Patty and The Shadows

by Patty (Patrick) Mills

  HI THERE – I’m Patty Mills.

  I play basketball in the NBA and I’ve represented Australia at the Olympics three times. That’s these days. Growing up, I was a sport-loving kid just like you. And that’s why I’m excited about my new series of kids’ books, Game Day!

  Patty, the main character, loves playing every sport he can – especially basketball. He learns many important skills and values through sport, dancing, and of course at school. He also has a whole lot of fun with his friends, but when it comes to game day, he always makes sure he’s ready to perform.

  I think you’re going to love taking this journey with Patty. Have fun reading the series and I hope to see you on the basketball court one day!

  THE GAME DAY! SERIES

  BOOK 1 Patty Hits the Court

  BOOK 2 Patty and the Shadows

  BOOK 3 Patty Takes Charge

  First published by Allen & Unwin in 2017

  Copyright © Text, Patty Mills and Jared Thomas 2017

  Copyright © Illustrations, Nahum Ziersch 2017

  All rights reserved. No part of this book may be reproduced or transmitted in any form or by any means, electronic or mechanical, including photocopying, recording or by any information storage and retrieval system, without prior permission in writing from the publisher. The Australian Copyright Act 1968 (the Act) allows a maximum of one chapter or ten per cent of this book, whichever is the greater, to be photocopied by any educational institution for its educational purposes provided that the educational institution (or body that administers it) has given a remuneration notice to the Copyright Agency (Australia) under the Act.

  Allen & Unwin

  83 Alexander Street

  Crows Nest NSW 2065

  Australia

  Phone: (61 2) 8425 0100

  Email: info@allenandunwin.com

  Web: www.allenandunwin.com

  A Cataloguing-in-Publication entry is available from the National Library of Australia

  www.trove.nla.gov.au

  ISBN 978 1 76029 511 0

  eISBN 978 1 76063 898 6

  For teaching resources, explore

  www.allenandunwin.com/resources/for-teachers

  Cover design by Ruth Grüner & Nahum Ziersch

  Text design & typesetting by Ruth Grüner

  Cover illustration by Nahum Ziersch

  Set by Ruth Grüner

  CONTENTS

  CHAPTER 1

  CHAPTER 2

  CHAPTER 3

  CHAPTER 4

  CHAPTER 5

  CHAPTER 6

  CHAPTER 7

  CHAPTER 8

  CHAPTER 9

  CHAPTER 10

  CHAPTER 11

  CHAPTER 12

  CHAPTER 13

  CHAPTER 14

  CHAPTER 15

  CHAPTER 16

  CHAPTER 17

  CHAPTER 18

  CHAPTER 19

  CHAPTER 20

  CHAPTER 21

  ‘SHOOT, PATTY, SHOOT,’ Josie called out as I caught the ball under the basket.

  I shot an easy basket and then Tiago said, ‘I’ve had enough, we’ve been playing for hours.’

  ‘Come on, Tiago,’ Manu protested. ‘There’s still daylight, let’s keep playing.’

  Josie and I followed Tiago to the side of the court and slumped onto the grass.

  ‘I wish the holidays didn’t have to end,’ I complained, looking up at the clouds.

  ‘Me too,’ Tiago said.

  ‘At least you weren’t sick for half the holidays, like me!’

  ‘Well, at least you got to miss the last week of school!’ Boris said.

  ‘Yeah, stuck in bed the whole time,’ I reminded my friends. Although I’d had a high fever, I still remembered how frustrated I’d felt. I could see the basketball hoop on our garage outside my bedroom window, but I couldn’t practise! Since I’d recovered I’d more than made up for lost time, and was either making layups at home or at the courts with my friends every day. I could tell my skills had improved. I was determined that my team would get further than the semifinals this year.

  I picked up the ball again and headed back out onto the court.

  ‘Gee, Patty, looks like you’ve really been working on your shot,’ Boris said when I made a layup. ‘Based on my calculations, you’re a 50 per cent better shooter than you were last season!’

  I rolled my eyes at Boris, but I was pleased he’d noticed. ‘I’m going to play for Australia at the Olympics one day,’ I said. ‘Against you lot!’ And I passed the ball to Boris. Boris was from France, Tiago was from Brazil and Manu was from Argentina, and one day they would all return to their home countries.

  ‘Come on, let’s play some more,’ I said. ‘Or at least go for a ride. I want to make the most of what’s left of the holidays.’

  Josie’s face was red and covered in sweat. ‘I need to refuel,’ she said. ‘Want to go to the milk bar?’

  It was the best idea we’d heard all day.

  WE RAN OUT of the milk bar to a picnic table in the park across the street. Josie ripped open the huge bag of mixed lollies we’d pooled our money to buy, and spread it on the table for us all to share.

  Manu dove onto the pile with both hands.

  Tyson appeared down the street, riding his BMX. He pulled up at our table and grabbed a handful of lollies. ‘G’day, goody-goodies,’ he said.

  ‘Where are you going?’ I asked.

  ‘Heading to the skate park,’ he said, grinning at me before stuffing his mouth. ‘I’ve just been practising my four hundred metres.’

  The last time we raced at athletics Tyson had only just beaten me. ‘You need all the practice you can get,’ I told him.

  ‘Well, you’ll get the chance to see me in action tonight, won’t you, Patty?’ He took some more lollies and rode off.

  ‘Why does he always have to be like that?’ Tiago asked, picking out the strawberries-and-creams.

  It was our first athletics training for the new term that night. I wondered if Tyson really had been practising. I didn’t want him to thrash me; I’d been gaining ground on him before the end of last year.

  I SAT ON THE EDGE of my bed pulling on my shoes. I was starting to feel nervous about racing against Tyson. Sure, the gang and I had run around when we played basketball and cricket over the holidays, but it was ages since I’d practised running seriously.

  I looked up at my poster of Cathy Freeman. Mum would always ask me if I wanted to watch her famous four-hundred-metre race from the Sydney Olympics whenever I didn’t feel like training. She knew it got me pumped.

  I’ve watched the race hundreds of times and the thing I love about it most is seeing Cathy’s face afterwards. She doesn’t look happy when she wins, but she does look really proud that she worked so hard.

  As we stopped at the first set of traffic lights on the way to training Dad asked, ‘What’s wrong, Patty? You didn’t get up to any trouble with your friends today, did you?’

  ‘No,’ I told him, thinking about the mountain of lollies that we bought. ‘I’m just worried that Tyson might thrash me tonight.’

  ‘It’s only practice,’ Dad said. But it was never just practice when it came to Tyson and I competing against each other.

  AT THE ATHLETICS PARK, Tyson, Boris, Manu, Tiago and I were doing flips onto the high jump mat when our coach marshalled us for the four hundred metres.

  We started stretching for the race. The thing that I focused on before running the four hundred was my breathing. I wanted it to stay steady as I ran – I didn’t want to be puffing and panting.

  After a few minutes the coach called us up to our marks.

  ‘Get ready, Shorty,’ Tyson tease
d.

  He knew I was self-conscious about my height and that I hated being called Shorty. Now I really wanted to beat him.

  When our coach, Cindy, fired the starting gun, I ran out of the blocks like I usually do, trying to stay close to the pack. I focused on getting my arms and legs pumping in a smooth rhythm along with my breathing. I had to pace myself – you can’t win a race in the first few seconds.

  By the middle of the first straight I realised that it was just Tyson and me, neck and neck.

  I thought he might break ahead by the two-hundred-metre mark, but he stayed right there beside me. I needed to decide when to make my break. I told myself to keep up with him around the last bend, then go for it.

  And as soon as we were into the home straight, I gave it everything I had.

  It wasn’t until I crossed the finish line and looked back that I realised I’d won. And it wasn’t even close – I’d won the race by metres.

  ‘That was a fluke, Shorty,’ Tyson said when he’d finally caught his breath. As he walked alongside me, I noticed that I’d grown. For the first time, I was almost as tall as Tyson.

  THE BEST THING about being back at school was having all my friends together to play basketball at recess and footy at lunchtime. There were always enough kids to play full teams and our matches were serious. We kept score and nominated a referee who even used a whistle.

  I had started playing tennis over the summer break and loved it, so I tried to play a couple of games of tennis with Manu during the week, too.

  Josie and I were excited to start training for our second season of basketball. We weren’t beginners anymore; we’d learned skills and had even made the semifinals the year before. Now we were determined to play in our first grand final.

  ‘G’day, Patty,’ Tyson said when I walked into the gym and picked up a ball. I was waiting for him to say something smart, but he stayed silent.

  I took a shot from near the three-point line and it went in. It was the furthest from the basket I’d ever scored. I put my newfound strength down to my sudden growth – last year, shooting from the free-throw line had seemed almost impossible. I quietly pumped my fist, but then Tyson came over.

  ‘If you can’t hit three in a row, it’s just a fluke,’ he said.

  When my second shot bounced off the hoop, Tyson just laughed and walked away.

  IN THE LESSON after basketball training my new teacher, Ms Baker, told us, ‘We’re going to be studying Aboriginal and Torres Strait Islander history and culture in the lead-up to Reconciliation Week and Mabo Day.’

  My face lit up when Ms Baker said ‘Mabo Day’ – it’s named after my Grandad, Eddie Mabo, who went to the High Court of Australia and proved that the Murray Islands belong to Murray Island people.

  ‘Not much to learn!’ Tyson remarked. I felt the blood drain from my face.

  ‘What do you mean, Tyson?’ Ms Baker asked.

  ‘Well, what were Aborigines doing before white people arrived? Just eating bugs and insects and things.’

  I looked at Josie and I could tell that she was just as shocked and upset as I was. Tyson knew that Josie was Torres Strait Islander and that my mum is Aboriginal and my dad is a Torres Strait Islander.

  Ms Baker flicked a glance at us to see if we were okay, then gave Tyson a serious look. ‘I think you’ll find there’s a lot to learn over the coming weeks, Tyson.’

  ‘Yeah, Aboriginal and Torres Strait Islanders have got some of the best foods going,’ I told him.

  ‘Like lizards and witchetty grubs?’

  Tyson replied. ‘What would you know, Patty? You live in the city.’

  I was so angry, and Josie knew it. She leaned over to me and said, ‘Don’t worry about it. He’s just being an idiot.’

  Ms Baker raised her voice over the laughing and talking. ‘Okay, Tyson, that’s enough now.’ Then she moved on to the lesson about Aboriginal and Torres Strait Islander foods.

  Ms Baker explained how there are Aboriginal people on the mainland of Australia, and Torres Strait Island people of the Torres Strait. She showed us a map of Australia with hundreds of different coloured sections representing all the different Aboriginal language groups. Ms Baker told the class how each group has its own culture. My mum’s family are Kokatha people, and I knew that their culture and Dad’s Torres Strait Islander culture were similar in some ways, but also very different.

  ‘The oldest tools in the world have been found in Australia,’ Ms Baker said. ‘And Aboriginal people were the first to make bread, thousands of years before people from any other country.’

  ‘No way, really?’ said Boris. It was something I hadn’t known, either. ‘That’s impressive.’

  Then Ms Baker listed a whole lot of foods that Aboriginal and Torres Strait Islander people eat that some of my classmates eat all the time. Some are served up in fancy restaurants.

  Ms Baker smiled when she said, ‘Seafood was commonly eaten by coastal Aboriginal people before European arrival in Australia, including some of my personal favourite foods, like snapper, salmon, whiting, oysters, prawns and crayfish.’

  ‘Ms Baker, you’re making me hungry!’ Manu said.

  ‘You’re always hungry, Manu!’ we all chorused.

  Ms Baker ended the class by saying, ‘Next time I’ll talk about Indigenous fruit and vegetables, some of which have far greater vitamin C content than even oranges.’

  Although Ms Baker’s class was amazing, I still felt sick in the stomach because of what Tyson had said. He might as well have said, ‘I think Aboriginal and Torres Strait Islander people are stupid.’

  ‘DINNER’S READY,’ Mum called out, but I wasn’t in the mood for eating. I just wanted to keep shooting hoops in the driveway.

  After a while Dad poked his head out the front door and said, ‘You can give that a rest now and come and have dinner.’

  I sat at the dining table and raked through Mum’s spaghetti bolognaise with my fork.

  Mum said, ‘I thought you loved spaghetti?’

  ‘I’d rather have some bush tucker.’

  Mum chuckled. ‘It’s not that easy to get around here, Patty.’

  ‘It’s great when your uncles send down things like turtle and dugong from the Torres Strait,’ Dad said, ‘but we need to save that for special occasions.’

  I sat there for a while longer, playing with my food. Eventually Mum put down her fork and asked, ‘What’s wrong, Patty?’

  ‘We’re learning about Aboriginal and Torres Strait Islander things at school,’ I began.

  ‘That’s a good thing, though. You’re not happy about it?’

  ‘Tyson said something stupid.’

  Dad sighed. ‘What did he say?’

  ‘He said our people did nothing except eat bugs and grubs until his people came along.’

  I expected Dad and Mum to get angry, but they stayed calm.

  ‘And is what Tyson said true?’ Dad asked.

  ‘I know it’s not.’

  ‘Unfortunately, Patty, you’re going to hear people say a lot of things about your people that are wrong. You need to hold in your heart what you know is true,’ Mum told me.

  ‘Sometimes I wish I didn’t need to worry about people saying stupid things. I wish I could just be comfortable like I am in our dance group with other Torres Strait Islanders.’

  ‘Well,’ Dad said, ‘I have some news that might cheer you up.’

  ‘Really?’ I asked. ‘What is it?’

  ‘We’ve been talking to Uncle Noel about starting up a junior basketball team. It’ll be for Aboriginal and Torres Strait Islander kids, and kids from diverse cultural backgrounds. Would you be interested? Josie’s parents are asking her, too. The team will be called the Shadows.’

  I didn’t even need time to think about it. ‘Yes! I’d love to,’ I said. ‘Especially because I won’t have to play with Tyson.’

  Mum gave me her serious look and said, ‘We don’t want you to stop playing for the school team. And if what Tyson thinks is
important to you, you’re not going to change his mind by avoiding him.’

  ‘The important thing is not to avoid Tyson, you need to show him that Aboriginal and Torres Strait Islander kids are capable of just as much as anyone else,’ Dad said.

  ‘But don’t forget athletics and dancing, too, Patty,’ Mum said. ‘Are you sure you don’t want to give athletics a rest for a little while?’

  ‘Of course not, I can do it all.’

  ‘Well, just as long as you stay on top of your homework.’

  ‘There’s always so much homework,’ I complained. ‘But I can handle it.’

  I couldn’t wait to become a Shadow.

  ‘ARE YOU NERVOUS?’ Dad asked as we drove to my first practice with the Shadows.

  ‘Kind of. More excited, I guess.’

  ‘Excited about becoming the best basketball team in town?’

  ‘Meeting my new teammates.’

  ‘Some of them have only recently moved to town. We’re counting on you and Josie to make them feel welcome here,’ Dad said.

  As we walked into the stadium Josie’s dad shook Dad’s hand, and they walked over to the other parents sitting in the stands. ‘Good luck, Patty,’ Dad called.

  Josie was standing under the basket at the far end of the court with Uncle Noel and my new teammates. I saw a tall kid there and realised I knew him – it was Luke, a member of our Torres Strait dance group, Gerib Sik. ‘Good to see you, bala,’ Luke said. We tapped fists.

  Uncle Noel called the group into a circle and said, ‘Okay, let’s go around telling each other a bit about ourselves. Patty, you first.’

  I smiled at the group. ‘I’m Patty. My dad is Torres Strait Islander and Mum is Kokatha, from South Australia.’

  A kid standing across from me said, ‘That’s deadly! I’ve only met one other fella who is Aboriginal and Torres Strait.’

  ‘I played my first season of basketball last year and I love it,’ I told them. ‘I’m in the Torres Strait dance group with Josie and Luke and Uncle Noel, too.’