Academy Smash

by Michael Panckridge

  By the time Billy had returned the megaphone to Olga, thanked her again, promised he’d return to help pack up and darted across the lawn into the market area, he knew that Mrs Butterwhump had probably made it back to her ticket booth. With all of Billy’s money.

  Saturday morning

  Billy knocked tentatively on the ticket booth door.

  ‘Go away, I’m busy!’ Mrs Butterwhump’s voice boomed from within, causing Billy to jump back a few steps.

  How did she know it was me? he wondered, rubbing his sweaty hands on his shorts and taking a small step towards the booth. No doubt she was counting out all the money right now and didn’t want to be disturbed.

  ‘Mrs Butterwhump?’ Billy breathed, his face almost against the door. ‘I’m sorry to bother you, but I was –’

  ‘Did you hear me?’ she thundered.

  ‘Yes, but …’

  The door suddenly flew open and Billy fell forward, tripping over and collapsing onto the dusty floorboards. Billy found himself staring at the pair of mouldy grey runners on Mrs Butterwhump’s feet. They stank!

  Mrs Butterwhump bent low. Billy could smell her putrid breath. ‘I’ve about had enough of you,’ she growled, leaning in even closer. Billy felt himself squirming for the door. ‘You’ve caused enough trouble today. Now, get out of my sight, do you hear me?’

  ‘B-But … I w-was –’

  ‘Are you a little hard of hearing, boy?’ she said menacingly. ‘Would you like me to write it down for you? I said OUT!’ she boomed. ‘And DO NOT return to Northstage Market.’

  Billy scrabbled to his knees, stumbled out the door and ran quickly back into the market.

  ‘Well, that was a complete waste of time,’ Billy said, slumping on a crate at the back of Giorgio’s stall. He, Wen-Lee and a few others had helped Olga pack up the equipment. The only reminder of the bowling competition was the Melbourne Stars batter painted on the brick wall.

  ‘You think, hmm?’ Giorgio said, placing a mango gently on a big silver dish to weigh it. Billy watched him pass it over to the customer before collecting her coins.

  ‘Giorgio, Mrs Butterwhump marched right up there and took all my money. Just like that. I mean, I don’t care if she told everyone the bowling comp was her idea, but that’s not her money, is it?’

  Giorgio carefully placed the cash he’d received into his old leather pouch.

  ‘That’s your money in your pouch there, isn’t it, Giorgio?’ Billy continued. ‘Not Mrs Butterwhump’s. Even though she’s the boss of the market.’ He hadn’t told Giorgio that he’d also been sacked from his job. He still couldn’t believe it had happened.

  ‘It is my money, young Billy. But Mrs Butterwhump owns the whole market, and if she was to come over and take my money, then I wouldn’t be sure I could stop her.’

  Billy could feel his anger rising and tried to hold back the hot tears pressing against his eyes. ‘But that’s just not fair. You’re doing all the work here. You go and buy the fruit, put it on display and stand here for hours and hours selling it. Then pack it all away and –’

  ‘Billy, what is it?’ Giorgio asked, looking concerned.

  Billy stifled a sob. ‘I think she fired me from my job!’

  ‘She what?’ Giorgio cried.

  Billy told him the conversation he’d had with her in the ticket booth.

  For a while Giorgio didn’t say anything. He just stood there, scratching the stubble on his chin. Finally, he spoke. ‘Why don’t you go home now and forget about all this. Come back Monday morning, hmm?’

  ‘But, I’ve been fired,’ Billy repeated. ‘She said I’m not allowed back.’

  ‘We’ll see about that,’ Giorgio said. Billy had never seen him looking so grim. ‘Maybe come in the back way here,’ he added, pointing to his van.

  ‘Okay.’ Billy nodded. He turned to his old friend. ‘I probably would never have got in the Melbourne Stars cricket camp, anyway. I bet it sold out ages ago.’ He brightened. ‘Hey, the people in the competition had a good time, though, didn’t they, Giorgio?’

  With a tear in his eye, the old man smiled fondly at him. ‘Billy, they had a wonderful time. Olga, especially.’ Giorgio reached out and thrust some coins into Billy’s hand. ‘Go get yourself a couple of jam donuts, hmm?’

  ‘Thanks, Giorgio,’ Billy said. ‘See you Monday, yeah?’

  ‘Oh, yes,’ Giorgio said, still smiling, before turning to serve another shopper.

  As usual, there were lines of people waiting to be served at the hot jam donuts stall. Billy stood with everyone else. When he finally reached the front of the queue, it was Wen-Lee’s older brother who greeted him.

  ‘Ah, Billy, I’ll get Wen-Lee to help you, okay?’ he said.

  ‘Sure, thanks, Ho.’ Billy grinned.

  A few moments later, Wen-Lee and Billy were sitting on a couple of plastic chairs, trying not to burn their tongues on the hot jam oozing out of the sugary donuts.

  ‘I’m really sorry with how it all ended, Billy,’ Wen-Lee said. ‘Sorry I had to leave early too. It was getting pretty busy at the stand.’

  ‘It’s okay, Wen-Lee.’ Billy stood up. ‘Oh, and happy birthday too,’ he added, giving his friend a smile. ‘I’ve got a present for you.’

  ‘You have?’

  ‘Yup. Only, it’s not here. I’ll give it to you on Monday. Giorgio told me to come back then, anyway.’

  ‘Maybe on Friday instead?’ Wen-Lee suggested. ‘We’re going away for the week, but we have to be back in town by Thursday night. No idea why.’

  ‘That’s cool,’ Billy said.

  ‘Anyway, it sounds like maybe Giorgio has a plan, with him telling you to come back on Monday, don’t you think?’ Wen-Lee hoped her voice sounded more cheerful than she felt.

  ‘Yeah, okay,’ Billy agreed, though he didn’t seem so sure himself.

  Billy spent the rest of the weekend tidying his bedroom, rearranging his cricket souvenirs and books, and watching cricket on television. His dad had promised to take him down to the Eastern Saints Cricket Club once the school term was over, but his shift work meant that he would be working nights for the next week, so Billy would have to wait another week, at least.

  Monday finally arrived, the first official day of the school holidays. Billy and his mum moved quietly about the house, careful not to wake up Billy’s dad.

  ‘I thought maybe we could go into the city this afternoon,’ Billy’s mum said, giving him a hug at the door.

  ‘That sounds good, Mum,’ Billy replied.

  ‘Maybe catch a film or something?’ she suggested.

  ‘Yeah, or we could go to the MCG?’

  Billy’s mum laughed. ‘Might leave that to your father,’ she said.

  After the busyness of the weekend, the market was always quiet on a Monday morning. Billy had decided he’d ring up the cricket academy and knew that Giorgio wouldn’t mind lending his phone. He wanted to hear himself that there were no places left. If there were places still available, it would mean another trip to visit Mrs Butterwhump.

  ‘Hello?’ Billy said into the phone. ‘Yes, I was just calling to see whether there are any places left in the Melbourne Stars Cricket Academy Camp.’ He sensed Giorgio’s eyes on him. ‘Okay,’ Billy said, after a pause. ‘No, that’s all good. I was –’

  ‘Well?’ Giorgio raised an eyebrow.

  Billy shook his head, then took the phone away from his ear. ‘She asked me if I wanted to go on a waiting list. I’d be thirty-fifth on the list.’

  ‘Thirty-fifth? Give me that,’ Giorgio said, snatching the phone from Billy.

  ‘Giorgio, there’s nothing you can do,’ Billy said. ‘I wouldn’t have ever got in. The lady said they’re completely booked out.’ But the man wasn’t listening. ‘Giorgio, seriously. You can’t just –’

  Giorgio gave Billy a wink and a thumbs-up. Billy smiled. Giorgio was the best. He obviously had no idea about cricket camps and waiting lists.

  ‘Yes? This is Giorgio. Yes, yes. That’s
right. So, I’d like you to find a place for me, hmm?’ There was a pause. Billy knew that the lady would be explaining that there were no places left.

  ‘Giorgio, it’s okay,’ Billy whispered. ‘I’ve missed out.’

  But again, Giorgio wasn’t listening. ‘You see, this boy, he’s a very poor boy. Lives in the market.’

  ‘Giorgio,’ Billy hissed.

  Giorgio wagged his finger. ‘Very, very poor. He deserves a chance, hmm? He’s a real talent. He’s the fastest and the best bowler around here,’ he continued, giving Billy a wink. Billy rolled his eyes. Giorgio paused, then his face reddened.

  ‘No, no,’ he cried, finally. ‘You see, he can’t read, and nor can I, so we never knew until –’ Giorgio held the phone away from his ear and frowned. ‘Strange, the line cut out. Now read me that number again, Billy. I think I was making some progress there.’

  ‘Giorgio, it’s okay,’ Billy said, gently taking the phone from his hand. ‘Really. The camp is full. If you did get me in, then that would mean someone would have to drop out, and that wouldn’t be fair.’

  Giorgio held his gaze, finally nodding in agreement. ‘You’re a good boy, Billy. You deserve better.’

  Thursday morning

  Billy had just settled himself down in front of the television for the Big Bash cricket match from Adelaide when his mum appeared at the door.

  ‘Phone for you,’ she said.

  ‘For me? Who is it, Mum?’

  ‘Amanda.’ She smiled.

  Billy felt himself blush. He didn’t know any Amandas. ‘Must be a wrong number.’ He shrugged, turning his attention back to the game.

  ‘She was talking about some cricket camp with the Melbourne galahs or something,’ Mrs Hunter added.

  Billy froze. ‘Melbourne Stars?’ he asked.

  ‘Stars, yes. That’s what she said. But that’s okay, I’ll tell her it’s a wrong number.’

  ‘NO! Mum, wait,’ Billy cried, jumping out of his chair and rushing to the door. His mum handed him the phone. ‘H-Hello?’ he said, suddenly aware that his heart was pounding fast.

  ‘Hi, is that Billy Hunter?’ a female voice asked.

  ‘Yes,’ Billy replied breathlessly.

  ‘Hi Billy. This is Amanda from the Melbourne Stars Cricket Academy Camp. I’m just ringing to confirm that we’ll be seeing you tomorrow morning at the MCG for the cricket camp?’

  ‘The cricket camp? Me?’

  ‘Yes, that’s right. Tomorrow? Had you forgotten?’

  What was happening? He walked back into the other living room, where his parents were. They were watching him closely. ‘Are you sure? Billy Hunter?’ Billy asked, his voice hoarse.

  ‘That’s the name I have here. Is everything okay, Billy? You see, we have quite a waiting list, so if you’re having second thoughts, we’d be happy to refund you –’

  ‘No, no!’ Billy almost shouted. ‘Sorry,’ he added, taking a deep breath. I … I, um, just woke up. I’m a bit sleepy, but it’s all good. I’ll be there.’

  ‘Be where?’ his dad asked, after Billy replaced the phone.

  Billy took a big breath. ‘Mum, Dad, I don’t know how and I don’t know who, but remember that Melbourne Stars cricket camp I was talking about? I got in!’ He noticed his parents exchange glances. ‘It was you!’ he cried, rushing over to his mum and giving her a hug.

  ‘Well, I’d like to take the credit!’ She laughed, returning Billy’s hug. ‘But your dad and I don’t know anything about it.’

  ‘You don’t?’ Billy gasped, taking a step back.

  ‘Not a thing,’ his dad confirmed. ‘You sure that wasn’t some idiot playing a prank?’ He looked at Billy’s mum.

  ‘Oh no, she was for real,’ Mrs Hunter said. Both parents turned towards Billy. ‘Do you know anyone else who could’ve booked you in?’ she asked.

  Billy shrugged. ‘I have no idea,’ he said. ‘Really.’

  ‘Right then,’ his mum said, putting her cup down on the table. ‘Best we go and hunt out some new clothes for tomorrow. What do you say?’

  ‘Great idea, Mum.’ Billy beamed, unable to take the smile off his face. He glanced over at his dad, who was also smiling.

  ‘I reckon someone’s taken a liking to you,’ he said. ‘I’ll drive you in, okay?’

  ‘Thanks, Dad.’ Billy grinned. ‘Can you record the rest of the Big Bash game on TV?’

  Billy spent half the night and most of the drive into the city the next morning wondering who had organised the whole thing.

  Had it been Wen-Lee and her parents? After all, it was she who had found and showed Billy the brochure. Or had it been Giorgio? But that was impossible. He’d spoken to them on the phone and that hadn’t worked. For now, though, it didn’t matter. He was sure he’d find out eventually.

  Friday morning

  At the front of the room, Amanda cleared her throat.

  ‘Welcome, everyone, to our Melbourne Stars Cricket Academy Camp. You’re the lucky few. There are, I think, at last count, 47 kids on the waiting list.’

  In the distance, Billy could see a group of Melbourne Stars players chatting near a huge cage of cricket nets. He recognised them as Glenn Maxwell, Meg Lanning and Ben Hilfenhaus.

  ‘First up,’ the official continued, ‘we’d like to hear a bit about you – where you play, what you do, your favourite team. Tell us about yourself, in terms of your cricket, okay?’

  ‘Hey, it’s Market Boy,’ Billy heard someone say behind him. He froze. When he turned to see who it was, his heart sank.

  He couldn’t believe it. It was the boy with the spiky hair, the one who’d teased him the other day. This time, the boy with the black hair wasn’t here, but the girl with the ponytail was. They were both dressed in their cricket whites. The girl stared at Billy.

  ‘Did you bring a bucket of apples to bowl?’ she asked.

  Billy took a deep breath.

  ‘Actually, I think I might use a real cricket ball this time,’ he said, eyeing each of them in turn.

  ‘But you’ve never bowled with one before,’ she sniggered. ‘Do you even know what a seam is?’

  ‘I’ll work it out,’ Billy replied, giving them his friendliest smile. ‘Thanks for your concern.’

  He moved away, focusing his attention back to the cricket stories everyone was sharing. But the more stories he heard, the more anxious he became. All of the kids played for a club – many had made 50 runs or taken five wickets, some mentioned that they’d been selected for rep teams. But what had Billy achieved? He sat down near the window on the far side of the room and glanced about nervously. Maybe this wasn’t the place for him. What if he wasn’t good enough? He’d never really played a proper cricket match before, only mucked around at school or the market games on Friday nights.

  Suddenly everyone was looking at him. Billy slowly got to his feet.

  ‘Hey!’ someone called.

  Billy, along with everyone else, looked up. Ben Hilfenhaus was striding over to the group. ‘Mate,’ he said, thrusting a hand out for Billy to shake. ‘Sorry we didn’t get to check out your bowling competition the other day, but I heard all about it.’

  ‘You did?’ Billy asked, incredulous.

  ‘Sure,’ Ben replied, smiling.

  ‘Okay, then, Billy. Tell us about it,’ the lady holding the clipboard suggested. Billy caught the eye of the spiky-haired boy in his whites.

  I’m better than you, Billy thought to himself. Because I don’t need to put people down to make myself feel better about myself. Giorgio, Wen-Lee and all his other friends at the market came to mind. He should feel proud, not ashamed, of how he practised his bowling with rotten fruit.

  ‘Well, I work at Northstage Market and I decided to organise a bowling competition so I could make some money to get to the cricket academy camp.’

  ‘What type of competition? Most accurate? Fastest?’ the organiser asked.

  ‘Fastest,’ Billy confirmed.

  ‘Great, and who won?’

  �
��Um, well, I did, actually,’ Billy confessed, blushing. He sensed a hundred pairs of eyes boring into him. His tongue felt dry and swollen, too big for his mouth. What else could he say?

  ‘So, Billy,’ the official pressed. Billy thought she must have felt sorry for him. ‘What’s been your favourite moment playing cricket so far?’

  ‘You mean, real cricket? Err …’

  Sniggers and stifled laughter erupted from around the room. Billy noticed the boy with spiky hair shaking his head slowly and scowling. Maybe it was time to leave.

  ‘Doesn’t mean he’s still not the fastest bowler around,’ a small voice called.

  Billy’s head shot up. ‘Wen-Lee?’

  ‘Hey Billy,’ she said with a wave as she walked towards him.

  ‘What, I mean, how –’

  ‘Surprise birthday present.’ Wen-Lee grinned, standing by his side.

  ‘Cool,’ Billy breathed, feeling better again. It was so good to have a friend with him.

  Billy finished quickly and the rest of the group, including Wen-Lee, introduced them selves before everyone was divided up into their favourite skill area. Billy went straight to the fast bowling group; Wen-Lee to the fielding group. He was glad that neither the kid with the spiky hair or his ponytailed friend had chosen his group.

  Emma Kearney and Ben Hilfenhaus introduced themselves to the seven kids who’d chosen the fast bowling group before taking them through a series of warm-ups.

  ‘We can’t stress enough how important it is for cricketers to warm up, especially for us fast bowlers,’ Emma said. ‘It’s a very basic thing, but it could mean the difference between you playing most games in a season to playing just a few.’

  ‘It’s one of the best protections against injury,’ Ben agreed.

  After about ten minutes of stretching and run-throughs, Billy and the others were allowed to select a ball and start measuring their run-ups.

  ‘Pick any ball you like,’ Ben said.

  Billy had never seen so many cricket balls: brand-new shiny red ones, half-new balls with a good shine on one side and a duller red on the other, and some dull on both sides – though, to Billy, even those ones still looked to be in pretty good condition.