Academy Smash Read online

  About the Book

  Billy loves to bowl – fast! He’s also a massive Melbourne Stars fan and when his friend Wen-Lee tells him about a cricket academy camp, run by none other than the Stars, Billy is desperate to go. So is Wen-Lee, even if she does barrack for the Brisbane Heat.

  Trouble is, the applications are about to close and Billy needs to find a way to raise money for the entry fee. Perhaps a speed-bowling competition is in order!

  CONTENTS

  COVER

  ABOUT THE BOOK

  TITLE PAGE

  DEDICATION

  CHAPTER 1: ROTTEN FRUIT

  CHAPTER 2: THE BROCHURE

  CHAPTER 3: LAUGHING CLOWNS

  CHAPTER 4: BILLY’S IDEA

  CHAPTER 5: BILLY GETS ORGANISED

  CHAPTER 6: OLGA LENDS A HAND

  CHAPTER 7: THE BOWLING COMPETITION

  CHAPTER 8: GIORGIO MAKES A CALL

  CHAPTER 9: THE SURPRISE

  CHAPTER 10: BILLY’S GIFT

  CHAPTER 11: BILLY DELIVERS

  BBL | 06 STATS

  WBBL | 02 STATS

  COLLECT THE SERIES

  COPYRIGHT NOTICE

  In loving memory of Bill Panckridge. This wonderful game called cricket meant so much to him.

  Friday morning

  SPLAT!

  ‘Billy!’

  ‘Coming, Giorgio,’ Billy called, tossing a partly rotten apple from hand to hand. Billy was a tall, lean boy with curly hair and a big, toothy grin.

  ‘Ever bowled with a real cricket ball?’ sniggered a short boy with spiky hair.

  Billy hadn’t noticed the three kids staring at him. They were all dressed in cricket whites. Billy eyed the shiny red cricket ball that the spiky-haired boy was spinning through the air.

  The girl with a ponytail standing next to him smiled. ‘You should join a real cricket club. You get to play on real pitches and in real nets,’ she said.

  ‘Yeah, instead of bowling bits of fruit at a wooden crate,’ the third boy said.

  The three kids stared at the old crate Billy was bowling at, stained with the juice and pulp of his previous deliveries.

  ‘He’s probably not very good!’ the first boy said with a sneer.

  ‘You guys want a bowl?’ Billy asked. Maybe they wouldn’t be so mean to him if he got them playing some cricket.

  ‘What, with bits of fruit?’ the girl scoffed. ‘No, we’ll be right, thanks. Why don’t you show us your bowling?’

  ‘Yeah,’ the boy with dark, curly hair said. ‘Good idea, Gem. Go on.’

  Billy suddenly felt uncomfortable. He didn’t like the way they were half-smiling at him. ‘Nah,’ he said. ‘Too much work to do.’

  The first boy kicked an apple that Billy had set aside to use. ‘C’mon, let’s go,’ he said to his mates. ‘We’ve got a real game of cricket to prepare for.’

  Billy waited till the three kids had disappeared back inside the market. Shrugging, he put the encounter out of his mind. He didn’t really get why they had teased him. He hadn’t seen them before, and he probably would never see them again.

  Stealing a quick glance at Giorgio, who was bent over a crate of mangoes, Billy jogged back to the top of his run-up, then charged in to bowl one last cracker of a delivery.

  As he leaned back, Billy went even lower than usual, trying to exert as much force as possible into this final effort. It was going to be the fastest rotten apple he had ever delivered – make that anyone, anywhere in the world had ever delivered.

  Where were the Guinness World Records people when you really needed them? he thought to himself, racing up to his bowling mark (two grubby lemons lying on either side of the narrow laneway between the market tables).

  The apple hurtled out of his hand, travelling so fast Billy barely noticed it whizzing through the air as he tried to regain his balance. But there was no sound of fruit hitting crate. He’d missed by almost half a metre!

  ‘Hey!’ someone called as the runaway apple bounded along the concrete between the trestle tables.

  ‘BI–LLYY!’ came another shout as it continued its journey, past the cheese stall, bits of apple flying everywhere, before it thudded into Granny Romana’s oversized black gumboots.

  ‘BILLY!’ Giorgio roared, waving his arms hysterically.

  ‘I need a wider crate, Giorgio,’ Billy sighed, giving Granny Romana an apologetic wave. He could hear her garbled shouts from where she stood at her evil-smelling fish stall.

  ‘Billy boy, I think you need a new job,’ Giorgio cried, shaking his head. ‘My fruit!’

  ‘I only take the rotten ones, Giorgio. You said that was okay.’

  Giorgio wiped his hands on his apron. ‘Yes, it’s true, but, it’s a worry, hmm? My fruit being thrown all over the market.’

  ‘But it’s rotten fruit,’ Billy protested.

  ‘It’s not a good a look for the business, Billy.’

  Billy smiled. ‘Sorry, Giorgio. I’ll swap the pitch around, okay? I’ll bowl towards the wall over there.’ He pointed at the brick wall to the rear of Giorgio’s fruit and veggie stall.

  ‘And so now my fruit gets splashed and smashed all over the wall instead?’

  ‘Exactly.’ Billy grinned. ‘It’ll be like fruity graffiti.’

  Giorgio rolled his eyes. ‘Why aren’t you like the other boys, hmm? What about football?’

  ‘Yeah, that could work.’ Billy picked up a huge watermelon and struggled to toss it in the air.

  ‘Then again, maybe not,’ Giorgio said, snatching the watermelon back.

  ‘One day I’m going to be the fastest bowler in Australia. Maybe the fastest bowler in the whole world,’ Billy said wistfully.

  ‘Fastest, fastest, fastest, eh? It’s all you young ones care about,’ Giorgio sighed.

  ‘Well, of course. What else is there?’ Billy asked, picking up a nectarine.

  ‘Billy, not the nectarine,’ Giorgio said, wagging a finger at him.

  ‘Course not,’ Billy mumbled, taking a big bite out of it. ‘Delicious,’ he added, its sweet juices dripping from his mouth.

  Billy had been working at Northstage Market for almost six weeks now, before and after school. He didn’t get paid much, but Billy didn’t mind. He enjoyed the free fruit and helping Giorgio with the packing and unpacking. And in the quiet of the early morning, before the shoppers appeared, Billy loved nothing more than to grab a rotten piece of fruit and bowl it full pelt at a small up-ended wooden crate.

  Billy worked hard for almost an hour, unpacking bunches of grapes, pineapples, bananas and mandarins.

  ‘No,’ Giorgio said, eyeing Billy warily as he watched the boy tossing a mandarin to himself.

  ‘No,’ Billy agreed, stacking it on top of the other mandarins. ‘It feels sort of squishy and hollow inside.’ He glanced at his watch. ‘Whoa, I gotta go, Giorgio.’ He grabbed his bag from beneath one of the trestle tables and hefted it over his shoulder.

  ‘You want some fruit for your friends at school?’ Giorgio asked, glancing up from serving a customer.

  ‘Got some,’ Billy shouted over his shoulder, racing towards the tram stop. ‘See you tonight!’ he added.

  Every Friday afternoon, some of the workers from the market played a game of cricket to celebrate the end of the week. There were a couple of other kids who often joined in too, which made it even more fun. There were usually just enough players to make two teams. The rules were random, made up there and then, but it was Billy’s favourite time of the week.

  For Billy, Friday at school always went slowly. Yes, he played cricket with his friends at recess and lunch, like he did every day, but it was the market match that he really loved.

  Friday afternoon

  ‘Am I okay to play?’ Billy shouted, plonking
his bag down and racing over to the group.

  ‘Billy, my friend, we were just about to go ahead without you,’ Kev, the butcher said, still wearing his blood-stained white coat. ‘Your team is batting.’

  ‘Awesome.’ Billy grinned, heading over to join the rest of the players.

  ‘You’re in at number six,’ said Janine, who worked at the candles and oils stall. She preferred to organise the teams and score the matches rather than play.

  Billy settled in to watch the Karuzo brothers get the innings going.

  The scoring system was a little complicated, but Billy knew exactly where and how runs were scored. The playing area was a big courtyard surrounded by stalls and trestle tables. You got two runs for any shot that went under a trestle table, four runs if you hit the legs of a table on the bounce, and six runs if you hit the legs on the full. It was also a six if you could hit the canvas awning, which served as the roof of the market. Although that shot was risky – if a fielder caught the ball before it hit the ground, the batter was out.

  All the other normal rules of cricket applied: you could be bowled, caught, run out and even stumped. Wheelie bins were used for the wickets, which meant there were plenty of players getting bowled or run out.

  If a batter reached 20 runs, he or she had to retire, but there was always a chance of returning to the batting crease if there was still time. Janine monitored the players’ totals and the team scores closely, using her phone to count down 40 minutes for each team.

  Billy loved to smash the ball into the canvas overhead. He could belt the ball as hard as he liked. It was pretty rare to get caught out from the rebound. The market players were not like BBL or WBBL players, who took amazing catches. Watching catches was one of Billy’s favourite things about seeing the WBBL and BBL on TV; unless, of course, it was a Melbourne Stars player who’d hit the ball in the first place.

  ‘No!’ Jack Karuzo bellowed at his brother, holding up a huge arm. Even though they both worked at the flower stall, they were very different in appearance. While Jack was big and broad, Jim was lean and wiry.

  ‘Hey Billy, look what I found near the entrance,’ Wen-Lee said, sitting down next to him.

  ‘What?’ Billy tore his eyes away from the game to look at his friend.

  Much smaller than Billy, Wen-Lee had short, straight black hair and a cheeky, almost mischievous grin always planted on her face. Though she was tiny, Wen-Lee was lightning-fast with the quickest reflexes Billy had ever seen. Her family had moved to Melbourne from Brisbane three months ago. She still barracked for the Brisbane Heat, but was starting to develop a soft spot for the Melbourne Stars – especially Glenn Maxwell. Wen-Lee’s mum ran the hot jam donut stall. It was very popular. Like Billy, Wen-Lee helped out before and after school. It was her birthday in a few days and he was looking forward to celebrating it with her.

  Wen-Lee held up a piece of paper in front of Billy’s face then snatched it away quickly when Billy reached for it.

  ‘Hey!’

  ‘Hey, what?’ Wen-Lee teased, hiding the piece of paper behind her.

  Billy shrugged and turned his attention back to the game, just in time to see Jack Karuzo get run out. Billy always had mixed feelings when a player on his team lost a wicket. On one hand, it wasn’t good for the team; on the other, it meant that he was closer to batting. You didn’t get a bat every week, but Janine was very good at mixing up the order.

  ‘Well?’ Wen-Lee said.

  ‘Well, what?’ Billy replied as he watched Olga, who owned a stall full of weird junk and old electronics, get clean-bowled for a golden duck. He felt the familiar tingle of nerves. One more wicket and he was in.

  ‘I’ll tell you what. You make 20 today and I’ll let you have this,’ Wen-Lee said, folding the sheet and sliding it into the pocket of her shorts.

  ‘I don’t want your piece of paper,’ Billy said.

  ‘Oh, yes, you do, Billy Hunter,’ Wen-Lee said. ‘Yes, you do.’

  There was another shout from the playing area. Tamsyn, from the sweets and lolly stall, stood for a moment looking slightly bewildered, then slowly made her way back to where her teammates sat.

  ‘C’mon, Billy boy, time for you to show us your batting skills!’ Roger, their captain for today’s game said, slapping him on the back.

  ‘Remember, 20 runs and you get the magical piece of paper.’ Wen-Lee grinned, giving Billy the thumbs-up sign.

  ‘I’ve never made a 20 before,’ Billy said, taking the bat from Tamsyn and striding out to the green wheelie bin. It looked even bigger now that he was standing in front of it.

  ‘First time for everything,’ Wen-Lee said, giving Billy a wink.

  Billy didn’t even see the ball bowled to him. It thudded into the base of the wheelie bin. For a horrible moment he realised he’d been part of a hat-trick – three wickets in three consecutive deliveries. But the bowler’s shouts of excitement soon turned to groans of despair when he noticed the umpire, Giorgio, had his arm outstretched, signalling a no ball.

  ‘Giorgio, are you sure about that?’ Marcus, who owned the watches and phone cases stall, asked. He stared at the bowling crease, which was marked out by red cherries.

  ‘Oh, yes.’ Giorgio grinned, pointing to the spot where Marcus’ foot had landed. ‘See? Way past the little cherries.’ He wagged a finger at Marcus. ‘Naughty Marcus,’ he said cheekily. Everyone laughed and even Marcus had to smile.

  Billy survived the last two balls – just. Marcus was a crafty old bowler. His gentle, three-step run-up made you think it was going to be a slow delivery, but the ball always fizzed through and often spun off the pitch, making it very hard to hit. It made Billy think of a snake, hissing and spitting as the ball shot up after hitting the ground.

  Now that Marcus had bowled his two overs, the batting became a bit easier. With a mixture of luck, including a dropped catch, a missed stumping and a couple of lusty blows, Billy managed to get his score to 17 over the next few overs as wickets continued to fall at the other end.

  ‘Four to go,’ Wen-Lee called out, waving the piece of paper in her hand.

  Billy belted the next delivery past the bowler and into the legs of the trestle table behind him. It rebounded at right angles towards the second-hand book stall.

  ‘Yes!’ Billy cried, charging off for a run. ‘Yes!’ he called again, as two fielders dived under a table. ‘One more!’ he shouted, scampering to the bowler’s end as the ball flew back in from the boxes of books.

  ‘Plus seven, young Billy. That’ll do you,’ Janine called, making a note on her scoresheet.

  Players from both sides clapped Billy on the back as he left the playing area. It was a tradition that everyone clapped if a batter scored 20 runs.

  ‘Way to go, Billy,’ Wen-Lee said, holding out a clenched fist. Billy tapped it with his own. ‘Here you go, then.’ She held out the piece of paper to him. ‘I mean, it would have been better had it been Chris Lynn or Joe Burns or Beth Mooney or any other Brisbane Heat legend –’

  ‘What are you yapping on about?’ Billy asked, taking the paper from her and quickly scanning the words on the page.

  ‘Oh, wow,’ he sighed, a smile slowly forming. It was a brochure about a cricket camp the Melbourne Stars were running.

  ‘Did you know about this?’ Wen-Lee asked.

  ‘No, maybe it just came out,’ Billy replied, turning the page over.

  Billy prided himself on keeping up to date with everything that was happening with the Melbourne Stars. He went online regularly to catch up on their news, and knew everything you could possibly want to know about each of the players. He hadn’t visited the team website since Wednesday, though, so maybe this news was very recent …

  Wen-Lee shrugged. ‘Like I said, I thought you’d be interested. I’d give anything to go. Especially if Glenn Maxwell was there.’

  ‘Interested? This is awesome! It’s what I’ve been waiting for all my life!’ Billy’s eyes were almost as wide as the grin on his face.

 
; ‘Well, that’s great,’ Wen-Lee said. ‘There is just one small issue.’

  But Billy wasn’t listening. He started reading aloud.

  ‘The Melbourne Stars invite young cricketers to attend a two-day cricket academy. Meet famous Melbourne Stars players from the BBL and WBBL competitions, experience quality coaching and train in first-class facilities. Plus, a team will be chosen to play a representative side from Queensland in a curtain-raiser at the MCG.’

  ‘Billy?’ Wen-Lee said.

  ‘Did you hear that?’ Billy gasped. ‘At the MCG.’

  ‘Yes, but –’

  ‘And I’ll get to meet David Hussey and Luke Wright and, oh geez, Meg Lanning and Katie Mack. I’ll probably meet the whole team! And Ben Hilfenhaus will check out my bowling and give me some tips. I might even –’

  ‘Read the back, Billy!’ Wen-Lee pointed to a couple of paragraphs beneath the words ‘Terms and Conditions’.

  ‘Applicants must be between the ages of eight and 12. No worries there,’ Billy said.

  Wen-Lee sighed, rolling her eyes. ‘Keep reading.’

  ‘A fee of three hundred and fifty dollars will cover all costs, including meals. Oh.’ Billy paused. ‘Three hundred and fifty dollars,’ he groaned, then whistled softly. It was a slap in the face. But a moment later, his face brightened again. Billy was like that – quick to feel gloomy but even quicker bouncing out of it. ‘Hang on, I can earn that.’

  ‘Billy, applications close in three days. Look.’ Wen-Lee pointed again to the sentence at the bottom of the page. ‘Hurry to secure your spot, as places are limited,’ she read. ‘How on earth will you get three hundred and fifty dollars in three days?’

  Billy’s shoulders slumped. ‘Then what hope have I got?’ he cried. ‘My parents don’t even like cricket, especially my dad. I only earn fifteen dollars a week working for Giorgio, and they’ve probably had a thousand kids apply already.’