Belly Flop Read Free Page B

stressed.
    Dad’s put his elbow in his beer three times.
    A couple of secs ago a thought hit me.
    Perhaps they’re worried that when the kids arrive, they might all try to bash me up.
    â€˜It’s OK,’ I said, ‘if things get out of hand I can give Doug a hoi.’
    Mum and Dad looked at each other and pretended they hadn’t heard.
    â€˜I probably won’t have to,’ I said, ‘but he’s around if I need him.’
    Gran coughed a Cheezel across the room.
    Mum and Dad looked at each other again and I could tell from their pained expressions they’d heard.
    That’s when I remembered.
    Don’t be offended, Doug, but Mum and Dad don’t believe in you.
    It’s one of their few real faults.
    If they can’t see a person, and offer them a cup of tea or something cold, they don’t believe in them.
    Try not to hold it against them, Doug.
    It’s seventeen minutes to four.
    If a spaceship’s landed in Memorial Park and everyone’s down there, you’d let me know, eh Doug?
    It’s OK, Doug, I’m not crying.
    My eyes are just a bit drippy, that’s all.
    Us humans get drippy eyes sometimes if we’re tired or we’ve been watching too much telly or we get toothpaste in them.
    Or we have a birthday party and nobody comes.
    I still can’t believe it.
    I wasn’t expecting every kid in town to trample the door down, but I thought some’d turn up even if it was just to see Gran cough bits of corn chip out of her nose.
    Not a single one.
    Not even Andy Howard, who’d normally walk naked through bull ants for a free feed.
    Poor old Mum and Dad, it was good of them to try and cheer me up, even if they aren’t very good at it.
    Just now, when Mum said ‘Never mind, love, they’ve probably got the wrong day,’ and Dad stared at the Cheezel on top of the TV and said ‘They’ll probably turn up next Sunday’, I had to bite my tongue really hard.
    I wanted to yell something really angry.
    Something about how some parents’ jobs make it really hard for a kid to have a birthday party.
    I still do, but Gran’s coughing and they probably won’t hear me.
    Anyway, it wouldn’t be fair.
    Dad can’t help . . .
    What was that?
    Doug, quick.
    The window just exploded.
    There’s glass everywhere.
    What’s happening?
    Is someone shooting at us?
    Are there farmers out there with guns?
    Doug.
    Help.
    HELP.

 
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    It’s OK Doug, it was just a brick.
    Don’t get me wrong.
    That’s bad enough.
    We’ve never had a brick before and we’re all shaking like a truckie’s gut.
    But at least it’s not as bad as a bullet.
    I just wish I’d seen it coming, then I could have got you to stop it.
    But I didn’t see it till it had smashed through the window.
    The noise made us freeze and we just sat there like stunned fish fillets watching the brick land in the Cheezels and bits of glass bounce off the walls and tinkle across the floor.
    Then everyone moved.
    Mum dived protectively across Gran.
    It was good of her, but a bit of a waste of time cause she’s about half the size of Gran and her skin is still quite soft except for her elbows and Gran’s is like leather-grain vinyl.
    Still, you can’t blame her for trying.
    She’s got diving in her blood from Grandad.
    Poor old Dad hasn’t.
    When he tried to throw himself protectively on top of me he got the angle wrong and bounced off the rocker recliner and landed on the food table.
    That’s when I unfroze and yelled for you, Doug.
    I know guardian angels are really only meant to protect kids, so it was good of you to make sure Dad’s head missed the cutlery and landed on something soft.
    All those swear words he came out with while we were getting the taco dip out of his eyes weren’t about you, I promise.
    They were about the person who chucked the brick.
    We’re out in