Whippersnapper

by Felice Arena

  PUFFIN BOOKS

  WHIPPERSNAPPER

  After a terrible accident, Gus can’t believe he’s survived. But has he? He’s woken up in the body of an old man and his real body is unconscious in intensive care. Now he’s got a seventy-year-old wife, really bad taste in clothes, and everyone thinks he’s crazy.

  Gus lives and breathes basketball, but could he actually be playing for his life this time? Will he ever be fourteen again?

  Contents

  CHAPTER 01

  CHAPTER 02

  CHAPTER 03

  CHAPTER 04

  CHAPTER 05

  CHAPTER 06

  CHAPTER 07

  CHAPTER 08

  CHAPTER 09

  CHAPTER 10

  CHAPTER 11

  CHAPTER 12

  CHAPTER 13

  CHAPTER 14

  CHAPTER 15

  CHAPTER 16

  CHAPTER 17

  CHAPTER 18

  CHAPTER 19

  CHAPTER 20

  CHAPTER 21

  CHAPTER 22

  CHAPTER 23

  CHAPTER 24

  CHAPTER 25

  CHAPTER 26

  CHAPTER 27

  CHAPTER 28

  CHAPTER 29

  CHAPTER

  01

  ‘And Gus Delfino drives the ball from mid-court in to a fifteen footer. He steps in and floats it up … and he’s got it! It’s all net! The crowd goes berserk!’

  I grin as I commentate. I dribble the ball behind my back and through my legs – changing hands, left to right, practising my skills. I look up at the ring and pop up a simple shot from the free-throw line.

  ‘And Delfino is on fire today, folks! No wonder his team has made it to the finals for the first time in years. And he doubles back and lets go … and it’s in! This kid is an all-out champion! The crowd loses it!’

  Okay, maybe I’m not actually an all-out champion, but I am pretty good. Basketball is the greatest game in the world. I can’t get enough of it. And that bit about my team making it to the finals … well, that bit is true.

  Just this week the Pennsbury High Panthers made it into the Under-15s district playoffs for only the second time in my school’s entire history. The first time was decades ago, way before I was even born.

  So now I’m trying to get in as much practice as I can. My best friends Bobby Jackson and Charlie Swinton are in the team too and we’ve been practising every afternoon on this outdoor court at the end of my street.

  ‘Delfino makes the steal from Jackson and passes it off to Swinton who flicks it back to Delfino … and look at him go! Lightning quick!’

  I dribble the ball directly in front of me, and edge backwards into Bobby – really getting in his space. He’s desperately reaching around to snatch the ball off me. He’s way taller than me, but I’m quicker. When he’s least expecting it, I tunnel the ball right through the middle of our legs. In a flash, I pivot and run completely around him to swipe up the ball again and make a shot.

  ‘He’s on a mission in transmission …’ I yell. ‘Oh, no! Jackson is caught off-guard as Delfino executes his signature move. He’s free … He lets loose … The buzzer sounds and Delfino wins the game!’

  ‘Damn you and your signature move,’ mutters Bobby, half-smiling.

  I grin at Charlie – he gives me a high five. I came up with the move last season. I call it the Gus-aroony. Yeah, lame name, I know, but it’s stuck. It’s kind of random – but it gets them every time. It took me ages to perfect it.

  ‘Seriously dude,’ complains Bobby. ‘Why do you always practise that move on me? You never use it in the comp. You definitely have to pull the Gus-aroony out during this series.’

  ‘Sure, if the moment’s right,’ I say. ‘But all we’ve gotta do in the finals is stay focused like we have all season.’

  Bobby is one of the tallest players in our team and he’s also the captain. He would never admit it, but he’s sort of like a big brother to me and Charlie. It’s nice to know I have a mate like Bobby who’s always got my back.

  ‘Yeah!’ adds Charlie, all wide-eyed and over-excited as always. ‘You know what they say – winners never quit and quitters never win!’

  I roll my eyes. Last Christmas one of Charlie’s presents was a jumbo pack of toilet paper rolls with quotes printed on them.

  ‘Who said that?’ asks Bobby.

  ‘Anonymous.’ Charlie shrugs. ‘Hey! I’ve gotta go – gotta be home for dinner.’

  ‘Yeah, I’m gonna split too,’ says Bobby.

  ‘C’mon, not yet!’ I call out to them, even though we’ve been playing for two hours straight. ‘Just ten more minutes?’

  But my friends are already making a move. ‘Later, Gus!’ they yell back in unison.

  Fine. I’ll practise on my own then. I throw up a couple of simple shots.

  ‘And Delfino once again shows why he’s the most passionate player in the league. He shoots and sinks it… and he wins it for Pennsbury High! RARRR!’

  There’s a slow, loud clapping from directly behind me.

  Oh man! It’s Corey Barnes. That’s all I need. An A-grade bully. A-grade jerk. A-grade trouble. And also an A-grade hoops player. His team, the Winston High Hornets, have made it to our district finals. No surprise there, really: they’ve been the reigning champs for the past two years. They’ve also crushed us every time we’ve played them.

  But it’s worse than that. Corey hasn’t come alone. He’s flanked by two of his meathead friends. And they’re marching directly for me like a pack of wolves ready to attack.

  I try to act cool and not look too worried, even though I am.

  Corey is humongous! He’s even taller than Bobby. He’s fourteen, but he looks like a hairy thirty-year-old Olympian shot-putter. He’s an absolute beast. And standing at a solid six foot, his favourite pastime, besides basketball, is picking fights for no reason at all.

  ‘Ooooh, Delfino wins it for Pennsbury!’ he mocks. Yeah, in your dreams, loser.’

  Corey steps up to me and snatches the ball out of my hands.

  ‘Hey!’ I call out, sounding lame.

  Corey starts dribbling the ball.

  ‘Give it back!’ I say in my deepest I’m-not-afraid-of-you voice.

  ‘Did you hear that, boys?’ Corey sniggers, now dribbling the ball back and forth through his legs. ‘Pennsbury’s champ wants us to give his ball back …’

  ‘Don’t be dumb,’ I mumble under my breath.

  Corey stops dribbling. He steps in way too close so I’m staring directly at his chest. I slowly look up.

  ‘What did you call me?’ he hisses. ‘Did you just call me dumb?’

  Okay… I wasn’t expecting to have my head crushed today. And now, as Corey’s mates step in beside him, I better think of something quick to get me out of this.

  ‘I said, one-on-one, not dumb,’ I say. ‘You misheard me! One-on-one. You and me, right now. Or are you too chicken? Think I might show you up in front of your mates?’

  Corey grins and thumps the ball back into my chest.

  ‘You’re on!’ he says. ‘First one to eleven points. One point per basket – winners out. You can start.’

  I let out a huge breath, relieved that for now I’ve managed to distract Corey and his friends from punching the living daylights out of me. For now.

  I start to dribble the ball. Right. This is it. Game on.

  CHAPTER

  02

  I dribble back. Corey follows me, his hands spread out in a classic defensive stance. He’s playing it cool, swaying from side to side. He might be taller than me, but I know I’m quicker. I’ll have to be to get around him. I jab step. He lunges and blocks my drive for the net. I step back, still dribbling. I jab step again. Corey expe
cts me to rush for the net so he edges backwards. Great – I have some space. I quickly make a jump shot, catching Corey off guard. The ball floats over his head and … swish!

  ‘Yes!’ I say, clenching my fist.

  Corey swears. His friends laugh, but stop suddenly when Corey shoots them a dirty look.

  I still have possession of the ball and take it back to the half-court line. I dribble in. Corey moves forward and hovers around the top of the key. I drive the ball in and he rushes for me. This time I decide to fake a jump shot, but Corey reads me beautifully and taps the ball out of my hands. He shoulders me out of the way and gets to the ball first.

  ‘Huh!’ he grunts. ‘In yer face, loser!’

  Now it’s my turn to go on the defence. I try to stick to Corey like superglue, shadowing his every move. I take a number of swipes at the ball, but he keeps muscling me out. He pushes me back with his left hand and continues to dribble with his right. This doesn’t look good.

  I slap away the hand he’s been pressing up against my chest, but it’s too late. Corey lets an awesome hook shot fly. I watch the ball arc over my head, bounce off the backboard, and drop in through the net.

  ‘Take that, ya jerk!’ Corey gloats, his mates cheering him on.

  For the next fifteen minutes, Corey and I battle it out as if our lives depend on it. Um, actually my life probably does depend on it. The score’s tied: 10 – 10. Next basket wins. I have possession of the ball and Corey is desperate. He won’t let me move or find any space. I think about pulling out the Gus-aroony, but I can’t risk it. It’s too close to attempt any sort of trick.

  The pressure is intense. Sweat’s now pouring off our faces. I fake a drive, only to be blocked. I twist and turn and twist again. There’s no way I can pass him. I edge way back to the three-point line… but Corey doesn’t follow. I know what he’s doing. He wants me to take a shot. He knows I’m spent and my chances of making this basket are slim. If I miss, he’ll be there to rebound first, make the easy point and win the game.

  Whatever the result, he’s going to kick my butt. But losing’s not an option. It’s my reputation on the line. Suddenly an idea dawns on me – it’s completely brilliant.

  I dribble on the spot as Corey and I catch our breath. And then … I bolt. Yep. I sprint as fast as I can away from Corey and his friends. I’m running like I’ve never run before.

  ‘Hey!’ I hear Corey cry out after me.

  I charge out of the fence-enclosed court and head in the direction of my house.

  ‘Get him!’ Corey shouts.

  I don’t look back. I don’t need to. I know that Corey and his goons are after me. The chase is on.

  CHAPTER

  03

  My lungs are burning. My heart feels as if it’s in my mouth. My legs are moving as fast as they can, but it’s hard to sprint at top speed with a basketball in your hands. I can hear Corey and his mates gaining on me, their panting is echoing louder by the second.

  Now I can see my house. It’s only about 50 metres away. I grit my teeth and try to pick up the pace. Yes! I’m going to make it … Yes, I can do this… What the?!

  Corey’s giant hand grabs me by the scruff of the neck and yanks me to the ground. Before I know it, he’s sitting on my chest and his mates are holding my legs down.

  ‘Did you really think you could get away, loser?’ he spits. ‘Were ya scared I was gonna win?’

  ‘Nah,’ I croak, finding it hard to breathe. ‘Not a chance. Even my little sister could beat you in a one-on-one.’

  Talk about a death wish. That’s probably not the best thing to say when you’ve got a 200-pound meathead sitting on top of you. Corey looks like he’s about to rearrange my face with his clenched knuckles.

  ‘You are so going to regret you said that,’ he growls, raising his fist.

  I close my eyes. Make this quick.

  ‘HEY! YOU GUYS! Leave him alone or I’ll sic my dog on you.’

  I open my eyes to see Corey and his friends looking at my neighbour, Annie Goodall, and her part-golden retriever, part-German Shepherd, part-pound-rescued-mongrel, Macy.

  Annie points at Corey and his friends, and Macy starts pulling at her leash, barking at them.

  ‘I’m serious,’ Annie says firmly. ‘You better get off him or my dog will have you for dinner.’

  Annie lets out Macy’s leash. The goons flinch.

  ‘Screw this,’ one of them says. ‘I’m outta here.’

  ‘Me too,’ says the other one.

  Macy only barks louder and lunges at Corey. Annie tugs her back. Corey reluctantly gets off me. ‘I won’t forget this, loser,’ he hisses.

  ‘Whatever!’ I say, relieved I can breathe again.

  Corey jogs away after his friends. As I get up, Annie lets Macy off the leash and she rushes over to me. Her tail is wagging a million miles an hour and she’s licking her sloppy canine tongue all over me.

  ‘Thanks,’ I say to Annie. ‘And thanks to you, too, Macy.’ I give Macy a big pat and a scratch behind her ears.

  ‘Um, what was that about?’ asks Annie.

  ‘Nothing.’ I shrug.

  ‘It didn’t look like nothing.’

  ‘Yeah, well, it’s nothing that I couldn’t have handled,’ I say. Now that the relief is wearing off, I’m starting to feel a bit embarrassed that I’ve been rescued by a girl, especially since she’s younger than me. ‘I’ll see ya later,’ I say, backing away towards my house.

  ‘Um, okay,’ she says, sounding a bit disappointed. ‘Oh, Gus,’ she calls out after me. ‘Guess which band is touring?’

  I shrug.

  ‘No, come on, guess!’

  I don’t want to guess. I shrug again.

  ‘Dante’s Page!’ she says.

  ‘Dante’s Page? Are you serious? That’s awesome!’ I suddenly realise how excited I sound. I pull back. ‘Um, yeah, cool, whatever.’

  ‘Well, you’re going to go, aren’t you?’ Annie asks. ‘You seriously have to go. They’ve been your favourite band for as long as I can remember.’

  ‘Yeah, I might.’

  That’s sort of a lie. I’m definitely going, but I don’t want to admit that to Annie. She might want us to go together. Even though we used to hang out a lot last year, now that we’re older, it’s different. I mean, I’m in Year 9 and she’s in Year 8 … and, well, we just mix in different circles.

  ‘You might?’ she says, like she’s talking to a crazy person. ‘What are you talking about? You’re obsessed with them. You learned to play the guitar just so you could play ‘Dust to Dust’. When you played it at my birthday, all my friends thought you were the coolest. You know, I kinda think of it as our song …’

  What’s she talking about? We’d have to be going out to have a song. ‘Yeah, look, I’ve gotta go,’ I say. ‘I’ve got a stack of homework to do. Catch ya later.’ I turn quickly and head across the front lawn of my house.

  ‘Hey!’ Annie calls out to me. ‘Go Pennsbury! You think you can go all the way and win the championships?’

  ‘Yeah, I think we can,’ I shout back without looking.

  Well, I hope we can.

  CHAPTER

  04

  The next morning I’m in bed coming out of a deep sleep. I’m somewhere between dreaming and waking up when I hear:

  ‘Don’t worry, Mrs Delfino – we’ll wake him up.’

  ‘Yeah, leave it to us.’

  Before I have time to fully figure out what’s going on, my bedroom door swings open … and WHAM!

  ‘AWWWW!’ I cry, doubling over in pain. Now I’m definitely awake.

  Bobby and Charlie laugh. They’ve jumped on me. It’s a low blow, if you know what I mean. I howl in pain and shove them off.

  Charlie snorts with laughter.

  ‘Does little Gus-aroony wanna sleep in? Because we have some massive news,’ stirs Bobby, getting me in a headlock.

  ‘Yeah, you’re not gonna believe this,’ adds Charlie.

  I wrestle myself free from B
obby’s headlock and sit up.

  ‘Fine! I’m up!’ I say, rubbing my eyes. What’s going on? What’s the massive news?’

  ‘Guess which band just posted on their site that they’re touring?’ says Bobby, as if he made it happen.

  ‘Dante’s Page,’ I say.

  ‘How do you know already?’ groans Charlie, picking up my electric guitar from its stand in the corner of the room.

  I shrug. ‘My neighbour told me,’ I say, jumping out of bed and grabbing it off him.

  I love my guitar. I love playing it almost as much as I love basketball. I pluck the first few chords of ‘Dust to Dust’. Annie’s right – I do love that song.

  I can hear the phone ringing downstairs and my mum’s voice as she answers it.

  ‘We HAVE to get tickets,’ says Bobby.

  Charlie nods. ‘I don’t care how long I have to queue to get them,’ he says.

  I can hear my mother’s voice, coming up the stairs – she’s still on the phone. I can hear her saying goodbye to someone. There’s a knock at the door. ‘Gus,’ she says. ‘Gus?’

  I put down my guitar.

  My mum brushes her messy blonde hair out of her eyes. Her face looks red and stressed. She doesn’t look happy. I can tell something’s up.

  ‘It’s about Coach Anderson,’ she says. ‘I’m so sorry, boys. It’s not good news…’ She sits down on the side of the bed. ‘The school just called. Coach Anderson passed away last night.’

  Charlie, Bobby and I just look at each other. This can’t be happening!

  Heart attack. Massive. That’s what Mum told us. No warning. Not a single sign. At the age of forty-eight, Mr Scott Anderson, our beloved coach, is dead.

  He was my all-time favourite teacher and the best basketball coach ever – always smiling, always encouraging, always positive … yep, an awesome guy.

  And now my friends and I are on our bikes riding to his house.

  ‘Did you text Will and Elliot?’ I ask Charlie.

  Charlie nods.

  ‘Bobby did you get hold of Ryan and Dwayne?’

  ‘Yeah, Dwayne said he’ll meet us there. Haven’t heard back from Ryan yet. Gus, why’re we doing this?’ asks Bobby, swerving in front of me, almost clipping my front wheel.