Belly Flop by Morris Gleitzman Page A

bowl so I could tell he was interested.
    â€˜If the bank’s sponsoring me and I’m gunna be getting them top publicity all over the world,’ I said, ‘they’re not gunna sack you, are they? Plus if I offer to put their logo on my swimmers I reckon they’ll be nicer to the folks round here.’
    â€˜Brilliant,’ said Gran.
    Dad didn’t say anything.
    Mum put her hand gently on my arm.
    â€˜What if you don’t win the diving, love?’ she said.
    I didn’t want to mention your name, Doug, and get Dad ropeable again.
    So I just tried to look very confident.
    â€˜I can do it,‘ I said. ‘I know I can.’
    â€˜He’ll have a punt,’ said Gran. ‘You can’t ask more than that.’
    Mum didn’t look convinced.
    Dad didn’t say anything.
    My insides sagged.
    Then Mum put her hand on Dad’s arm.
    â€˜Wouldn’t hurt, Noel, would it?’ she said. ‘If Mr Grimmond sees what a top little community we’ve got here, he might be easier on all of us.’
    Dad thought about it.
    â€˜Worth a punt,’ he said.
    Gran nearly choked on her tea.
    I’ve just done a few practice dives off the wardrobe and I haven’t lost the knack, Doug.
    So I won’t need to bother you again till I’m up on the diving board tomorrow.

 
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    This is gunna be the best day of my whole life, I just know it, Doug.
    It is so far, and I’ve only been awake four seconds.
    When I opened my eyes, the first thing I spotted was Grandad’s medal on my pillow.
    I stared at the gleaming metal diver soaring over the writing and my insides soared too.
    Then I glanced out the window.
    I don’t reckon I’d have known for sure what I was seeing if Dad hadn’t been yelling in the front yard.
    â€˜Clouds! Clouds!’
    I’m dragging on my swimmers and rushing outside.
    Jeez, there’s lots of them.
    Ten, fifteen, twenty at least.
    They’re huge.
    One of them’s covering the sun.
    There’s one that looks like Gran blowing smoke out of her ear.
    Doug, you’re a genius.
    Everyone’s out in the street in their pyjamas, pointing and shouting.
    And arguing.
    Daryl the postie’s telling Gran clouds don’t mean anything, there were clouds here six years ago and they were dry as a wombat’s washer.
    Gran’s telling him not to be such a misery.
    I reckon she knows, Doug.
    Even though she has spells when she loses her grip, I reckon she knows you’re on the job and you’re gunna crack it.
    She’s offering to lend Daryl her umbrella.
    Daryl’s getting so worked up he’s not even paying attention to his job.
    He’s just lobbed a letter into our postbox and missed and now it’s blowing across the front yard.
    I’d better grab it.
    I hope this isn’t gunna be the worst day of my whole life.
    It was going great until a minute ago.
    Everyone in town’s come to the swimming carnival.
    I know that’s probably so they could get out of work and stare up at the clouds, but at least they’re here.
    Most important of all, Mr Grimmond’s here with Mum and Dad and Gran.
    That’s him down there in the suit and tie telling Gran he doesn’t want a chocolate crackle.
    Nobody’s staring up at the clouds now, but.
    They’re staring up at me.
    And pointing and yelling and carrying on.
    They’ve been doing it ever since Ms Dorrit announced the diving would be first and I jumped up and sprinted for the diving board.
    I didn’t wait for her to explain that the diving would have to be off the side because the water’s too shallow to use the high board.
    I jumped on the ladder and started climbing up before anyone could stop me.
    I was gunna wait till I reached the board before I gave you a hoi to watch out for me, Doug. You know, so I could dive without hitting the bottom and having my brains leak out into the pool.
    I’m not there