by David Warner
Davey turned to see Bella arriving, flanked by Mo, Nero and Tony carrying her bags. They placed them in a pile with everyone else’s luggage and stood around.
Davey immediately knew something was up. ‘What are you doing here, Clouter? Come to gloat?’
Bella explained, ‘Mo has volunteered to join the cheer squad.’
Mo gave an exaggerated bow and guffawed.
‘How many people are on this cheer squad?’ asked Sunil. ‘It’s bigger than the cricket team.’
‘I doubt Mo joined up to show off his melodious singing voice and amazing dance steps. No, you’re up to something.’
Mo shrugged. ‘That’s for me to know and you to find out.’
Davey and Sunil shared a look. This was all they needed. Mo had a long history of trying to sabotage games. He was a footy fan and hated cricket as much as Mudge did.
Just then Ms Maro arrived. Despite the warm weather, she was dressed for winter with a colourful woollen scarf wrapped tightly around her neck.
‘Come nice and close please,’ she said in a husky whisper. ‘I’m afraid I have some bad news.’
More bad news?
‘I have a throat infection and am too unwell to come with you.’ Ms Maro looked for a minute as if she might cry. Davey felt terrible for her. ‘But I do have some good news. I have found a replacement and he’s eager to get going.’
BEEP!
The bus’s horn rang out. It wasn’t a happy beep. It was an impatient, I’m holding my hand on the horn, type of beep.
BEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEP!
Mo looked to see who the driver was and burst out laughing. ‘Sucks to be you, Warner,’ he crooned.
Davey looked up at the bus driver. It was Ms Maro’s replacement – Mr Mudge.
CHAPTER 4
ROAD TRIP REBELLION
‘Why Mudge?!’ Davey asked for the millionth time. ‘Mudge hates cricket.’
Mudge held his hand down on the horn.
BEEEEEEEEEEEEEP!
The last member of the team – arriving a bit late – got the fright of his life and scurried onto the bus. The ancient hydraulic doors jerked to a close and let out a sinister hiss.
‘It’s not a bus, it’s Mudge’s death trap,’ muttered Davey.
With an effort, Mudge heaved himself up from the driver’s seat and faced the back of the bus.
‘Let’s get one thing straight. I don’t like cricket. If I had any say in the matter, driving a bus full of cricket players is the last thing I’d be doing for the next two days. But I have been asked to do this as a personal favour for a, ahem, friend . . .’
At the mention of his special friend, Mudge’s cheeks grew flushed, perfectly matching his crimson ears, which often gave a good indication of his mood.
‘A close friend and . . . erm, colleague asked for me personally.’ Mudge cleared his throat. He looked a bit hot around the collar.
‘Lavinia,’ Davey whispered to the others. They nodded knowingly. It was a badly kept secret that Mr Mudge had a huge crush on their principal, Mrs Trundle.
‘I found myself compelled to say yes. BUT . . .’ Mudge’s ears coloured to a dark magenta, ‘I do not have to be happy about it!’
Mudge sank back into his seat. They could hear him muttering about where to find the gearstick.
‘Wake me up when the nightmare’s over.’ George sank down in his seat and closed his eyes.
Finally the bus started with a shudder and Mudge cranked the gears into place. They were off! The scenery passed by at a snail’s pace. Anyone who had ever been on an excursion with Mudge knew that he was incapable of driving faster than 60 kilometres per hour, even on the freeway.
Just great, thought Davey dismally. We’re going to have a cheerleading squad who want to sabotage us and a stand-in coach who hates the game.
‘Look on the bright side,’ said Sunil in his most upbeat vice-captain’s voice.
‘What bright side?’
‘It can’t get any worse,’ Sunil deadpanned.
AARGH! Just then a bloodcurdling scream filled the bus. Lachlan jumped out of his seat faster than a rat up a drainpipe.
He pointed to the floor. ‘Some creature tried to climb my leg!’ he spluttered and hightailed it to the back of the bus. Caspar Chan followed.
Davey and his friends immediately dropped to the floor to take a look at the beast.
‘No way!’
Lying stretched out on the floor of the bus, panting happily, was Max.
‘How did you get in here?’ Davey whispered at him.
The cheeky dog must have followed him to the pick-up point. Davey reached for him, but Max was too fast. He scurried further down the bus towards the front.
‘Get back here!’ Davey tried to keep his voice down. He climbed underneath the seat and commando crawled towards Max.
Woof!
Max was loving the attention.
‘Ssh!’ Kevin, Davey and Sunil all hissed in unison.
‘What’s going on back there?’ Mudge’s beady eyes peered at them through the rear vision mirror.
‘Nothing, Sir!’ Sunil called. ‘Just swapping seats.’
It was a stand-off or, in this case, more of a lie-off. Davey glared at Max. Max grinned at Davey and wagged his tail.
Davey spoke quietly and calmly to his dog. After all, Davey was the boss. ‘Come here, Max, or you’re dog meat!’
Max continued to ignore everything Davey said.
Davey lunged again for the foxie, but missed. Max shot down to the front of the bus like a furry cannonball. Davey could only watch helplessly as Max emerged from under the seats at the front of the bus and jumped onto Mudge’s lap.
‘AAARRGGHHHH!’
The brakes screeched, the smell of burned rubber filled the air and the bus shuddered to a stop by the side of the road.
‘WAR-NER!’
‘Yes, Mr Mudge?’ Davey answered, cowering at the back of the bus.
‘This is your stinking fleabag little MONGREL, isn’t it?’ Mudge hollered.
‘Um . . .’ Davey looked around, but there was nowhere to run. ‘Yep.’
‘Get down here and take this confounded dog out of my sight!’
Mr Mudge’s ears were an off-the-scale ‘Extreme Danger’ purple.
‘Sorry, Sir, he must have followed me.’
Mudge waved a hand dismissively, ‘I don’t care to hear the details. Take it away.’
Davey took Max from Mr Mudge and returned to his seat. This was bad. Davey knew he was toast. He just hoped that Mudge would still let him play cricket.
After all the excitement, Max was tuckered out and slept on the floor at Davey’s feet. The rest of the trip was like slow torture for Davey. Car after car tooted at their slow bus and then overtook while gesturing at Mudge to drive faster.
Inside the bus, Bella took the opportunity to practise cheerleading chants and songs.
‘And let’s do that one again. Give me an S!’
George groaned as he put his fingers in his ears. ‘There should be a law against Mo singing. He sounds like a strangled cat.’
‘I’d like to know what he has up his sleeve.’ Sunil eyed the tiresome turnip warily.
None of Davey’s mates were fooled by Mo’s phoney cheerleading act.
Finally Mudge turned off the freeway. They had reached the country now. Large green fields were dotted with cows, sheep and horses. They crossed a wooden bridge which led into the small town of Harmony, a historic farming town with a great sporting history.
After a few turns, Mudge pulled over at a cricket ground. Davey could see that a team was practising. The pitch was beautifully cared for and the grandstand was spectacular.
Sunil gave a low whistle.
‘But they’re enormous!’
Even from a distance, the players looked huge. Tall and broad-shouldered, they couldn’t be only eleven years old, could they?
CHAPTER 5
WHACKERS WARFARE
The Slammers jostled with eac
h other to get off the bus. They were all eager to get moving after sitting for so long. Max was the most eager, but Mudge cut him off.
‘You stay right there, you mangy mutt!’
As the foxie’s black nose sniffed expectantly at the fresh country air, the doors came slamming down on him.
Humph!
Max eyeballed Mudge through the glass, then he jumped up onto Mudge’s seat, circled it three times and curled up in a ball.
‘Blasted dog!’
Mudge looked around for someone to blame. His gaze rested on Davey.
‘Not one more incident! Are we clear, War-ner?’
‘Crystal, Sir,’ Davey nodded.
The Slammers stood in a group and took in the Whackers. The players were out on the ground going through some fielding drills. They practised high catches and caught them all.
Their ground drills were pretty good, too. Fielder after fielder ran in, cleanly picked up the rolling ball and rocketed it back, straight over the stumps to the keeper.
Josh whistled. ‘Stop messing around with your mutt and get your head in the game,’ he said to Davey.
‘Max being here is not my fault!’ Davey exclaimed.
Josh gave him a withering look. ‘I can’t do it all on my own, Warner.’
‘You’re gonna go down in flames, Warner,’ jeered Mo, nudging Davey.
Davey ignored the great lump. But he could feel the pressure building inside him.
‘Mr Mudge, I think you’re about to meet the Whackers’ coach.’ Sunil pointed to a tall, muscular man about the same age as Mudge striding across the field towards them.
‘Ah, Slammers!’ he declared, clapping his hands together. ‘Welcome to our home turf. These are the Whackers,’ he said, pointing to a bunch of fit-looking kids.
The Whackers gave them hard stares as they took a break and sat at the clubhouse steps.
‘I think the guy over there with the stubble just growled at me,’ Sunil whispered to Davey.
‘Mo wasn’t exaggerating,’ Davey said glumly.
The Whackers’ coach pumped Mudge’s hand enthusiastically. ‘Now . . . you don’t look like Ms Maro!’
‘Eugene Mudge.’ He looked comically short standing next to the oversized coach. He had to crane his neck to look up at him.
‘Excellent, oh, and I’m Gary Grinaldi, coach and manager.’
‘The Gary Grinaldi?’ asked Kevin.
Gary nodded. ‘One and the same. I played a few Tests for Australia a long time back.’
‘Wow,’ said Davey, Sunil and Kevin in unison. Even Mo had the decency to look awestruck.
‘Where have you played, Eugene?’ Gary asked.
‘I’ve bowled for New South Wales several times, but injury forced me into early retirement,’ Mudge replied.
‘I’m surprised we haven’t crossed paths before,’ Gary said.
Mudge laughed. ‘Oh, I don’t mean bowling in the cricket sense of the word! I mean bowls, lawn bowls.’ Mudge sniffed and felt in his pocket for a hanky. ‘At an elite level too, I’ll have you know.’
Mudge blew his nose loudly. Gary looked momentarily lost for words, but recovered quickly.
‘Anything you need, just let me know,’ Gary said. ‘We’ll give you some space to check out the pitch.’
Josh got into captain mode. ‘Come on, team, we need to loosen up after the long bus trip. A few stretches and then some fielding.’
Davey knew he was a good fielder and wanted to show the Whackers that the Slammers were not going to be a walkover.
‘Hit me a high one,’ he called to Josh.
Josh picked up a bat and set a towering catch deep into the outfield about twenty metres away from Davey. Davey ran flat out after it, keeping his eye on the trajectory of the ball. He didn’t notice a wet patch on the field around a sprinkler head. As he was about to catch the ball, he hit mud.
‘Woah!’
Davey’s legs flew out from under him and he fell flat on his back, the ball landing harmlessly beside him.
Davey was winded, covered in mud and, as he lay looking at the sky, he could hear the sound of laughter. It was funny. Even his teammates couldn’t help laughing. Caspar had tears rolling down his face.
The Whackers thought it was hilarious. ‘Way to go!’ one of them called out.
‘I’d pay ten bucks to see that again!’ shouted another, as they left the ground.
Davey got up smiling ruefully, but that turned into a scowl when he saw that even Mudge was cracking up.
Once everyone had calmed down, Davey, Josh and Sunil took the opportunity to look at the pitch.
‘Looks like an excellent wicket for batting. Sunil will have his work cut out for him on a track like this,’ Davey said.
‘Every catch will have to be taken, and the batsmen will need to wait for the right ball to hit. Selective aggression, like Dermot said,’ Josh said to Davey.
‘Not you too,’ groaned Davey.
‘Wicket’s a bit grassy, but there might be some bounce and deviation,’ Sunil observed. ‘If I get it in the right places, I could pick up a few.’
Mo shook his head at them when they gathered around at the end of practice.
‘I was going to prank you guys, but I’ve changed my mind. It will be more fun watching the Whackers finish you off,’ Mo announced. ‘You lot are so doomed.’
CHAPTER 6
CAST AWAY
They were a sombre group as Mudge started the bus engine. It growled to life, then shuddered and promptly cut out.
‘Aargh, come on, you old hunk of junk!’ Mudge turned the key again and again, but it did no good. The engine would fire up and then peter out again.
‘Sir, you might flood the engine,’ Davey warned.
‘Zip it, Warner!’
Mudge turned the key again and pumped the pedal.
‘You’re going to flood the carburettor!’
‘Warner – PUT A SOCK IN IT!’ Mudge bellowed.
The engine flooded.
Mudge’s fire-engine-red ears looked as though they might blow. ‘So help me, Warner, if you say one word, I will –’
Gary tapped on the driver’s window. ‘Need some help?’
‘Mmm . . . yes please,’ Mudge said gratefully. ‘I’m not very mechanically minded.’
‘No problem.’ Gary studied their old bus incredulously. ‘I’ll bring my truck around and give the old girl a once-over.’
Mudge turned to the others. ‘You lot stay here.’
Bella saw her moment and took it. ‘Perfect opportunity for us to get some cheering practice in!’
‘Give it a rest, Bella,’ George groaned.
‘Practice makes perfect.’ Bella flicked her ponytail off her shoulder.
It seemed to take forever, but Gary got the engine running and eventually they could leave. Not, however, before Mudge had stalled the bus twice. When he finally pulled out of the car park, he bunny-hopped the bus an impressive five times.
‘See you in the morning!’
The sound of Gary’s cheerful booming laugh could be heard from blocks away.
Mudge navigated the bus the three blocks to their motel. He wouldn’t let anyone else help him with the map, which he had spread across his lap, so he had to pull over every time he needed to look at it. Still, they only managed to get lost four times and drive down a one-way street the wrong way.
Finally they arrived at the motel. Davey felt dejected, cold and muddy. He was looking forward to getting to the motel and having a shower. He suspected he’d stepped in dog poo – Max seemed far too interested in what was under his boots.
‘You stink, Warner!’ Mo announced loudly, holding his nose.
They walked towards the motel’s main building which was long, low and made entirely of concrete.
‘You kids let me do the talking!’ Mudge was growing increasingly irritated and what little patience he’d had was long gone.
They squashed inside the motel’s reception area. Davey almost knocked over a
limp pot plant in the corner of the room, but Sunil caught it. Davey grinned, whispering, ‘Nice save!’
Mudge rang the bell.
They waited. And waited.
And waited.
Just as Mudge slammed his hand down on the brass bell again, a woman emerged from a doorway behind the desk.
‘All right, all right,’ she squinted at them through steel-rimmed glasses.
‘We have a group booking for Maro,’ Mudge announced wearily.
The woman looked at the group of muddy, smelly children and frowned. She peered in a large and grubby register book. ‘Nothing here.’
Mudge’s ears flared a deep pink. ‘Try Mudge. Ms Maro may have changed the booking name.’
They all waited while the woman looked back down at the register. As far as Davey could see, there was only one booking written down.
‘Yes, Mudge, here you are.’
‘Excellent.’ Mudge sighed with relief.
‘Strangely, there is no mention of a touring sports team that smells like a herd of feral animals.’
Mudge looked irritated. ‘Look, it’s been a long day and we’ve travelled a long way.’
The woman raised an eyebrow but turned slowly and reached up to a set of hooks behind her. Each hook held a set of keys.
Davey heard a scratch at the door and a whining sound. Max!
Mudge shot him a look that could have turned him to stone.
Davey got the message – Max was not to be discovered. Davey motioned to Max to shut up, then glanced back at the woman.
She still had her back turned.
Davey opened the door and let Max in, tucking him expertly into his backpack.
‘Did I just hear a dog?’ The woman peered suspiciously at Mudge.
Mudge cleared his throat, but his rhubarb-coloured ears were a dead giveaway.
Davey held his breath.
‘Because we don’t take pets. No animals of any kind.’
‘Absolutely. We do not have a dog or animal of any kind.’ Mudge attempted a smile, but it just looked creepy.
The woman leaned across the counter to hand the keys to Mudge just as Davey’s backpack wriggled.
He froze.
The woman pulled back her hand with the keys in it and pointed at Davey. ‘You have an animal in that bag!’