Hat Trick! by Brett Lee Read Free Book Online Page B

seventh time that morning. Mum headed out early—she was taking Nat to her tennis game.
    ‘Good luck, Toby. Hope all goes well,’ she called from the door.
    ‘Thanks, Mum. Hey, good luck to you too, Nat!’ I called.
    I was ready and sitting in the car. Dad finally arrived with all his gear: camera, deckchair, binoculars, mobile phone, wallet and sunglasses. After a stop at the local milk bar he’d have even more stuff—newspapers and some drinks and snacks. It was Dad’s favourite time of the week, I’m sure of it.
    Jono won the toss and we batted. We would bat for three and a half hours, and then the following Saturday, St Mary’s, the team we were playing, would bat for the same number of overs as they bowled to us today. I’d checked out their form in the paper. They had lost to TCC by about 20 runs, and TCC weren’t supposed to be very strong either.
    It was a good day not to be standing out in the field. And it was good to empty my brain of time travel, Jim, poems, kissing Georgie and all that had been happening this week. I loved playing cricket. I loved getting involved in the game I was playing. It was like going to the movies. You lost your sense of anything that was going on elsewhere, and what time it was.
    Again there was no Jimbo, and no Martian either. Mr Pasquali told us that Martian had been involved in a car accident and would be missing a bit of school. Rahul would have been wicket keeper if we’d been bowling.
    ‘Maybe Martian will be right to keep next week, Mr Pasquali?’ asked Cameron, putting on his pads. He was our other opener, a neat, left-handed batter with a rock-solid defence.
    ‘Yes, Cam, maybe.’
    Mr Pasquali didn’t sound very hopeful. But he looked as if he didn’t want to say any more. Maybe that was the phone call he got at training last Thursday.
    ‘Is he okay?’ Georgie asked.
    The whole team had gone quiet. Mr Pasquali looked around at us.
    ‘Ivo’s going to be fine, everyone. He’s been quite shaken up and is going to need some time in hospital to recover.’ Mr Pasquali nodded. The matter was over.
    ‘Okay, plenty of time, people,’ Mr Pasquali said. ‘Let’s knock up a few 40s today. It’s a fast outfield and we’ve got some short boundaries square of the wicket. Respect the good balls, and belt the wide ones, but keep them along the ground.’
    ‘Unless you reckon you can go over the top,’ added Scott Craven, staring out at the witches’ hats and licking his lips with anticipation.
    ‘Each ball on its merit, Scott,’ Mr Pasquali said, shaking his head.
    Scott Craven could tear a bowling attack apart with his tremendous hitting. I’d picked his bat up once, a few weeks back, at practice. He’d seen me almost straight away. For a moment I thought he was going to belt me with it. But instead, he’d strolled over, smiling.
    ‘It weighs a tonne!’ I’d told him.
    ‘It’s a 16-kilo slugging machine,’ he’d said, taking it from me and twisting it in the air. Then he’d aimed a cut shot at my head.
    ‘And it would knock your head off, Tobias.’
    He had a nasty habit of using my full name. No one else ever did.
    I’d nodded slowly. ‘Guess it would, Scott.’
    I’d mumbled a few more not-so-choice words under my breath as I headed out to the nets.
    St Mary’s had an accurate attack and we were scoring at about three an over. Georgie was doing her usual routine. She was already padded up, even though she wasn’t due to go in until five wickets had fallen. I had the pads on too, but I was batting fourth. One in front of Scott.
    By the time I walked out to bat, the sun was beating down and the bowlers were looking tired. They’d been out there for an hour and a half, and had only taken one wicket: Cameron caught at mid-off for 27. We were 1 for 95. Scott Craven came in after Rahul retired on 42. The first ball he faced he padded back down the wicket. The second, he smashed way over mid-wicket for six.
    He strolled down at the end of the over