Making the Team (4 page)

Chapter 17

No Control

The anger is bubbling up inside me. Everyone is watching. I see Mr Barwick put down his camera and start running over with his first-aid kit. My hands start to shake and my eyes start to flicker. I've got to hide.

I pick myself up and dash under the grandstand. There's a storeroom door to my left. I open it and run inside, locking it behind me. My body starts to burn. “Aaagggh!” I scream. My chest muscles erupt and my biceps expand. My tummy muscles turn into a six-pack. Every part of me is bigger and stronger. My toes pop out of my shoes again. My uniform rips apart and my pants split. Mum is going to kill me!

The curse has struck again.

Luckily, there is a training bag in the corner. I open it up to find a Broncos training shirt and shorts. I pull them over my muscly body. They're tight, but they'll do.

My first thought is to stay here, but there's no water around to change me back. There's no other option but to get out of here. Slowly I open the door and peek out. Training has started. The only exit is on the other side of the stadium. I'll have to run across the field to get there.

I run straight past my class, my legs flexing with muscle and speed. No one recognises me. Good. I continue across the field, I look back to see if Mr Barwick is watching when BANG! I crash into something. I look down to see the Broncos forwards Ben Hannant and Josh McGuire staring up at me. I've knocked them to the ground! “S-sorry,” I say and keep running.

“Hey you! Wait! Come back!” yells Hannant. He can see I'm wearing a Broncos training uniform. I ignore him, but the Broncos coach – Coach Griffin – steps out in front of me with his hands on his hips, looking at me with squinted eyes. His cap sits crooked on his head and sweat drips from his forehead. I slow down and try to jog
around him, but he steps in my way. I move to the left, and again, he won't let me pass.

“Stop right there!” he says, raising his voice. “You. Me. Chat. Now.”

Chapter 18

The Sack

“Who are you?” Coach Griffin asks, sneaking a look at the massive biceps bulging through my training shirt. Before I can reply, he cuts me off. “Oh, I get it. You must be in Fitzy's under-20 boys.”

I don't even know who Fitzy is, so I just stay quiet. I look back at the grandstand. Justice is down the front, watching helplessly. He goes from fiddling with his hair to chewing his nails. I may have just flattened two forwards, but inside I'm shaking.

Coach Griffin looks at his clipboard. “Fitzy says you're a fullback, but you look more like a second-rower to me,”
he says, scratching his head. He makes his decision. “The backline is practising some goal-line attack moves, go and have a run with them,” he orders, pointing towards the other end of the field.

Around me players are tackling, catching high balls and running around witch's hats. Most of the training drills are similar to ones we did when I played for the Mount Isa Miners. Maybe if I pretend that I'm training with my old friends, I won't be so nervous. My training shorts are so tight I have to pull them out of my bum as I approach the assistant coach. He's waiting for me. Next to him is Jack Reed, one of the Broncos wingers. Reed nods at me. I look away quickly. The only time I've seen Jack Reed is on TV, scoring heaps of tries. This guy is a legend. I work up the courage to go over and shake his hand but trip over a tackling bag. I do a tumble roll, gammin' acting like I meant it. Shame job.

“This next move is called ‘The Sack',” the assistant coach is explaining.

Jack Reed starts to laugh. “Ha ha, that's a funny name for a set play,” says Reed, still laughing. “Why is it called
‘The Sack'?” he asks.

The assistant coach looks at him sternly. “It's called that because if you can't remember how to do it you'll get the sack!” Jack Reed stops laughing. The assistant coach explains the move. The fullback runs the ball up and throws a flat cut-out pass to the winger. The winger steps in from his wing to draw two defenders. As the defenders are drawn, the winger throws an inside pass to the centre and then the centre is supposed to score a try. Sounds easy. But it's not.

The assistant coach selects the players and tells them where to stand. He calls them by their first names. He doesn't know my name, so he just says ‘you'.

I'm the fullback for this move. It's my job to start things off. The ball is kicked high into the air. I watch it spiral down towards me. The breeze knocks it off course a little and I need to move backwards if I'm to catch it on the full. THUD! It falls straight into my hands. I clasp it tightly and feel the power boost through my massive legs as I prepare to run the ball up.

Then, suddenly, a thought hits me. I've never played
footy as the man-creature! My nervous energy brings back flashes of my heroes showing off their deadly skills.

Boom! My brain clicks into gear and a sense of calmness surrounds me. I feel untouchable. I am untouchable.

Chapter 19

Justice to the Rescue

The defenders are coming at me. They're wearing blue singlets over their training gear. I could try to sidestep them, but that would not be part of the set move. Jack Reed is on my left and calling for the ball. In a nanosecond, I step outside the defenders and throw a fast and flat cut-out pass to Reed. The ball travels like a bullet at supersonic speed and hits him in the middle of the chest. Reed draws the defenders from the wing, quickly stepping towards the centre of the field. The centre runs a diagonal line and Reed throws him a tricky little inside pass. The centre goes in to score an easy try.

Even though it's a training drill, the kids in the grandstand cheer like it's an actual game. Justice is holding his fist in the air. “The Sack” must look pretty good from where they're sitting.

Jack Reed jogs up and pats me on the shoulder.

“Nice pass,” he says, wiping the sweat from his face with his red singlet.

The assistant coach waves his hand at Coach Griffin, asking him to come over. Coach Griffin arrives and the assistant coach whispers something in his ear. Coach Griffin writes something on his clipboard and walks over to me.

“Fitzy didn't tell us your name,” he says. “What is it?” I look down at my feet, trying to think up an answer. I can't tell him my real name. That would be giving away my secret. Bruce Wayne never said, “Oh by the way, I'm that fella they call Batman.” These types of things are top secret.

“Umm,” I say, as I twist my giant sausage fingers. “Spit it out!” says Coach Griffin. He drums his pen on the clipboard impatiently.

“You wanna know who this fella is?” a cheeky voice pipes up. It's Justice. He's run onto the field without
permission. The two security guards who have been chasing him arrive huffing and puffing. Coach Griffin waves them away, too interested in hearing what Justice has got to say. “This is Deadly D bro, the new Indigenous NRL superstar!” Justice announces this as if he's revealing a prize on a game show.

“Yeah and who are you?” asks Coach Griffin.

Justice sticks his finger in his mouth and tries to think of an answer. The light bulb goes on in his head. “My name is Justice Jones, I'm Deadly D's personal assistant,” he answers.

Coach Griffin screws his face up. “Personal assistant?” he says. “You're only a kid!”

“Go easy on him Coach,” I mumble deeply. “He's an orphan. My mum and I look after him,” Justice elbows me in the hip for fibbing. I try not to laugh. Coach Griffin instantly feels bad for snapping at Justice.

“Can you do me a job, Justice?” asks Coach.

“Yeah, sure Mr Coach!” Justice says enthusiastically. He is hopping from one foot to the other like he's doing the shaker leg.

“Will you make sure that Deadly starts coming to training? Let's see if he's ready to play first grade.”

Justice starts jumping up and down like he just won the lotto.

“Sweet as! Sure thing Mr Coach!” smiles Justice. “We'd love to, wouldn't we Deadly?” I'm shocked, but I smile and try to look relaxed. I'm sweating bullets. Justice leaves me standing at one end of the field as he walks back to the other with Coach Griffin. I can see Justice pulling something out of his pocket.

“Hey Coach, you want some Pinky?”

Chapter 20

Fish 'n' Toes

I've recovered from yesterday's excursion. Mum went off her head about me wrecking my uniform and shoes again. She says I'll have to get a job to start paying for all the stuff I'm destroying. I think that is about to happen. I just can't tell her yet.

Today is Saturday and Justice and I are sitting on the jetty trying to catch a fish. I used to catch heaps of yellowbelly in the creek at my old house, but here in the Brisbane River nothing is biting. And even if it was, I'm not sure if I'd eat it. Justice is telling me about his meeting with Coach Griffin yesterday. Griffin wants me at training next week. He says if I make first grade, I could get paid big bucks! Can you imagine it? That would be awesome!
The scary thing is, I'm just eleven-year-old Dylan Conlan from the bush. I'm only Deadly D when I get angry and I hate getting angry.

I put a ball of bread on my hook and cast it out. Justice dips his toes in the water. “What if they find out about my curse?” I ask. I think about men in suits coming to do experiments – on me.

“Curse?” says Justice. “You have a gift, bro. Any guys would kill to do what you're doing. You knocked over two of their biggest forwards. You're not cursed, you are blessed man!”

I look out across the river and think about what Justice says. My ancestors and people were treated badly for a long time. Maybe I should use the curse to my advantage and help my people. Mum could do with the extra money and I could inspire kids like my cousins. Maybe I am blessed. The more I think about it, the more I want to do it.

Suddenly, there's a bump on the end of my line.

“Got one!” I say as I pull the line in hard. Justice starts screaming. “What's the matter?” I ask.

“My toe, you caught my toe, bro!” he yells in agony. I put my line down and try to pull the hook out of his big toe. It's bleeding. Kids riding past on their bikes stop and stare. He stands up and starts flexing his chest muscles. I wiggle the hook and try to ease it out, but he's still screaming. The old guy at the fish 'n' chip shop stops crumbing his fish and looks over. I gently move the hook back and forth, trying to loosen it from his toe. Justice puts his hands above his head and starts flexing his biceps. Now he's making weird grunting sounds through his teeth.

“Knock off shakin'. I'm trying to get this hook here outta ya!” I yell.

“I'm trying to turn into the man-creature like you!” he moans. “I love the pain, give me more, I love it!” he says through tight lips. I give the hook one last twist and it comes out. Justice looks down at his bloodied big toe. He's out of breath from carrying on like a lunatic.

“It's cool,” I say. “My mum has some Band-Aids.” I've never actually caught a Kiwi toe-fish before. I wonder if the old fella at the fish 'n' chip shop could crumb it for us?

Chapter 21

Itchy Bottom

I don't like lying to Mum. Yesterday I told her I took her advice and got a job. She thinks Justice and I are ball-boys for the Broncos. It's kind of true. I will be holding a ball, but some very big men will be tackling me.

It's my first day of training. Justice and I catch the bus and get off one stop before the stadium. There is a bridge close by and we find a path that leads underneath it. Under the bridge is graffiti, broken bottles and an old wheelie bin. The bin stinks like rotten fish.

It's time for me to turn into Deadly D. I've never done it on purpose before. Justice is a bit nervous. “Stand there
Dylan. Now I am going to get you really angry, but don't hurt me. I am your friend remember?” he explains.

“Yeah, hurry up. We don't want to be late for training,” I say. Justice turns his back and thinks of a way to get me upset. He spins around and looks me square in the eye. He pokes me in the chest.

“Your bottom is so itchy, because you have … WORMS!” he yells. My mouth starts to turn upwards and I burst out laughing. Justice cracks up too. What a dumb thing to say. It's so funny that I'm rolling around on the ground.

“Worms? That is so stupid!” I say cracking up. “Can't you think of something better?”

Justice looks around. He asks me to stand just out of the shadow of the bridge. He walks over to the wheelie bin.

“Close your eyes and count to thirty!” he says.

I hear him and the wheelie bin go up the path. I don't know what he's doing. I can hear him above me. “… Twenty-eight, twenty-nine, thirty!”

“LOOK UP!” he yells.

Justice throws the wheelie bin off the bridge. It lands right on top of me, rotten fish and all. I am trapped inside
the disgusting bin. As I feel a dead fish slide down my face, my blood starts to boil. My hands shake and my eyes go blurry. The muscles start to pop out everywhere.