Glenn Maxwell 2 Read online

  Another four.

  There was a round of applause from the crowd and Will heard his dad call out, ‘On ya, Willie!’

  Will gave a little wave, then took his place on the crease once more. Stay focused, he told himself. It’s just the first over.

  The next two balls were a much better line and length from Mitchell, and Will blocked them cautiously. On the fifth delivery, Mitchell dropped it short. Will punished it, dancing down the pitch and launching the ball back over Mitchell’s head.

  A silver-haired man, most likely one of the player’s grandfathers, made a great crowd catch and a cheer went up from the spectators around him. The man gave a little bow and tossed the ball back to a fielder.

  ‘Well done, son!’ hollered Will’s dad, clearly enjoying himself.

  Will was glowing inside. He’d made a great start – 14 off the first over – but he wanted to keep it going. If he could take a single off the final ball, he would retain the strike.

  Mitchell ran in and pitched the ball up at Will’s feet. Will guided the ball through a gap on the on side and trotted down to the bowler’s end for a comfortable single. He didn’t turn to look behind him till it was too late. Shavil was coming back for a second.

  ‘Noooo!’ called Will. It was just like Aaron Mooney in last season’s grand final all over again.

  Shavil skidded to a halt, almost slipping over, then tried to scamper back to the striker’s end.

  The throw from the outfield was a good one – low, quick and true. It was no surprise that it came from the arm of Brock Anderson. The wicketkeeper had the bails off before Shavil could get his bat to the ground to even think about sliding in.

  Will winced as he watched Shavil walk off the ground without facing a single ball.

  ‘Thanks,’ said Mitchell. ‘I guess the first wicket goes to you.’

  Will suddenly realised what he’d done. He’d been so concerned about retaining strike that he hadn’t even considered taking the two runs on offer. Now Shavil was out.

  As he watched Shavil slam his bat and gloves to the ground and take a spot at the end of the players’ bench, Will wondered what he could possibly say to Shavil to make it up to him.

  CATCHES WIN MATCHES

  ‘I’m really, really sorry,’ said Will.

  Shavil nodded, staring straight ahead at the oval. He wasn’t even watching the game, just staring.

  Will saw the muscles in Shavil’s face tighten as if he were gritting his teeth. ‘Really,’ Will added once more for good measure. ‘I should have come back for the second. I just …’ What could he say? That he just wanted to retain strike so he could continue showing off for Jack and the selectors and be the big hero?

  Shavil nodded again. ‘Forget about it,’ he said flatly.

  Will glanced at the scoreboard. ‘I think we may be in trouble here.’

  City A was two for 42, including the two extras from wide deliveries. Not so great after such a big first over. After Shavil was run out, Will just wasn’t able to score as freely. He couldn’t focus as well, either. His shots stopped finding the boundary. He even struggled to score singles. Finally, he went for a sweep shot off a wide medium-paced delivery and, instead of running away for four, the ball popped up off his glove and into the waiting hands of the keeper. Out for 22.

  As if to confirm Will’s prognosis of the current state of play, the City A captain, Mike Reynolds, who had made a handy 18, was clean-bowled by Mitchell.

  ‘Uh-oh,’ said Will. ‘We’re definitely in trouble.’

  ‘Big, big trouble,’ Will muttered under his breath. He watched another ball fly off the face of Brock Anderson’s bat and head for four. The crowd cheered as the umpire signalled another boundary. Brock raised his bat modestly in recognition. The boundary had taken him to 50 off 38 balls. City A had only managed to get to just 86 before capitulating in the seventeenth over. City B was now12 runs short of victory and they had only lost two wickets.

  No matter what they tried, City A’s bowlers couldn’t find an answer to Brock’s flawless technique. He never appeared to be troubled by any of the deliveries they served up to him – bouncers, off-cutters, leg cutters, inswingers, yorkers. He had an answer for any kind of pace attack, and for anything that was short, he quickly shuffled down the pitch and hammered it to the fence.

  When Mike brought on City A’s only spin bowler, Todd Green, to give the fast bowlers a rest, the results were even worse. For every delivery Todd bowled, the result was always the same – more amazing shots from Brock and more runs on the board for City B. It was as if Brock was some kind of cricket Jedi – and the force was strong in him. Add some pointy green ears and broken English and he could have been Yoda.

  From where Will stood on the boundary, he couldn’t see how they were going to get Brock out. Mike had placed Will on the boundary even though he’d specifically told Mike he liked to field in close, and everyone knew he didn’t have the strongest arm. Will wondered if Mike was punishing him for screwing up their innings with the run-out. Will did his best but he couldn’t help feeling that his legs just weren’t made for chasing down balls in the outfield. The only good news was that he hadn’t been tested with any catches yet.

  After two overs of being belted round the park with his wrist spin, Todd finally decided to try a straight delivery, and Brock went after it. But instead of going to the fence, the ball headed skyward.

  ‘Catch!’ Mike cried desperately.

  Will got himself under the ball, making a target with his hands. He tried to stay calm and keep his eyes on the little red sphere that was floating in the sky high above him. Don’t take your eyes off it, he told himself.

  It was plummeting now. All Will had to do was reach out and catch it. He had to catch it. They needed Brock’s wicket badly if they were to have any chance of making the scoreboard half-respectable. And Will needed it badly to redeem himself for running out Shavil. He couldn’t fail. Catches win matches.

  He kept walking backwards as the ball fell through the air, trying to make sure he was directly under it, leaving nothing to chance.

  I’ve got this, he told himself.

  And he did have it – right until the sun decided to peek out from behind a cloud. Will’s eyes lost the ball for a fraction of a second – a fraction of a fraction – but it was enough to make a difference. The ball hit the ground a metre in front of him.

  Nooooo! No, no, no, no!

  Will stared at the ball on the grass in disbelief. He was too stunned to move.

  The crowd groaned in one big collective sigh of disappointment.

  ‘Pick it up, Will!’ called his dad.

  Snapping back to reality, Will picked up the ball and threw it to the bowler’s end with all his might. But the damage was done.

  Will looked up and saw Todd kick at the dirt on the pitch. He saw Mike throw a hand over his face. He saw Brock shrug and smile at his good fortune. Then he saw Shavil.

  Shavil was staring straight at him. And Will just knew he was gritting his teeth.

  WITH FRENEMIES LIKE THESE

  ‘That’s ridiculous! I can’t believe you’d say that!’

  ‘Well, how do I know you didn’t?’

  ‘Because …’

  ‘Because why?’

  Will looked at Shavil’s face. He was no longer gritting his teeth. He was baring them like a wild dog. It had been two weeks since their match against City B and Will had a sneaking suspicion that Shavil hadn’t got over the run-out incident.

  The biggest clue was the way Shavil had stopped saying hello at training. Instead, he just shrugged his eyebrows at Will. It wasn’t a good eyebrow shrug, either. It was more of an eyebrow raise. The second clue was that, whenever Will tried to crack a joke to lighten the mood, Shavil would wait a moment for dead silence then give a single, loud ‘ha’. The final clue came a moment ago, when Will had bowled Shavil out during a casual practice in the nets. Shavil had responded by throwing his bat at Will’s head. Luckily, Will had duck
ed as the bat went sailing past his skull, bouncing off the lane netting and clattering to the floor.

  Will looked at the bat on the ground, then back at Shavil. ‘Is this about the run-out?’ he’d asked. ‘I already said I was sorry. What do you want me to do? It was a mistake.’

  That’s when Shavil had asked him the thing Will already knew he was thinking: ‘How do I know you didn’t do it on purpose?’

  Now, as Will looked at the unmistakable anger on Shavil’s face – anger that had been building up over the last two weeks – he gave the only answer he could think of. ‘I wouldn’t do that because we’re friends,’ he said. ‘Maybe I was being selfish by not taking the second run, but I’d never deliberately run you out.’

  Will picked up Shavil’s bat from the ground and offered it to him.

  ‘We still friends?’

  Shavil slowly nodded and took the bat. ‘Okay. Sorry for throwing my bat at you.’

  ‘That’s all right. It wasn’t a very good throw, anyway.’

  Shavil laughed and, for just a moment, things felt good between them. Then Brock showed up.

  ‘Hey, guys, everything okay here?’ asked Brock.

  ‘We’re fine,’ said Will. ‘Right, Shavil?’

  Shavil shrugged.

  ‘Oh,’ said Brock. ‘Because I thought it sounded like you guys were arguing about that run-out in the first game.’

  ‘That? No … Well, maybe a little bit,’ said Will. He didn’t know why but he didn’t want Brock poking his nose in their business. There was something about him Will just didn’t like. He was so … perfect.

  ‘Because it would be natural if there was some tension between you guys. Between all of us, really,’ said Brock.

  ‘Tension? Why would that be natural?’ asked Will.

  ‘Because we’re all openers and we can’t all be chosen for the state squad.’ Brock smiled. ‘But I don’t want that to get in the way of how we get along. It doesn’t matter who gets chosen, it’s all about what’s best for the team,’ he added sincerely. At least, he sounded sincere. ‘I mean, in the end it’s just a game, isn’t it? Being a good sport and doing what’s best for the team is what really matters.’

  Will got the impression that, in Brock’s mind, the best thing for the state team would be for him to lead the batting. And maybe Brock was right. But Will didn’t feel like being a good sport right now. In fact, he felt like grabbing Shavil’s bat and throwing it at Brock’s head. He didn’t, of course.

  ‘I guess you’re right,’ said Will, and Shavil nodded in agreement.

  ‘Good to hear. So no more arguing, okay? You’re better than that,’ said Brock.

  Will bristled at being lectured by another player.

  Brock raised his hand in the air. ‘High five?’

  Will looked at it, then slowly raised his own and slapped Brock’s palm. Shavil did the same. Is this guy for real?

  ‘All right, good talk,’ said Brock, pumping his fist before sauntering off to no doubt chat and high five the players in the next lane.

  ‘What was that about?’ said Will.

  ‘I know, right? What a nice guy,’ said Shavil. ‘And he’s such a good player.’

  Great, now Shavil’s a Brock groupie. Will couldn’t blame him; Brock seemed like an amazing guy. It was the ‘seemed’ part that bothered Will. Am I just jealous or do I have a right to be worried?

  Something he’d heard once, probably on one of those bad American soaps his mum loved to watch, suddenly came to mind: Keep your friends close and your enemies closer. But was Brock friend or frenemy? Will didn’t know but he was sure he was going to find out.

  THE BENCH OF AWKWARD

  ‘One blue slushie,’ said Will, handing the girl at the counter some money. He almost dropped the slushie on the floor when he turned to find Zoe standing in line behind him.

  ‘Hey, Willster!’

  Stay cool, Will told himself. ‘Hey, Zoe. How’s it … hanging?’ Not cool, dude. Not cool.

  ‘Fine. So, you come here often?’ Zoe purred.

  ‘Well, I wouldn’t say often. This is my third time, if you count the time with my parents after the opening of the centre.’ Ugh, don’t mention your parents!

  Zoe nodded, a smirk spreading across her face. ‘Actually, I was kind of joking.’

  ‘Oh. Right.’ Why am I so awkward around her now? I wasn’t at camp … Do I like her?

  ‘Can I help you?’ asked the girl at the counter.

  Zoe shrugged. ‘Guess I’ll see you around, Willster.’

  ‘I could wait for you if you like,’ said Will, trying to sound casual. ‘We could … catch up.’ Catch up? Why did I say that? I sound like Mum.

  ‘Okay. Cool,’ Zoe said with a smile.

  ‘Can I help you?’ the girl repeated loudly.

  Zoe rolled her eyes at Will, then stepped up to the counter. ‘Yeah, um, I’ll have the bananaberry slushie, please.’

  She turned back to Will and smiled for no reason and Will smiled back.

  ‘So, how are you going at the academy?’ asked Zoe. ‘Heard you guys had a bad loss to City B.’

  They were sitting on an orange bench, slurping on their slushies and suffering the occasional brain freeze.

  Will sighed. ‘Yeah, I really blew that one. I ran Shavil out in the first over.’

  ‘That was a dumb move, but you guys still made a decent score. It’s your bowling line-up that’s a bit weak, if you ask me,’ said Zoe.

  ‘They’re okay,’ said Will. Although, he had to admit they didn’t put up much resistance against Brock’s aggressive batting style.

  ‘Country’s got all the gun bowlers,’ said Zoe. ‘Joey Romeo, Kurt Mallia and of course your best friend, Killer McKinnon. You have to hand it to him – he’s quick.’

  ‘And a little crazy,’ Will added with a laugh.

  Zoe chuckled. ‘I wonder why country towns produce such good fast bowlers.’

  ‘Beats me. Maybe they put something in the water tanks.’

  ‘That would explain “Killer” then,’ joked Zoe. ‘At least you don’t have to train with him at the centre.’

  ‘He isn’t that bad when you get to know him,’ said Will.

  Zoe gave him a look. ‘Didn’t you two almost have a fight?’

  ‘Yeah, but at least I know where I stand with him. Not like this new guy at the academy. I mean, he seems friendly and he’s a great player, but for some reason I just don’t trust him, you know?’

  Zoe nodded and smiled.

  Will smiled back. It felt good to talk to Zoe, like he could tell her anything and she wouldn’t judge him for it. She might tease him about things but, underneath it all, Will sensed a connection between them. Sure, they both loved cricket but it went deeper than that. Like the way she was looking at him now – she really understood him. It was like she could almost read his mind.

  Zoe moved her head closer, tilting it slightly.

  Wait, is she going to …? Oh, man, I think she is. Will leaned in. He could see his reflection in her eyes. They were bright green and they were staring right at him. Now they were squinting at him. Squinting? Hang on, she’s not looking at me – she’s looking across the street!

  ‘Hey, there’s Brock!’ Zoe said excitedly. Before Will knew it, Zoe was waving and calling Brock over.

  ‘Oh, you know him?’ asked Will.

  ‘Well, yeah,’ said Zoe, scrunching up her face. ‘My uncle helped out his family when they moved from WA and he goes to my school now. Also, he’s kind of my boyfriend.’

  Will was sure he heard something snap inside his head, followed by the sound of his heart shattering into a million tiny pieces of embarrassment. I’m such an idiot!

  ‘Hi, Zo. Hi, Will,’ Brock said politely. He was sporting the usual wide, toothy grin. ‘You two know each other, huh?’

  Geez, even his teeth are perfect.

  Zoe beamed at him. ‘We met at the Academy Cricket Camp. Wanna join us?’

  ‘Okay, thanks,’ said Brock, sq
ueezing next to Zoe on the bench, forcing her to shuffle along until Will almost fell off the end. ‘So …’

  ‘So …’ Zoe giggled.

  Will sat there looking as awkward and miserable as he felt. It was the longest minute of his life. Finally, he was saved.

  ‘That’s my tram!’ he burst out, avoiding all eye contact. ‘Gotta go, see ya later!’ And without another word or a backward glance, he was off the plastic bench of extreme awkwardness and running up the street towards the tram stop.

  As the tram pulled away, Will tried his hardest not to look out the window as it passed by the takeaway shop but he couldn’t help himself. Zoe and Brock were still there chatting happily. Zoe was staring into Brock’s eyes and she definitely wasn’t squinting. Then Brock and Zoe and the plastic bench were gone.

  ROAD TRIP

  ‘Have you got everything?’

  ‘Yep.’

  ‘Are you sure?’

  ‘I’m sure, Mum. You made me check twice before we left home,’ said Will, shivering and blowing steam despite the four layers of clothing he was wearing.

  It was seven o’clock on a freezing Saturday morning and City A were heading to Shepparton for their second squad game. This time they were playing against Country B at the academy’s regional training centre.

  ‘Okay, well, good luck.’ Will’s mum smiled and rubbed his face. ‘What is that? Toothpaste?’

  ‘Mum!’ Will protested.

  ‘We can’t have you going out in public with toothpaste on your chin, can we?’ said his mum. ‘All right, give us a kiss.’

  Will glanced around to see if anyone was looking, then gave his mum a peck on the cheek. He was relieved to see Shavil’s parents making a fuss over him as well.

  ‘Stay safe,’ said his mum.

  Will hoisted his kitbag to his shoulder. ‘Mum, relax, it’s just a day trip.’ He gave a final wave as he boarded the coach. He was headed down the aisle when a familiar irksome voice filled his ears. It was Brock and his cheery face was smiling as incessantly as ever. Will had almost forgotten that City B would also be travelling on the coach.