‘What did you say?’ Fisk asked, his voice gravelly and menacing.

‘You heard me, Fisk. How did you score twenty in the soccer quiz?’

‘Cos I’ve got brains, stupid. Not like you.’

‘Well, that’s not what I heard,’ I said.

‘And what did you hear?’

I was being pushed into a corner. I didn’t want to dob Jimmy Paisley in. Fisk had cheated, but I had no proof. Time to back off.

‘It’s just that getting twenty out of twenty is an awesome score, and you’re never in the library, and–’

‘There’s only one thing stopping me from knocking your lights out, Grady. You know what it is?’ He didn’t wait for my answer. ‘It’s because I don’t want to do anything that’s gonna stop me from winning the Legend this year. No one’s gonna beat me. In basketball. In athletics. Swimming. No one, you hear me?’

‘You reckon?’ a sharp little voice piped up behind me. Fisk and I both turned.

‘And who the hell are you, you little runt?’ Fisk asked.

I couldn’t believe my eyes.

‘Daryl. Daryl Ratzasis. Rat, for short. Can I play you, twenty-one?’

‘With you?’ Fisk scoffed. ‘You wouldn’t make the ring. Buzz off, squirt.’

‘If you beat me, I won’t bash you,’ Rat said. There was a roar of laughter from the group, though I sensed that some of the kids recognised Rat. Fisk certainly didn’t, though.

‘You little fool. You can’t speak like that to me.’ Fisk walked up to Rat and pushed him fair square in the chest. I don’t think Rat was expecting it. He staggered backwards, stumbling into the kids behind him. Anger flashed across his face. He looked mean.

‘Twenty-one,’ he said to Fisk, straightening up.

‘Fine,’ Fisk hissed. ‘C’mon then.’

‘No five-pointers,’ said Rat. ‘That’d make it too easy.’

‘Whatever.’

The next ten minutes were pure joy. Rat pulled on a pair of sunglasses and shoved his cap more firmly onto his head. He was a totally different person with a basketball in his hand, effortlessly nailing basket after basket. It was his game. Fisk was at a loss. He looked around for Mazis, but he had left. I figured it was Mazis who’d shone the red laser light into my eyes during my play-off with Fisk. But even if Mazis had been around, I doubt the red light would have put Rat off his game. Especially with those dark glasses he was wearing.

Rat swished in seven three-pointers in a row. Fisk had hit two three-pointers, along with another three two-pointers and a one-pointer. The final score was 21 to 13.

‘What are you doing here, anyway?’ Fisk bellowed at Rat.

‘It’s my first day of school.’ Rat beamed an ugly grin at Fisk. ‘And I love it!’

Fisk stormed off, his pride dented and, more importantly, his chances of being the Legend of Basketball hit for a huge, swishing three-pointer. By a little Rat!

‘Hey, Travis!’ I yelled, ‘what about your secret?’

Travis made a rude gesture and kept on walking.

On the way to the gym we told Bryce about our tunnel adventure. He didn’t seem too impressed, especially with the Bubbaman, for arranging with Jack to meet us at the other end.

‘So how did Paisley handle Miss Javros?’ Bryce asked.

‘Actually, he did well. He copped it for the mess, but never let on,’ I said.

We threw a few baskets from the basketball court key and then from outside. Bryce didn’t seem to like the dribbling, but his underarm shooting was awesome.

‘You sure that’s actually legal, Bryce?’ I asked.

‘It’s not that much different from how people do lay-ups,’ he replied. ‘They bring the ball up from low with an underarm action.’

Bubba was attempting one as we spoke.

‘There are many exceptions, of course,’ Bryce laughed, as Bubba’s shot smacked into the underside of the backboard and rebounded, just missing his head. Bubba collapsed onto the court, arms and legs everywhere.

Mrs Cartwright applauded from the stadium door.

‘Good to see you practising,’ she bellowed, the suggestion of a smile almost cracking her face. ‘But you, boy. The roly-poly one on the ground. You’d better work on those lay-ups before I see you next!’ The hard line to her mouth returned. On our way out, Bubba nudged me.

‘Look, isn’t that Mr Fisk?’

Mrs Waite and Mr Fisk were laughing together outside her office. Travis Fisk stood a few metres back, as if hoping no one would see him.

‘Hey, Travis!’ I called.

He looked up and scowled. Mr Fisk looked over too. He stared at me. I held his gaze for a moment. I thought he was about to say something, but he turned away.

‘He’s as creepy as his son,’ I mumbled to Bubba and Bryce.

‘You shouldn’t have done that, Mitch,’ said Bryce.

The next day we fronted up for the quiz. No one had any idea what to expect. It would have suited the kids who didn’t bother much with study. Mazis and Fisk looked happy and relaxed. Bubba was working through a little pocketbook of basketball stats he had. Bryce was engrossed in a book about caves and tunnels.

‘Right then, you lot,’ said Mrs Cartwright. ‘Sit down. Each of you take a test paper. Good. I’m going to call out each question once.’

That caused a few heads to glance up sharply.

‘You’re going to read the questions?’ a voice behind me asked.

‘That’s what I said,’ Mrs Cartwright scowled. ‘Is there a problem? It’s none of your business anyway. If you don’t concentrate, you’ll miss the question. Are you lot ready?’

‘Excuse me, Mrs Cartwright!’

She groaned loudly, rolled her eyes and turned towards the voice.

‘What?’ she boomed.

‘Well, I was just wondering if we would be given a pencil, or something, or–’

‘Did I forget to say bring a pen, did I?’ Everyone looked up, stunned at the new, gentle, sing-song voice coming from Mrs Cartwright. The silence lasted a whole three seconds.

‘Well, silly me!’ she yelled. ‘Go and get something and hurry up about it!’

That was more like it.

‘Can’t be right all the time,’ a voice sniggered behind me.

The whole room broke into laughter again.

‘What’s so funny?’ she bellowed.

People shuffled off to grab a pen or pencil. Bryce was distributing them from his pockets. He must have had a dozen different sorts.

‘Thanks, Bryce.’

‘You’re the man, Bryce.’

‘Ta, mate.’

‘Good one, Flavel.’

‘Question one. What do the letters N–B–L stand for?’ said Mrs Cartwright.

Well, that wasn’t so difficult, I thought. Maybe this quiz wasn’t going to be too bad. Bubba was giving me the thumbs up.

‘Question two. What number is closest to the most points ever scored by an individual in an NBL game?’ Confused faces stared at Mrs Cartwright – except for one. Bubba, tongue poking out, was scrawling away, even before she began reading out the four multi-choice options.

Bubba looked up at me again with his thumb in the air. He seemed to have no idea that nearly everyone else had written nothing. The big Bubba grin was set in concrete. He was in heaven. Rat also looked pleased with the way things were going.

‘Question three. How many substitutes are allowed?’

It looked like the quiz would be a real mix of questions and that Mrs Cartwright would plough on, hardly pausing for breath. You needed to be a quick writer to keep up with her. That’s if you knew the answers to the questions.

‘Question four.’ Then Mrs Cartwright groaned. ‘I can’t be bothered reading out all these questions. The questions are printed on your test paper. Read them yourselves.’

She had been looking at Rat as she barked out this latest instruction. I turned round to look at him myself. Now Rat wasn’t looking so happy. I turned back to my own paper and pressed on. The room was silent, but for the odd cough and scrape of a chair leg.

‘And if you’re thinking of telling your girlfriends all the questions, well don’t bother,’ Mrs Cartwright chuckled. ‘You got the easy test.’

I looked over at Rat. He was staring at the quiz paper and muttering. He had a finger on the words. Suddenly he looked up at me. He smiled. But it wasn’t a very convincing smile.

Most people looked dejected as they filed out of the room. I saw Bryce place his scrap paper onto the teacher’s desk.

‘Hey! I don’t want your scrap paper. Do something useful with it, like sticking it in a recycle bin,’ she bellowed.

Bryce shrugged, and put the piece of paper back into his pocket.

Then I noticed Bubba almost skipping as he left.