small. Just give me a few words. Please?’
In spite of the desperation in my voice, he wouldn’t help.
‘You know, you really annoy me, Jones.’
He edged closer, backing me against the far wall of the cubicle. ‘You think you’re the world’s best cricketer, but you’re not. You get all the attention—’
I’d had enough. I pushed him away so hard that he reeled into the door, banging his head against it before crashing to the ground. The Wisden landed next to him.
He got to his feet, blazing with anger. ‘We’re gonna keep this quiet, eh, Jones?’
He came at me, his hands raised. I ducked, then body-slammed him straight back into the door, which was slowly opening. Again he crashed to the floor, this time dazed.
‘Use your fists and fight properly,’ he said, struggling to get up.
‘Can you just read this one bit for me?’ I asked again. He flung out his right arm and I saw his fist heading for my face. Without knowing quite how, I threw up my right arm, deflecting his punch.
‘There’s no need to fight. I’m just asking you to read a few lines from the Wisden,’ I said.
Lunging at me, Scott tripped and crashed to the floor. He doubled over, struggling for breath. I grabbed him by the shirt and yanked him up, then pushed him against the cubicle wall.
‘You want to help, Scott, or what?’
He swore, then came at me again, but I was ready. I put up my arms again, but this time surprised him by throwing out a hard punch. It caught him unawar
es. He staggered back.
I picked up the Wisden, found the right page and thrust the book beneath his face.
‘Read,’ I hissed.
‘11 M-march,’ he whispered. ‘World C-cup semifinal.’ He looked up at me. ‘What is it with—’
‘Just read!’
‘Australia v New Zealand. Madras—’
‘The date?’ I hissed. ‘When was it? Point!’
His eyes searched the page.
‘Here. I said, 11 March—’
Suddenly Scott slammed the book closed and barged past me. He was out of the toilets in a flash. I set off after him but at the end of the corridor almost knocked over Mr Beechworth, the vice-principal.
‘Why the rush, Toby Jones? Just walk back to class.’
‘But—’
‘Immediately!’
I walked as quickly as I dared back to the classroom. As I’d suspected, neither Rahul nor Jay was there. Mr Pasquali raised his eyebrows at me but didn’t say anything. I scrawled a message on a scrap of paper and tossed it across to Georgie when Mr Pasquali’s back was turned.
Where’s Rahul and Jay?
She shrugged.
When I caught up with her at lunchtime, I told her all about the scorecard and that I thought they might have travelled to India.
‘Well, if you’re dumb enough to leave the scorecard lying around, and knowing what we know about Jay, it was bound to happen.’
It wasn’t the answer I’d expected. She must have seen my look of disappointment.
‘Don’t worry,’ she said. ‘Leave it till the end of school.’
‘But they’ve only got two hours. They’ll probably forget that in their excitement.’
‘Well, maybe they’re back already. Why not go and look?’
I hung around the toilets all lunchtime but there was no sign of them. For the last 10 minutes I actually shut the door of the far cubicle and sat there. It felt weird to think that any minute I might get squashed by two kids coming through from another time. Maybe I’d actually see them reappear.
After lunch, as happened on every other day, the class roll was taken.
‘Anyone seen Jay and Rahul?’ Mr Pasquali asked.
‘I think they might still be helping out with some jobs in the office,’ Georgie said quickly. ‘Mr Beechworth said to say they’d be a bit late.’
‘Okay. Thanks, Georgie. Right, maths books out, please.’
The afternoon lesson dragged on.
Finally I said to Georgie: ‘I’ve got to tell him.’
‘Don’t be stupid. What on earth can Mr Pasquali do? Just tell their parents, your parents, the whole school—’
Mr Pasquali interrupted our whispers. ‘Georgie, go and see how Jay and Rahul are getting on, would you?’
‘Can I go too, Mr P?’ I asked.
‘I think Georgie can handle this mission solo, right, Georgie?’
‘Guess so, Mr Pasquali.’
A few minutes later she returned. I watched her closely. The day was becoming a series of lies.
‘Um, they said that Jay was sick and he’s gone home. But since there wasn’t anyone at his place, Rahul’s parents came to collect him and they took both Rahul and Jay home.’ She stared at Mr Pasquali a moment, almost daring him to challenge her, then went back to her seat.
‘Looks like they’ll miss training,’ I added, a bit lamely.
‘Let’s hope they’re both well enough for Saturday,’ said Mr Pasquali, who looked puzzled.
Georgie put her head down, as though her maths had suddenly become totally engrossing. I looked over at Scott Craven. He also had his head down, but his eyes were roving about, taking in everything. I was pretty sure he wouldn’t say anything about what had happened in the toilets.
After school Georgie and I were called into the office.
‘Now, no more games, you two. Where are Jay and Rahul?’ demanded Mr Beechworth.
‘We don’t know. They’ve left the school, that’s all we know,’ I explained. And it was the truth—though not all the truth.
‘This is very serious. Their parents—’
There was a sudden commotion in the hallway outside and we all turned to look. We heard raised voices and Mr Beechworth went to investigate.
‘So, what else do we say?’ I muttered to Georgie who was looking worried.
Then: ‘It’s them!’ she cried. We hurried to the door and looked out into the corridor. Mr Pasquali was also out there and so were Jay’s and Rahul’s parents.
Jay and Rahul both looked wrecked. Their clothes were torn and their faces were filthy. They also looked spooked.
Mr Pasquali turned to Georgie and me. ‘Off to training, you two. We’ll deal with your side of the story later.’
I went through the motions at training. Georgie was equally distracted and even Scott was subdued. Rahul and Jay never turned up. Mr Pasquali finally arrived, 15 minutes late. He thanked Jono for organising the nets and didn’t say anything more about it.
I hung around with Georgie afterwards, helping pack up the kit, knowing that it would be better to cop it from Mr P now rather than later.
‘You have disappointed me, both of you,’ he said. ‘Don’t you ever, ever let that happen again. It was totally irresponsible of you to lie for them the way you did. We have a hard enough time as it is looking after students within the boundaries of this school, let alone when they take it into their heads to run off on some silly adventure. Do I make myself clear?’
‘Yes, Mr Pasquali,’ we both said. I looked up at his face as I spoke. He was obviously very upset. He nodded curtly, pointed to the kit, then headed off. After ten or so paces he stopped and turned. Neither of us had moved.
‘I hope Mr Beechworth isn’t thinking cricket when he speaks with you tomorrow morning. He wants to see you at 8.30 in his office. Don’t be late.’ He walked back towards the school buildings.
I turned to Georgie when Mr Pasquali was out of hearing. ‘Get into CROC tonight, 8.30, okay?’
‘Couldn’t you pick another time?’ she said sarcastically.
I didn’t get what she meant until I was halfway home.
Thursday—evening
CROC (cricket online chat) was a chatroom we had devised to discuss cricket, and other things too. Only a few kids had the password. I just hoped that Jay and Rahul would log on. I’d rung a few times before dinner but both phones were engaged.
Georgie, Jay and Rahul were on when I logged on just after 8.30. I was afraid to ask Rahul directly about his brother and his whole family situation. Hopefully it would just come out.
Toby: well?
Jay: sorry
Toby: what happened?
Rahul: i’ll tell, jay. we tried to go back to india
Jay: it was my idea
Rahul: true, but i encouraged it
Georgie: did you achieve anything?
Rahul: save my brother, no. it was dumb, i think we were about 2 days out
Toby: you were away for more than 2 hours though
Rahul: i know, we got stuck on a bus. the freak guy with the cloak saved us
Toby: what?
Georgie: the same one that almost killed toby?
Rahul: yep, it was soooo weird
Jay: he gave me a message for you toby
Rahul: dad’s calling
Georgie: you guys in trouble?
Jay: not so bad, my folks reckon i deserve what punishment i get at school
Rahul: i’m grounded on top of that
Toby: where’s the scorecard?
Jay: i’ve got it, and i’m giving it back to you tomorrow toby, promise
Toby: bloody hope so jay
Georgie: jay?
Rahul: guys, talk tomorrow, okay?
Georgie: cya, rahul
Toby: yep. bye rahul well, jay?
Jay: what can i say? it was dumb and i did wrong. big time. i’m sorry, toby. toby? you there? toby…c’mon, man.
Georgie: toby?
Toby: what was i
t like?
Jay: shocking. horrible. smelly. we walked forever. there were people everywhere, on buses, walking on the roads. it was like rahul was possessed. if i’d known there’s no way i would have gone.
Georgie: it was dumb, jay
Jay: so you’ve said, both of you, i know. you can have the stupid scorecard toby.
Toby: jay, you are bloody lucky
Jay: what?
Georgie: you might not have come back at all
Jay: yeah, i know
Toby: i’m going, jay, tell me everything tomorrow
Jay: we still friends?
Toby: course we are, idiot
Jay: bye
Georgie: bye guys
16 Rescue at the Station
Friday—morning
GEORGIE and I received a spray from Mr Beechworth and three lunchtime detentions. Rahul and Jay copped it worse. They had ‘a Friday’: an hour and a half detention after school, as well as litter duty for three lunchtimes.
They filled us in on the details during recess, and Jay handed me the scorecard.
‘So what happened, you know, when the two hours were up?’
‘We’d completely lost track of the time. We’d got on this crowded bus and were heading towards the outskirts of town where this river supposedly was,’ Jay said.
‘Yeah, then suddenly, like he’s walking out of a mist, the same guy who was after us at Hobart is calmly walking down the bus towards us,’ said Rahul. ‘No one else seems to notice him. He like, just walks straight past them.’
‘Through them, remember?’ said Jay.
‘Whatever. Then he’s talking to us. “You’re in trouble now, boys. Look at yourselves.”’
‘What did he mean?’ asked Georgie.
‘We were sort of disappearing ourselves. We couldn’t feel it, but it was true. We were getting paler and paler. “Soon you’ll disappear completely,” the guy laughed.’
‘Didn’t you realise yourselves? How come you didn’t notice?’ I asked, amazed.
‘We were so distracted and excited and worrying about everything that was going on around us. It was all so noisy and bumpy.’