Monday afternoon

‘Mr Price, my bat’s gone,’ Tommy said, trying to keep the panic out of his voice. He knew that Mr Price had loads of other things on his mind, but he needed to tell someone.

‘Tommy,’ Mr Price said, his face creased with concern. He knew about Tommy’s bat, just like everyone else at Mount Lofty. He’d watched Dan Christian swat that ball almost out of the school grounds. ‘Mate, retrace your steps. Check the storeroom. Someone might have put it in there and check with the other kids too.’ He sighed, placing a hand on Tommy’s shoulder. ‘I had you down to bat first, but I’ll change the order, okay?’

‘Thanks, Mr Price,’ Tommy said, racing off to the gym storeroom. It was locked. By the time he’d found a teacher with a key, he’d wasted a precious five minutes. A brief search confirmed what he already knew – his bat wasn’t in there.

Tommy ran out onto the oval. The trials had started. Several of the competitors were at the crease and the others were spread out around the field. Kids sat or stood in groups, munching on lunch and waiting for the action to begin. Everyone seemed so calm and relaxed, unlike Tommy, whose heart was racing at a thousand beats a minute.

‘Tommy?’ a voice called.

‘Hey Lazarus,’ Tommy answered, half turning to look at his friend.

‘I thought you’d be opening.’

‘I’ve lost my bat,’ Tommy said.

‘You’ve what?’ Lazarus gasped. ‘Are you sure? That’s impossible.’

‘You’re right, Laz,’ Tommy snapped, his eyes wide. ‘I haven’t lost my bat.’

‘Hang on, you haven’t?’

‘Lazarus, it’s been stolen.’

‘Stolen? When? How? By who?’ The boys glanced at each other.

‘RALPH,’ they said simultaneously.

But how? He had been with Ralph in the gym the whole time, he couldn’t have stolen the bat without everyone seeing him, Tommy thought to himself. Then Tommy remembered, Ralph had been on his phone just before the fire alarm went off.

‘That siren.’ Tommy gasped. ‘It was a fake. Ralph planned it!’

‘The fire alarm do you mean? It was a shambles. Rumour is that Mrs Lehmann will be running a proper drill tomorrow morning.’

‘Tommy, we’re up next,’ Jake Carlisle panted, coming to a stop next to them. Jake was a friendly boy in the same year level as Tommy. He was always smiling, but for once his freckled face was looking very serious.

‘But I don’t have my bat.’ Tommy groaned, closing his eyes and trying to calm his nerves. This was a total disaster.

‘Tommy, you’re good enough with any old bat,’ Lazarus said softly. ‘Trust me.’

‘No, you don’t get it, Laz. It’s my lucky bat, it’s magic. I mean, not real magic, but, you know. It’s carved from special wood by my grandpa. It’s –’

‘C’mon, Tommy,’ Jake pleaded.

‘Go!’ Lazarus commanded.

Had one of the other kids picked it up? Tommy wondered. Clinging to this new, but faint hope, Tommy ran over to the mound of cricket bags by the side of the oval.

‘Can you help me?’ he panted to Jake, rummaging through the messy pile of bags and cricket gear. Nothing.

‘Maybe someone’s using it now?’ Jake suggested. Both boys gazed out onto the oval. But there was no way any of Tommy’s classmates would be using his bat. Tommy was big and strong for his age, the other kids would have barely been able to lift it, let alone score a run with it.

‘Okay, I can do this,’ Tommy mumbled to himself, removing his pads, gloves and protector from his cricket bag. Trying to put the missing bat out of his mind, Tommy started putting on his gear.

‘No luck?’ Mr Price asked, eyeing the bat Tommy was using.

Tommy shook his head. He’d grabbed the only spare bat lying around, the words ‘Mount Lofty’ scrawled roughly in black texta near the handle.

‘Okay, Jake and Tommy,’ Mr Price called from his umpiring position at the bowler’s end. ‘You’ve got four overs to impress myself and Cameron. Just play your natural game. Fielders, I want everyone to move clockwise one position.’

From the non-striker’s end, Tommy noticed their positions. Two slips, a gully, point, cover, mid-off, mid-on, mid-wicket, square leg just behind the umpire, a fine leg and third man, the only two fielders close to the boundary. Ralph and his batting partner were putting on their pads.

Two Under 16 bowlers stood waiting behind Mr Price. One would be bowling spin, the other pace.

‘Play,’ Mr Price instructed.

‘Yes,’ Tommy called, as Jake nudged the first ball streakily between second slip and gully. It was an easy single.

The bat felt like a twig in Tommy’s huge, strong hands. It made a light, almost hollow sound as he tapped it against the crease. He took a last glance around the field and then further to the boundary line. He saw his parents standing with Ali and Lazarus in the crowd.

‘Just do what you do best,’ Tommy whispered to himself as the bowler strode to the wicket. The first ball was slightly over-pitched, just right for a drive. Tommy planted his big foot down the pitch to meet the ball. He swung through with all the timing and power he could muster. But as soon as he heard the sound of ball hitting bat, Tommy realised he’d mistimed the shot badly. The ball trickled slowly to mid-off. His hands stinging, Tommy glared at the bat in his gloves.

‘C’mon, Tommy,’ Ali shouted from the boundary line.

‘Head up, son,’ his dad called.

Tommy glanced over to them. Then he saw Ralph, pads on, his arms folded, staring out at the wicket. And behind him, sitting alone on the grass, with her knees to her chin, was Molly. Tommy assumed she was just moody, like she was most days. But then he realised she wasn’t moody at all, she was crying.

One of the close-in fielders started clapping and Tommy tore his attention away from Molly and back to the job at hand. He gripped the bat tightly. He might as well have been batting with a wooden spoon. Tommy knew there was something wrong with the piece of wood in his hands.

One more ball and that’s it, he thought, tapping his bat angrily. The delivery was faster, shorter pitched, aimed at Tommy’s stomach. He was inside with time to spare, swivelling on one foot, bat turned to keep the shot down. CRACK. The force of the delivery knocked the bat out of Tommy’s hand as it connected with the ball. His full-blooded pull shot had caused the ball to bobble and limp about three or four metres onto the onside.

‘The kid’s batting with a piece of bark,’ Cameron called to Mr Price, leaving his position at square leg and heading towards Tommy.

Cameron picked up the bat and spun it in the air.

‘This is no Kookaburra,’ he scoffed, eyeing the sticker warily. He peeled its edge and the green label came away easily. ‘Throw me that ball,’ he called to the spin bowler. He tapped the ball a few times with the bat then swung back and went to hit it out into the covers. The ball carried a few metres and came to a stop moments later.

‘So you’ve lost your bat and you come out with this?’ Mr Price asked.

‘It was all there was in the kit, Mr Price. Honest,’ Tommy said.

‘Cameron, I’m really sorry about this,’ Mr Price said, obviously embarrassed with what was happening.

‘Pity,’ Cameron said, nodding at Tommy. ‘He’s got great footwork. Could see that straight away. Can we give him a proper bat?’

‘I wish,’ Tommy muttered.

‘Ralph! Here. Now!’ Mr Price bellowed across the oval. ‘With your bat.’

Ralph’s head jerked about, looking in every direction but Mr Price’s. The very last thing he wanted was to lend his precious bat to Tommy. ‘Me?’ Ralph mouthed, feigning surprise.

‘How many Ralphs you reckon there are?’ Jake said, joining Tommy in the middle of the pitch.

‘One, and that’s one too many,’ Tommy answered, glaring at Ralph.

‘We need to borrow your bat, Ralph,’ Mr Price said.

‘Why my bat?’

‘Because you’re next in and that makes sense to me.’ Both Mr Price and Cameron were looking unimpressed. It occurred to Tommy that perhaps Mr Price did suspect Ralph of being involved in the mysterious disappearance of the bat. Maybe this was his way of putting Ralph on the spot.

Reluctantly, Ralph held his bat out. ‘Jake can borrow it; I’m not lending it to him.’

‘That suits me,’ Jake said, dropping his bat and taking Ralph’s sticker-laden five hundred dollar Gunn & Moore Paragon DXM 606 Academy bat.

Tommy shrugged. ‘Whatever,’ he said, bending to pick up Jake’s bat.

It took a while, but as he started to play his strokes, Tommy was able to put the drama of the last half hour out of his mind. Finally – he was doing what he loved most; batting and scoring runs. And for Tommy it didn’t matter who was doing the bowling.

Even though Tommy was enjoying himself, he couldn’t shake the nagging feeling that he would be playing a million times better if he had his own bat. Yes, he was scoring runs, but it didn’t feel right. He just hoped that it looked impressive enough for Cameron and Mr Price.

With an over left of their allotted four, Cameron called for a girl named Neve to come on. She was small and wiry and bowled leg spin. Tommy could hear the ball fizz as it spun wickedly through the air towards him. Using his feet, he danced out to the pitch of the ball and smacked it past mid-on to the boundary. Her next delivery came through a bit quicker and Tommy had to adjust, playing a delicate late cut for a couple more runs.

‘Six to win, young man,’ Cameron called from square leg. ‘Set your field, Neve.’

‘Any restrictions?’ she asked.

Cameron grinned. ‘Nope.’

Tommy waited patiently as Neve directed all the fielders to the boundary line. Even the wicketkeeper left his position and trotted out to the mid-wicket area.

Tommy felt his pulse quicken as Neve began her brief walk to the bowling crease. He wouldn’t anticipate anything; just rely on his sharp reflexes and quick feet.

The delivery was low and flat, speared down the leg side. With lightning speed Tommy jumped back near his stumps, then whipped his bat around, hitting the ball with a mighty thwack.

Tommy turned to watch the ball’s flight. It cleared the boundary by a good ten metres.

‘Batters, swap over,’ Mr Price called.

Tommy grinned to Jake as they passed mid-pitch. ‘Would have been a lost ball if I’d had my bat.’

Jake was clean-bowled by Neve’s next delivery but managed to keep out the last two.

‘Good job, boys,’ Mr Price said to Tommy and Jake. ‘Get your pads off and come back into the field.’

Tommy had done all he could. Now it was down to what the others could show with the bat, especially Ralph, and whether he could do something awesome in either bowling or fielding.