by David Warner
When at last it was lunchtime, they were all itching to get to detention. On their way to C playground, they spotted the school choir practising.
Mo Clouter could be seen but not heard, standing in the back row glaring.
Sunil give him a friendly wave.
Mo’s face turned purple.
Ms Maro, who was sitting with a group of kids on mats working with scissors and glue, called the cricketers over. ‘Tomorrow morning we make the costumes, guys!’ she cried, as though they’d just won a prize in a lucky dip. ‘So come here as soon as you get to school. Then we’ve got the dress rehearsal at lunchtime.’ Her brown eyes widened. ‘I can’t wait to see you all dressed up!’
‘Ha ha!’ Mo’s face was wearing that awful pufferfish grin again.
Ms Maro nodded encouragingly at Mo.
‘Can’t you get us out of wearing ears and tails?’ Davey hissed to Sunil once they were out of earshot. It was the only thing taking the shine off proceedings.
‘I’m working on it. Maybe . . .’
Davey rounded the toilet block and spotted Max sitting patiently under a tree, waiting for the game to start.
‘Oh-oh. Where’s Smudge?’ Davey said.
‘With the lawn bowls team in B playground,’ Kevin said. ‘He’ll be busy all lunchtime.’
‘Good. Let’s get started.’
When it was Davey’s turn to bat, Max took up his position at silly mid-off and barked impatiently.
Kevin bowled a topspinner. Max stood ready to catch him again, but Davey switched sides and hit the ball to the boundary.
‘Tricked you, brainless bow-wow!’
Max gave him the evil eye and trotted over to silly mid-on. He barked again.
Davey called out to Kevin. ‘Give me another one like that!’
Kevin mixed it up, bowling a flipper.
Davey switched and slammed it high over Max’s head.
‘Max, you might as well go home,’ Davey said. ‘You’re outclassed.’
Max sat on his haunches. I’m not going anywhere, he seemed to say. But when the bell rang, he made a dash for the gate and freedom.
Davey and his friends would have preferred to spend their second-last detention playing cricket, but as it turned out, making koala and kangaroo ears and tails wasn’t as tedious as they’d expected.
The boys had to admit that Ms Maro’s enthusiasm was contagious. She was so excited by all the fun to be had that soon they were laughing and joking as they glued pieces of fake fur onto cardboard and sewed long strips to elastic. It was certainly better than writing lines or picking up papers with Mr Mudge.
But dressing up in ears and tails was another matter, and when it was time for lunchtime detention on Friday they dawdled to A playground, where the dress rehearsal was to take place.
When they arrived, the school choir, now dressed as echidnas, were setting up. Mo looked like he’d eaten a bad prawn as he clambered into the back row.
Sunil and Davey gave him a friendly wave.
While the choir sang, the cricket team put on their costumes.
‘You look like a meerkat,’ Davey said to Sunil.
‘And you look like an orangutan,’ Sunil replied.
When the singing was over, Ms Maro clapped loudly. ‘Beautiful!’ she cried.
Next up were the bandicoot-eared gymnasts, who leapt and dived over the vaulting horse while the lawn bowls team, wearing platypus tails, set up. Directing proceedings were Mr Mudge and Mrs Trundle, but Davey was disappointed to see that neither teacher wore a tail.
The cricket team set up their wickets while the lawn bowlers ran through their routine. To Davey, lawn bowls seemed slow, even dull, but Mr Mudge and Mrs Trundle appeared to adore it, cheering and clapping and ooing and ahing. Davey couldn’t understand it.
‘Okay, guys, hit it!’ Ms Maro shouted when at last it was the cricket team’s turn.
Five minutes later, the cricket display was over and Ms Maro was brimming with admiration. ‘You’ll be playing for Australia one day!’ she exclaimed, as everyone gathered around.
Sunil smiled so his dimple showed. ‘Thanks, Ms Maro. But we’d play much better without the tails and ears. I’m worried we’ll trip over or something.’
Davey, who was standing at Sunil’s side, nodded. ‘It could be dangerous, Miss,’ he said.
‘Yeah, it could be,’ someone said in his ear.
Davey turned. Mo Clouter was standing right behind them. He had a look of concern on his face – for Ms Maro’s benefit, Davey presumed.
Ms Maro was thoughtful for a moment. ‘Mmm. We better trim a few centimetres off those tails, then.’ She put her hand into her pocket and pulled out a hairpin. ‘And we’ll use these to make sure your headbands don’t slip.’
As one, the cricket team sucked in a breath.
‘Davey Warner, there’s a packet of hairpins in my desk drawer. Run and get them while we start on the tails.’
Ms Maro looked so pleased with her solution to the problem that Davey didn’t have the heart to argue. So he set off in the direction of the teacher’s room. But after just one step he toppled like a skittle and landed heavily on the grass with Sunil on top of him.
Davey felt an excruciating pain in his right ankle. ‘Owww! What did you do, Deep? Get off!’ He gave his friend a push.
‘I didn’t do anything!’ Sunil tried to scramble to his feet, but fell over again.
Davey glanced down. His kangaroo tail was tied in a neat bow with Sunil’s.
Ms Maro had a quizzical look on her face. ‘Are you boys all right?’ she said.
Sunil sat up and untied the tails. Then he got to his feet and tried to pull Davey up.
‘Owwww!’ Davey yelled again. When he did manage to get back on his feet, he found he could only stand on his left leg. And where his right ankle had once been there was a red lump the size of a cricket ball bulging out of his grey sock.
‘PPPppfffffffff!’ Mo Clouter could no longer contain his amusement.
CHAPTER 11
MATCH UNFIT
Saturday dawned clear, sunny and still – perfect weather for the big match between the Sandhill Sluggers and the Crabby Creek Crickets. Davey Warner’s eyes snapped open and locked with Ricky Ponting’s. Good luck, mate, Ricky seemed to say. You can do it.
Out in the kitchen, Davey’s dad had rustled up scrambled eggs and toast with fresh orange juice. While Davey gobbled up his breakfast, his mum packed Kaboom, his helmet, his lucky waterbottle and some green zinc cream in a backpack and left it by the door.
‘Ready?’ she asked, as Davey shovelled the last forkful of egg into his mouth.
Davey nodded.
‘Here you go, then.’ She handed him his crutches.
Davey stood slowly and balanced on his right foot. Once he had a crutch under each arm, he made his way out to the car. Even though the match was on at Flatter Park, a few minutes’ walk away, Davey would need a ride.
Sunil was waiting by the car door. ‘Thought I might as well get a lift,’ he said. ‘Dad’s bringing Lata down later.’ He looked Davey up and down. ‘You sure you need crutches? Maybe that doctor’s wrong.’
‘Mum’s insisting.’ Davey tried putting weight on his right foot. ‘Owww! I can still bat, but you’ll have to run for me.’
Sunil helped him into the car. ‘Reckon you can still do your secret weapon?’ He looked worried.
‘Dunno,’ Davey said, as Sunil loaded the crutches in through the car door. ‘I need to be able to move my feet fast for that.’
When Benny saw Davey shambling across Flatter Park, he grimaced. ‘Gosh, mate, that looks nasty. Guess you’ll have to sit this match out, eh?’
Davey shook his head. ‘Nup, I’m fine to bat. Just need Sunil to run for me.’
‘You sure?’ Benny looked from Davey to Sunil, clearly pessimistic.
‘Fine by me,’ Sunil said. ‘Warner’s going to be hitting all sixes and fours, so I won’t have much to do.’ He slapped Davey on the back so har
d he almost fell off his crutches.
Benny narrowed his eyes. ‘Well, no funny stuff, Davey.’
‘Yes, boss.’
‘I’m thinking you won’t be fielding, though, eh?’
Davey shook his head.
‘Well, we’ve got no twelfth man today, so we’ll be one down out there.’ Benny sighed. ‘Looks like those Crickets’ll be singing.’
‘Don’t worry, Warner,’ Sunil said when Benny had left, off to grab a sandwich from his shop across the road. ‘You’ve got your secret weapon, and I’ve got mine. Between us, we can squash these Crickets.’
Davey frowned. ‘Deep, don’t you put us in it.’
Sunil smiled. ‘Just something to keep it interesting.’ He looked towards the road. ‘Ah, here she is now.’
‘Who?’
‘Lata. She’s doing a little job for me.’
‘Lata? She’s four!’
‘Exactly. No one will suspect her.’
Davey shook his head. Sometimes it was better not to know. Sunil was clever, that’s for sure, but his schemes didn’t always pan out. Davey was about to say so when the umpire called the Sluggers’ captain away for the toss of the coin.
The Crickets won the toss and elected to bat, so the Sluggers made their way out onto the field. Only Davey stayed behind, sitting by himself under a tree in a fold-up chair with his crutches beside him, stripes of green zinc cream on his nose.
The match started slowly. George was bowling, but the Crickets weren’t taking any chances, hitting ones and twos and offering up no catches.
Davey watched, his fingers and toes crossed that a batter would get bored and do something risky. He glanced over at Lata. She was a short distance away, watching the game with Sunil’s dad and all the other Sluggers’ supporters. When she saw Davey look over, she gave him a big wave.
‘Hi!’ Davey called. He’d need to keep an eye on her, he decided.
Then he noticed that one of the Crickets’ supporters, who were sitting under trees further off, was waving in his direction, shouting. ‘Hey, Shorty!’ It was Mo with that pufferfish grin.
What’s he doing here? Davey wondered. Mo hated cricket.
Out on the field, the Crickets were warming up and off to a solid start.
Davey glanced over at Lata again. Now she was near the Crickets’ camp, throwing a stick for Max. She saw Davey look over and waved again. She held up the packet of what looked like TizzyFizz sherbet. ‘Yum!’
Davey gave her the thumbs up.
‘Out!’
Sunil had clean-bowled one of the Crickets’ opening batters for thirteen runs. Davey and the Sluggers’ supporters clapped. Lata cheered.
‘Boo!’ It was Mo.
The Crickets’ number-three batter made his way out to the pitch. Davey glanced over at Lata. Now she’d found a tennis ball and was throwing it to Max, who was catching it on the full. It looked harmless enough.
Sunil quickly took another wicket. Two overs later he trapped the Crickets’ number four LBW with an inswinger.
Suddenly there was a bark. Max was chasing Lata’s tennis ball across the field. Then he spotted some seagulls and tore off after them. The birds rose as one. Max began dashing around in circles, snapping at the air.
‘Max! Get back here!’ Davey shouted, grabbing his crutches and scrambling to his feet.
Max ignored him.
Davey didn’t go after him – he knew it would be pointless trying to round up the dog on crutches.
The umpire called a halt to proceedings while supporters from both sides tried to herd the dog back to the boundary. But Max was having none of it, and it took them ten minutes to catch him and tether him to the fence so the match could continue.
Davey sat down again. Was that Deep’s secret weapon? he wondered. If it was, it didn’t work. In fact, the disturbance seemed to focus the Crickets. As if they suddenly had Sunil’s number, they began hitting him around the park. Several fours and a couple of sixes later, they’d lost no more wickets and were racking up runs fast.
Even when George took over the bowling, the Crickets kept up the pressure. By morning tea and the end of the innings, they’d lost no more wickets and had scored ninety-two runs. It was a strong effort and Davey knew it’d be hard to beat.
The Sluggers looked red-faced and disappointed as they came off the field.
Back from the shop, Benny was handing out the water bottles. ‘Not a bad effort, guys,’ he said, ‘but there’s no doubt those Crickets are on top.’ He offered around the cut-up oranges. ‘You’ve got an uphill battle. With Davey here on crutches, I’d say it’s looking almost impossible.’
Sunil let out a groan.
‘I know how you feel, mate,’ Benny said.
Sunil growled and shook his head.
Davey had never seen his friend so miserable after an innings.
‘Yeah, it’s terrible,’ Benny moaned, nodding.
‘Lata! What have you done?’ Sunil threw his piece of orange in the dirt and took off after his little sister.
Thinking it was a game, Lata ran away, giggling. Her dad watched, bemused.
Davey glanced at his teammates. Every single Slugger had a look of disgust on their face.
‘Eeewww!’ they yelled.
Now George threw his piece of orange in the dirt. ‘These oranges are revolting!’
CHAPTER 12
BATTING FROM BEHIND
The Sluggers’ oranges tasted so disgusting they had to be thrown in the bin.
‘Any chance you could bring some over from the shop?’ Davey’s mum asked Benny.
Benny shook his head. ‘None there. Barb threw them out yesterday. They’d gone all green and powdery.’
In the end, the Crickets gave the Sluggers their leftovers, but there wasn’t enough to go round and most Sluggers went without.
Around the other side of the field, Sunil was speaking sternly to his little sister. No one could hear what he was saying, but when he’d finished, Lata marched back to her father with a furious frown on her face. Sunil looked just as irate as he returned to the sideline to pad up.
‘What was all that about?’ Davey asked his friend as they pulled on their helmets.
‘Tell you later,’ Sunil mumbled. ‘Suffice to say my secret weapon’s no longer operational. We’re counting on yours now, Warner.’
Davey grimaced inside his helmet. Now he had a sprained ankle, he doubted whether he’d be able to pull off his switch hit. It took some fancy footwork, but he could barely stand on two feet, let alone make them dance.
When the batters and the runner were ready, they made their way out to the wicket, Sunil and George half-carrying Davey as he hopped across the grass. ‘Owww!’ he yelped more than once.
In contrast to the hot, tired and hungry Sluggers, the Crickets looked fresh-faced as they took their positions. Calum, their captain, set a tight attacking field, so much so the umpire had to order some of his players to take a step back from the pitch.
Davey and Sunil stood at the bowler’s end and waited. George took his position at the crease.
The Sluggers got off to a slow start, thanks to a strong opening spell from one of the Crickets’ best bowlers. Her first ball was wide, but from then on her line was good and the length varied enough to keep George on his toes.
George let the first few go through. It wasn’t until the last ball of the over that he pulled off a glance past fine leg. He and Sunil ran for three.
During the next two overs, George played well, taking his time but making the most of any opportunities. Then, after George made a graceful sweep to square leg, Davey found himself at the crease.
Davey’s plan was to take his time and try to play as much as possible off his good back foot. He left as many balls as he played, blocking singles when the ball was full, before playing a pull and hook through the leg side. He’d decided to use his switch hit only as a last resort because the footwork was so tricky, especially with a cricket ball for an ankle.
But the Crickets were on to him, and soon the bowler was sending down full-length balls to try to tempt Davey onto his injured front foot. Davey resisted the bait, sticking with his defensive shots and the odd back-foot drive when he could. But his aching ankle told him that his secret weapon, which depended on turning on his front foot, was probably a no-go.
In the fifteenth over, the Sluggers suffered a hammer blow when George tried a cut shot and was caught behind for thirty-one. Davey watched as his friend trudged back to the bench. The Sluggers were now on fifty-two. They’d need to pick up their run rate to get close to the Crickets.
Number three in the Sluggers’ order was Ivy. As soon as she came to the crease, she was looking good. Davey watched as she hit a four off her second ball, before driving to deep extra cover for three more.
As Davey waited for the next ball, he looked across at Sunil.
‘You okay?’ his friend asked.
‘Yeah, but I can’t move my right foot so well.’
The bowler delivered an inswinger. Davey drove it to long-on. Sunil and Ivy ran, and ran again. The long-on fielder fumbled the ball, so they tried for another run. Suddenly the ball was in the hands of the bowler, who threw it at the wicket. As Sunil dived into the crease, the bails flew.
The Crickets leapt into the air. ‘Out!’
Sunil clambered to his feet but stood his ground. Davey looked at the umpire, his heart in his mouth.
The umpire didn’t move.
‘That was out!’ someone yelled from the sideline. It was Mo. He was still standing with the Crickets’ supporters, waving his arms like an unhinged octopus.
The umpire still didn’t move. ‘Not out,’ he said finally.
The Crickets shook their heads and went back to their positions. But even from the other end, Davey could see that his friend had made it in time.
As Sunil took up his position as runner at the bowler’s end, he turned and gave Mo a friendly wave.
‘Go the Crickets!’ Mo hollered. Davey could see that even the Crickets’ supporters were looking sideways at the bellowing turnip.