Belly Flop Read Online Free PDF

paperwork.’
    There was a snigger from the doorway.
    We all turned.
    Gavin Sims was standing there smirking.
    Ms Dorrit told him to wait outside.
    Then she turned back to me.
    â€˜Alright Mitch Webber,’ she said in her death voice, ‘enough of this nonsense. For wasting our time you can stand here, outside my office, silently, for the rest of lunch.’
    I know I’m a dope, Doug, but for a fleeting second I panicked.
    The awful thought hit me that perhaps you’d had to dash off somewhere so fast you hadn’t had time to come up with anything to protect me after all.
    Mrs Stegnjaaic gave me a sympathetic look and went back to her typing.
    Then I saw Troy and Brent Malley staring at me through the window, their faces bulging with frustration.
    Which turned to fear when Ms Dorrit went out and yelled at them and sent them away from the window.
    That’s when I realised I’m not being looked after by just any old angel, I’m being looked after by the top angel in the whole world, possibly the universe.
    Getting me kept in for the whole of lunch is one of the best things anyone’s ever done for me.
    Thanks, Doug.
    Class has only just started after lunch and Mr Tristos has yelled at me already.
    For daydreaming.
    He was wrong.
    I wasn’t daydreaming.
    I was coming up with another plan.
    Doug, when you’re keeping an eye on Dad at the Malleys’ place this arvo, don’t worry about Troy and Brent bashing me up.
    I want them to.
    It’s OK, I haven’t gone mental.
    I reckon the kids at this school aren’t as mean as they make out.
    I reckon underneath they’ve got pretty good hearts.
    And when they see Troy and Brent pounding me into dingo bait, I reckon they’re gunna feel pretty sorry for me and realise this drought’s tough on me and my family too.
    OK, perhaps not dingo bait exactly.
    Perhaps just a few cuts and bruises, Doug, and possibly a black eye as long as there’s no loss of vision.

 
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    There’s a frog that can live under the ground for nine years without coming up once to stretch its legs or have a pee.
    We’re doing it in class now.
    When a drought starts it burrows down into the desert and stays there till things improve.
    I wish I could do the same, Doug.
    Not cause I’m scared.
    Cause I’m ashamed.
    Ashamed of my class and my teacher.
    I reckon Mr Tristos must have damaged his hearing at the staff karaoke night.
    When twenty-seven kids spend a whole afternoon making rude and insulting jokes about a person’s guardian angel and the teacher doesn’t hear any of them, that teacher should be thinking about major ear surgery.
    Please accept my apologies, Doug, for my very rude class and a teacher who’s obviously scared of doctors.
    I know who told everyone.
    Gavin Sims.
    I reckon that’s crook, eavesdropping on a private conversation between a person and a principal and then blabbing about it.
    I‘m turning round now and giving him the look you give ex-friends who’ve betrayed you.
    He’s smirking, but I bet he’s tortured with guilt inside.
    The other kids are still whispering and laughing.
    I’m going to ignore them.
    And I will, just as soon as Matthew Conn stops singing that dumb song about fairies.
    This is only a thought, Doug, because you’re the expert, but I reckon he’d shut up pretty quick if he found he’d accidentally stapled his tongue to the desk.
    OK Doug, I know I shouldn’t have had that thought about Matthew Conn’s tongue.
    It was too cruel, plus he doesn’t have a stapler.
    I’m glad you didn’t do anything to him, or any of the others.
    That means you’re ignoring them just like I am.
    Which is what they deserve.
    It’d be tragic if their mean and vicious behaviour distracted you from doing any medical miracles or freeing any kids from terrorists’ hideouts.
    Or protecting Dad in a few