Friday
Last day of school. I’ve got a plan.
The most extraordinary thing about me is that I’m not extraordinary in any way. I can’t kick a ball. I can’t heelflip a skateboard. I can’t say the alphabet backwards.
There’s a kid in my class who’s been invited to sing at the Opera House. That’ll never happen to me.
Y’know how I know? Because I got kicked out of the school choir in the middle of the end-of-year concert. I was belting out the national anthem when Ms Wilson stopped the choir and kicked me offstage. Right in the middle of the chorus. And it was in front of six hundred parents. Two of them were mine. Mum said she had never been so embarrassed.
I can’t do anything well. I guess that does make me extraordinary in a way. But not really in a way you’d want. Extraordinarily lame. So I’m going to do something to change all that. I’ve got a plan that will make me stand out from the pack.
By the end of these summer holidays I will be the rock skimming champion of the world. Skimming is throwing a rock so it skips across the surface of the water.
My name is Digger Field. Well, not really. My name is David Field, but for some reason I’ve always been Digger.
My Mum is Polish and my Dad is a dag. We live a couple of streets away from the Clarry River in the most boring suburb in the world. It’s called Pensdale. Nothing ever happens here.
I have two brothers, Dean and Squid.
Dean is fourteen. I’m eleven. The only thing we have in common is that we’ve been at war with each other all my life.
He looks more like a stick insect than a human. He’s all arms and legs. Even if you can work out where his face is, you can’t really see much through the pimples. We share a room and I can hear him scratching his zits all night. It’s gross.
Squid is five going on six. He has the biggest head in the world. It’s so big it’s amazing he doesn’t faceplant every time he walks. He’s got a mop of curly brown hair that looks like a wig and he talks with a lisp that makes him sound like a three-year-old. For some reason people say he’s cute. People are stupid.
Me and my best mate Wriggler skim rocks every afternoon on the river on our way home from school.
There’s an art to it. I’m a natural. Wriggler isn’t. My record is twelve skims. He’s lucky to make three. I can’t tell him he’s hopeless because he’s my best mate and I need someone to hang around with all holidays. Besides, it’s good to watch someone who is more hopeless than me. And also, he’s got a video camera.
Guinness World Records say the world record for skimming is fifty-one skips.
I’ve worked out that if I can improve by one skim every day I will get to fifty by the end of the holidays. All I need to do is have two really good days when I improve by two and the record will be mine.
Tomorrow is day one of the countdown to me becoming world champion.