Crawf's Kick it to Nick

by Adrian Beck

  ‘Stop!’ yelled Ella, running towards them. ‘Don’t go on the oval!’

  But they ignored her.

  Nick stood on the bench’s padding, desperately searching the grass for bugs. He could see Ella trying to block the kids heading for the oval.

  Then the school PA crackled.

  ‘Good afternoon.’ It was Mr Blumfield. ‘Please be advised that the oval is strictly out of bounds during lunch today. No exceptions!’

  The PA clicked off. The Grade Fours skidded to a stop and began complaining to each other. The bell rang and the other grades burst outside. But no one came near the oval.

  Spotting Mr Morris standing at the four-square courts, Nick gave the oval one last look, then cautiously walked back to the edge of the grass.

  ‘That was super close,’ said Ella.

  Together they walked up to Mr Morris.

  ‘Were you behind that?’ asked Nick.

  Mr Morris chuckled. ‘Look, the principal has agreed to rest the oval till tomorrow’s game. That is all. Without proof of a problem, that’s the most he’ll agree to.’

  Angry rap music blared out from Mr Morris’s pocket.

  ‘Oh, my nephew installed a new ringtone. I’m starting to get used to it,’ said Mr Morris, bopping on the spot. ‘Excuse me.’ He answered his phone and wandered off.

  ‘I have no idea what we’re going to do about our extra training sesh today,’ said Nick. ‘We can’t play on the oval.’

  ‘Unless we solve this bug problem, there won’t even be a game tomorrow,’ Ella said.

  Jake, Taylor, Reevers, Kingy and Ava trudged towards Nick and Ella, looking miserable. Croc guns Cam and Mark were close behind.

  ‘So, how’re we gunna train if the oval’s a no-go?’ asked Jake, the Crocs’ curly haired midfielder. ‘Tomorrow’s our big chance to finally get a win.’

  ‘I’ll work something out,’ said Nick. ‘The game’s way too important to let this stop us.’

  ‘Is Bruiser okay?’ asked Ava.

  ‘Seems to be getting better,’ said Ella. ‘But he can’t play tomorrow.’

  Nick saw Reevers give Taylor a high five.

  ‘Hey! We’re supposed to be a team, remember!’

  ‘Yeah, Captain. And we’re supposed to be training,’ said Reevers. ‘You should stand up for us and get us onto the oval.’

  ‘Not a great idea,’ said Nick.

  ‘Sure it is,’ said Reevers, as he gestured to the others. ‘Come on, guys. Who cares if it’s out of bounds.’

  ‘The oval’s dangerous,’ said Nick, moving to stand in their way.

  But Taylor pointed at Nick. ‘Kingy?’

  Big Kingy shoved Nick aside. Nick was suddenly off-balance.

  ‘Ooof,’ he said, eating gravel.

  ‘Look, we can train right here, on the four-square court,’ said Ella, grabbing some hula hoops off the ground.

  ‘We can?’ asked Nick, getting back on his feet.

  ‘Quick hands are the key to beating the Stingrays. So, here’s something my dad taught me,’ said Ella.

  Everyone was paying attention now. Ella’s dad was Wally Marwin, an AFL superstar.

  She must be super worried about the situation, thought Nick – Ella normally avoided mentioning that she had a footy-star dad.

  ‘This’ll have us handballing like Sydney’s Josh Kennedy in no time,’ Ella said.

  She demonstrated how to toss the hoop in the air and fire a handpass through as the hoop bounced.

  Cam and Mark grabbed a hoop each and gave it a go.

  ‘Hula hoops? Seriously?’ asked Reevers. ‘Get down on the oval, Kingy. I’ll boot you a torp.’

  Kingy took off.

  ‘No!’ cried Nick, running after him.

  Reevers hoofed the footy out towards the wing. Kingy ran backwards onto the field with the flight of the ball.

  Nick glanced up the slope at Ella. She was holding the others at bay.

  Kingy dived backwards for the mark. He landed smack on his bum but managed to get his hands round the footy.

  ‘Nice one!’ Reevers yelled.

  Kingy stood up, red in the face, ready to kick back.

  Then he dropped to the ground.

  He lay still for a second. Till he began to shake . . .

  A bug was biting Kingy!

  Nick didn’t know what to do. He certainly didn’t want to risk getting bitten himself. Besides, Kingy had always been a bully. There probably wasn’t a single Croc he hadn’t pushed around. But it was usually Taylor and Reevers who put him up to it. And no one deserved this!

  Nick bolted towards Kingy on the wing, trying not to think about the orange bugs and their sharp pincers as he ran across the grass.

  Kingy had stopped shaking.

  ‘Where’s the bug? Where’s the bug?’ Nick asked. But Kingy was out of it.

  Kingy’s cheeks were caving in just like Bruiser’s had. His whole face was being sucked inwards.

  Nick couldn’t spot the insect anywhere. Kingy’s arms seemed clear. And so did his legs.

  ‘Kingy,’ yelled Nick. ‘Wake up!’

  Nick tilted the big guy’s head forward. No bug on his neck.

  ‘Where the heck is it?’ muttered Nick.

  Kingy’s skin started to wrinkle, as though he’d been in the water too long. But the wrinkles kept growing, covering his body. His chest was deflating. His uniform was suddenly too big on him.

  ‘No! No! No!’ cried Nick.

  Kingy looked like an Egyptian mummy who’d been dried out inside a tomb. And the transformation hadn’t finished yet.

  Nick’s mind raced. ‘He’ll be a skeleton soon if I don’t find this bug!’

  Nick rolled Kingy over, face down.

  And there it was.

  An angry orange bug, with its face sunk deep into Kingy’s lower back. It must have struck when Kingy took the mark.

  The bug wheezed as it sucked away.

  Nick tried to flick it off. But by now it was too well attached. So Nick grabbed the footy. He smacked it straight into the side of the bug. Half the insect went flying towards the centre square. Disgusting green goo was smeared all over the ball.

  Nick rolled Kingy back over. ‘Kingy?’

  Nothing.

  ‘Nick! Get off the oval,’ yelled Ella from the boundary.

  It was good advice. They were still in danger of a second attack.

  Nick grabbed Kingy under the arms and began to drag him.

  Nick forced himself to look only in a straight line. He didn’t want to know about any bugs on his right or left.

  He was nearly there. Only a few metres to go.

  Suddenly he couldn’t drag Kingy anymore. One of Kingy’s heels had dug up a hole in the muddy turf, and his foot had become stuck.

  Nick glanced around. Tufts of grass moved either side. Was it bugs or the wind?

  He yanked at Kingy, trying to free him. ‘Come on!’

  On Nick’s third tug, Kingy’s shrivelled foot slipped out of his shoe. Nick started dragging him again.

  Nick turned to look towards the boundary – not far to go now. But right in front of him an orange head burrowed out of the grass. Two black eyes stared. A bug – about the size of a rat. Its legs made that awful clicking sound as it scuttled.

  Clickety-clack, clickety-clack.

  Then it leapt at Nick.

  Whooomp!

  Ella slapped down the padding from the interchange bench.

  It landed on the bug. Green goo spurted out either side.

  ‘Nice one,’ said Nick, as he pulled Kingy across the boundary and back up onto the slope. The other Crocs huddled in to see if Kingy was okay.

  He didn’t look okay.

  Nick noticed Reevers was white as a ghost and Taylor had turned away.

  Mr Blumfield, Mr Baxter and Mrs Petunia came running towards them.

  ‘Give him some room,’ yelled Mr Baxter.

  The principal was on his mobile. ‘Yes, I need an ambulance right away. Some kind
of allergic reaction.’

  ‘What?’ yelled Nick. ‘It’s mutant bugs, not allergies!’

  Mr Blumfield glared at Nick.

  ‘What’s happening to me?’ asked a high-pitched voice. ‘Somebody help!’

  It was Kingy – but definitely not his usual voice. Still, this was a good sign. He was a third of the size and looked like a human apple core . . . but he was alive.

  Another narrow escape. But would the Crocs be so lucky tomorrow?

  Nick knew a good captain always put the needs of the team ahead of his own. If he wanted to be a worthy leader, Nick had to do whatever was necessary to protect his teammates. Even though he’d be risking detention or worse, he had to do something about the Stingray game.

  Leaving the others with Kingy, Nick ran up to the school office. The secretary was talking on the phone behind the front desk. Through the glass wall behind her, was Mr Blumfield’s empty office.

  Nick swiped a stress ball from the secretary’s desk. He did his best Buddy Franklin dribble kick, sending the ball to the far corner.

  Thud!

  As the secretary glanced towards the noise, Nick tiptoed past, into the principal’s office.

  Mr Blumfield’s desk was a mess. His precious signed footy – previously stolen by Taylor and Reevers – sat proudly front and centre. But it was the PA microphone that Nick was interested in.

  He grabbed it and flicked the switch. The speaker hummed in the ceiling.

  Nick cleared his throat. Despite tomorrow’s game being their most important so far, he knew what he had to do.

  ‘Listen up, everyone . . . Nick Harvey here. As Captain of the Crocs Under Elevens I realise that tomorrow is a huge game for us.’

  The secretary turned to him with eyes wide.

  Nick swallowed hard. ‘It fully sucks then, that I’ve got no choice but to call a boycott.’

  Nick looked out Blumfield’s window. His teammates, gathered around Kingy, were listening, open-mouthed.

  ‘That’s right, we’re boycotting. Because the oval is unsafe! Take a look at Kingy – it could be you next.’

  Suddenly, the echoey sound of his voice changed. Nick turned around. The principal was standing there, scowling, holding an unplugged power cord. He had cut off the PA.

  ‘So, as captain you’re calling a boycott, are you?’ asked Mr Blumfield, snatching the microphone.

  ‘Just did.’

  ‘Well, I’ll fix that.’ He pushed the plug back into the socket. ‘This is Principal Blumfield.’ The PA was back on.

  ‘Effective immediately, Nicholas Harvey is suspended from tomorrow’s game and is being stood down as captain.’

  Nick blinked. What?

  ‘Make no mistake. The match will go ahead as planned,’ continued Mr Blumfield. ‘I look forward to seeing you all there.’

  Mr Blumfield glared directly at Nick. ‘Carn the Crocs!’

  ‘Nicholas Darrel Harvey!’ Nick’s mum called down the hallway when she arrived home from work. ‘You’re in big trouble, mister!’

  Nick was so startled he dropped the biscuit tin he was holding onto the kitchen floor. He turned to face her.

  ‘I got a call from your school today,’ she said, in her ‘I’m about to go ballistic’ voice. ‘What on Earth were you thinking?’

  A million things rushed through Nick’s mind. He wanted to tell her all about the bugs. And how worried he was about the game tomorrow. But suddenly his eyes burnt. Then a tear escaped down his cheek. He ran to his mum and hugged her.

  ‘Mum, I lost the captaincy.’

  His mum hugged him back. ‘Oh, no! Really?’ she said.

  ‘Yefffff,’ said Nick, muffled by his mother’s cleaning uniform.

  ‘What a baby,’ muttered Nick’s brother Lucas as he wandered past.

  ‘I’m sorry, Nicko,’ his mum said. ‘But it sounds like Principal Blumfield feels he needs to teach you a lesson.’ His mum gave him a gentle smile. ‘Look, let’s take your mind off it for now. I’ve cancelled my second shift. You can give me a hand making dinner.’

  Despite his awesome noodle recipe, Nick didn’t have much of a knack for cooking, but he was keen for some company. ‘Sounds great.’

  They made rissoles. Nick squashed his into the shape of footballs and grinned. He knew Lucas wouldn’t eat those ones. He didn’t mention the bugs. There was no need to get his mum all fired up again.

  As Nick slumped into bed for an early night, he curled up into a ball and felt like staying that way for the rest of his life. If only Mr Blumfield had listened to them! Kingy wouldn’t be in hospital, all Nick’s teammates would be out of danger and Nick would still be captain.

  It was hopeless. Mr Blumfield was one of the most stubborn people Nick knew. Almost as stubborn as Ella.

  Out of nowhere, a football came sailing through Nick’s open bedroom window. It rolled to his bed and stopped.

  Ella must have kicked it in by accident, he thought. It would’ve taken an incredibly skilful kick to get the ball into his room on purpose.

  Then he saw the folded note taped to the footy. It said Nick in black texta.

  It was an incredibly skilful kick then.

  The note said, 5 mins. Front yard. Bring gumboots and camera – E.

  Nick grinned. He should’ve known she’d never give up.

  He stuffed pillows under his doona so no one would realise he was gone, changed into jeans, t-shirt and gumboots, ‘borrowed’ Lucas’s camera and snuck out the front door.

  Ella was waiting amongst the overgrown trees. They ran together to Bruiser’s place.

  After sneaking down the alley beside Bruiser’s house, they climbed up the fence and hung over Bruiser’s side.

  ‘I’m guessing you snuck out too?’ whispered Nick.

  ‘Yep.’ Ella grinned. ‘But it’s worth the risk. The only way we’re going to get the oval shut down is with hard evidence. And I think I know how to get it.’

  The bathroom window straight ahead was open. Steam escaped into the night. They could see Bruiser in the bath – he was humming the Crocs’ theme song to himself.

  ‘Bruiser!’ hissed Ella, but he didn’t hear her.

  ‘Is the big fella taking a late-night bubble bath? He’s not even playing tomorrow.’

  ‘You know he always follows his captain’s advice,’ whispered Ella. ‘Sorry. Ex-captain.’

  Right then, Bruiser stood up, reaching for a towel. Suddenly his bum was in plain view.

  ‘Ewww!’ cried Nick and Ella.

  ‘Aaah!’ yelled Bruiser, jumping in fright.

  He fell back into the bath, sending suds out the window.

  ‘Who’s there?’ Bruiser called.

  ‘Shhh,’ said Nick, ‘it’s just us.’

  Bruiser popped his head up. ‘What’s going on?’

  ‘Sorry to interrupt,’ said Nick. ‘But Ella’s got a plan!’

  ‘Sure do,’ said Ella. ‘Meet us out the front. With gumboots.’

  ‘And some pants,’ said Nick.

  The three of them jogged towards the school, handpassing a footy along the way. Bruiser struggled to keep up. He still didn’t seem a hundred percent and he winced whenever he used the arm he’d been bitten on.

  ‘Aren’t the school grounds locked overnight?’ asked Nick. ‘How are we going to take happy snaps of the bugs if we can’t even get to the oval?’

  ‘You’ll see,’ said Ella.

  Before they reached the school, Ella took a detour to a lower section of Cobar Creek. She waded straight into the water. ‘Hurry up!’

  Nick shrugged at Bruiser and they followed Ella into the creek. Freezing water lapped over the top of Nick’s gumboots and in seconds his socks were soaked.

  He was suddenly impressed by the resolve of AFL players who did their beach recovery during the depths of winter. The Pies’ Dane Swan never looked as cold as Nick felt right now!

  They passed the school, then followed the creek around, further up the hillside, until the oval came into view throu
gh the trees on their right.

  Ella stopped a few metres ahead.

  ‘So, I guess we head straight up the bank to the oval, then?’ asked Nick. ‘Try to spot a bug to photograph?’

  ‘Nope. Better idea,’ Ella said, pointing to the opening of a large drainpipe that emerged from the bank. ‘Check this out.’

  The drainpipe was made of rocks, concreted together. Water trickled out from the darkness within. The huge round opening was high above the creek. It looked like it might go on forever.

  ‘How is a stormwater drain going to get us on the oval?’ asked Nick. His words echoed back at him from within the opening.

  ‘We’re not gunna get on the oval,’ said Ella. ‘We’re gunna get underneath it. Straight to the source of the problem.’

  ‘Your plan is to go in there?’ asked Nick.

  ‘Why?’ asked Ella. ‘Are you scared?’

  ‘Well, I’ll admit I’m a little freaked out,’ said Bruiser.

  And as their words echoed, a shiver darted down Nick’s spine.

  Ella flicked on her torch. ‘I noticed this drainpipe when we were walking up the hill this morning. It runs beneath the oval. The bugs are burrowing up from underground, so there’s got to be a whole bunch in here.’

  The three of them stood just inside, peering into the gloom ahead. The air was thick and smelt like moss.

  Nick switched on the camera. ‘Okay. You guys better stay here. I should be the one to sort this out.’

  ‘Don’t be a moron,’ said Ella. ‘Besides, you’re not our captain anymore.’

  ‘Yeah, sorry. Dad’s made Taylor the new captain,’ said Bruiser.

  ‘What? Taylor?’ asked Nick. ‘Taylor Thorn?’

  ‘There’s only one Taylor on the team,’ muttered Ella. ‘Look, can you guys see any bugs yet, or what?’

  Nick shook his head.

  Dirty water was trickling through cracks in the concrete mortar.

  ‘We need to get further in,’ said Ella. ‘Right underneath the oval. Keep up!’

  Ella disappeared into the darkness. They followed her torchlight.

  ‘Listen, big fella, none of your killer farts down here, okay?’ said Nick as he and Bruiser started jogging. ‘We’ll all suffocate.’