Belly Flop Read Free

chased three times round town by a pair of psychopaths.
    Mum and Dad have got enough stress as it is.
    And they’re about to have some more.
    My birthday party starts in twenty minutes and there’s something about it I haven’t told them yet.
    Something very important.
    I haven’t been game to tell them in case they chucked a fit.
    But now you’re back, Doug, it’ll be fine.
    What I’ve got to tell them is that my birthday party’s not just a birthday party.
    It’s the event that’s gunna make everything in our lives OK again.
    When I got inside, Gran was having a go at Dad as usual.
    Three more families heaved off their land by that bank of yours,’ she was saying. ‘Don’t take it personally, but I reckon you’re lower than the flap of skin on a sheep’s rear end.’
    Dad was ignoring her as usual and pretending to look for something in his briefcase.
    â€˜Mum,’ said Mum wearily to Gran, ‘do us all a favour and change the subject, eh?’
    Gran got herself a beer.
    Mum plonked a bowl of taco dip down with the other party food and then saw me.
    â€˜Mitch,’ she said, ‘we were wondering where you were. Did you get the extra corn chips?’
    I tried desperately to think of an answer that wasn’t a lie.
    â€˜Couldn’t,’ I said. ‘Sorry.’
    Mum ran a worried eye over the food table.
    â€˜Oh well,’ she said, ‘we should have enough.’
    I took a deep breath.
    I don’t know if you were ever a kid, Doug, but if you were you’ll know how hard it can be telling your parents stuff that might hinder their breathing.
    â€˜Mum,’ I said, I’ve invited some extra kids to the party.’
    Mum frowned.
    â€˜I thought we agreed,’ she said. ‘Five or six and no horses in the house.’
    â€˜Too many and it’ll put a strain on the furniture,’ said Dad, ‘and the dunny.’
    I took another deep breath.
    I’ve invited a few more than five or six,’ I said.
    â€˜How many?’ said Gran through a mouthful of peanuts.
    â€˜Seventy-three,’ I said.
    Mum dropped a plate of chocolate crackles.
    Dad went so stressed he looked like a city person.
    Gran had a coughing fit and sprayed peanuts across the room.
    â€˜I did it for all of us,’ I said, banging Gran on the back. ‘So we can show them our human side.’
    Mum and Dad stared at me.
    â€˜That’s why I asked you to rehearse your card tricks, Gran,’ I went on, ‘and you to learn some good jokes, Mum, and you to practise juggling ping-pong balls with your mouth, Dad. When all the kids see how much fun we are at parties, they’ll tell their parents and everyone’ll stop hating us so much.’
    Dad jumped out of his chair so fast you’d never guess he’s a bit overweight.
    â€˜Mitch,’ he said, grabbing me and knocking the tomato sauce bottle over, ‘stop that talk. The people in this town don’t hate us. They just get crook with me because of my job. They certainly don’t hate you. You’re a good kid and it’s just your bad luck to have me as a dad.’
    I couldn’t speak, partly because what he’d just said had made my throat go funny and partly because he was gripping my shoulders so hard.
    If I hadn’t already known him I’d have been amazed to discover he was a Bank Liaison Officer and not a professional arm wrestler.
    There was another pause while Gran wiped tomato sauce off the jelly and Mum gave Dad a worried squeeze.
    Then I told Dad he was wrong about the bad luck and that he was the only dad I’d ever want, even if we lived in a huge city where there were millions of other dads.
    I put my arms round him as far as I could and gave him a hug.
    He is wrong, but.
    Not just about me, about all of us.
    We’re the most hated family in the district.
    Dad knows it.
    That’s why a tear ran down his face and