Belly Flop by Morris Gleitzman Read Free Book Online Page A

week.
    When Mum said ‘Mitch, I thought we agreed three years ago you were too old for all this invisible friend nonsense’, she only used the word nonsense because she was tired and stressed and wondering how she could get two windows fixed before work.
    When Dad said to Mum ‘It’s all your mother’s fault for filling his head with loony hairbrained gibberish in the first place’, he was just letting off steam because of the unkind things Gran says to him, and possibly because the winch had irritated his upper thighs. I hope that makes you feel better, Doug.
    Now we’re all sitting at the breakfast table and there’s some silence at last, I’m gunna try and work it out.
    The thing that’s puzzling me.
    Doug, why didn’t you delay Mum and Dad a bit?
    To give me time to get at least one dive in?
    After they left Conkey’s you could have made them drop into the Gas ‘N’ Gobble for some touch-up paint to cover the rude words people have scratched on the side of Dad’s four-wheel drive.
    You could have inspired them to come home via the scenic route past the abattoir.
    Why didn’t you, Doug?
    Was it cause you’re angry with me for having parents who don’t believe in you?
    Hang on a sec, Mum’s just started to cry.
    â€˜You could have been killed,’ she’s saying.
    Poor thing.
    I feel terrible.
    I wish I could make her feel better.
    All I can do is hug her.
    â€˜For God’s sake speak to him,’ she’s saying to Dad.
    We’re all waiting.
    Dad looks pretty upset too.
    â€˜You could have been killed,’ he’s saying.
    He’s just knocked the milk over.
    â€˜Hopeless,’ Gran’s saying.
    Everyone’s silent again.
    I reckon I know the answer, Doug.
    I reckon you’re not angry.
    Mum and Dad can’t help what they believe, you know that.
    I reckon you stopped me diving this morning for their sake.
    In a town this small, they’d find out sooner or later about me diving onto gym mats and lounge cushions, and the stress would be too much.
    Look at poor old Dad.
    He’s so stressed he’s just shut his tie in the fridge.
    Now he’s glaring at the fridge door like he’s planning to write a report on it.
    OK, Doug, I get the message.
    From now on I’ll only dive into water.
    I just wish the excursion was tomorrow instead of next week.
    When the bus gets to the coast, I’m gunna spend half a minute having a squiz at the sea, just to check out what it looks like, then I’ll go straight to the pool and start practising.
    Doug, please make Dad’s heart valves stand the stress until the excursion.

 
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    The excursion’s been cancelled.
    Ms Dorrit just told us in assembly.
    Kids are almost in tears.
    Me included.
    Leaving the hall we were all numb, just sort of staring at the ground.
    Well, I was staring at the ground.
    The others were staring at me and muttering how it was all my fault.
    Luckily I didn’t have to go into class with them. Ms Dorrit sent me to stand here outside her door after what she reckoned was my outburst in assembly.
    I reckon an outburst’s only human with news that bad.
    What got me was she didn’t even look sad.
    When a school principal stands up in assembly and comes out with news that crook, you’d think she’d at least look sad, eh Doug?
    I’ve got some very disappointing news,’ she said after we’d finished singing.
    I reckon she’s not disappointed at all.
    I reckon she’s glad.
    I reckon she never liked the idea of a school excursion in case Cathy Saxby chucked on the bus.
    â€™Regretfully,’ she said, ‘we haven’t had enough bookings for the excursion and I have no alternative but to cancel it.’
    My insides did a dive.
    No somersaults.
    No twists.
    Just a straight plummet.
    I looked around.
    I’ve never seen a hallful of kids so sad.
    Most of the kids in this town