The Dragon Raft. Rory Barnes

      “I didn’t know it was so weak.”

      “It’s a basketball ring, Billy. It’s only meant to have balls thrown through it.”

      “You’ve gotta be able to slam dunk, Mr. Groves. You can’t play basketball properly without slam dunking. And if you’re a bit short you’ve gotta be able to grab the ring.”

      “This is a school, Billy. We just have normal school equipment here. We’re not Basketball Australia or something. How did you get up there? Climb the pole?”

      “Naw, jumped.”

      “Jumped? That high?”

      “Well...I had a bit of help.”

      “Who from?”

      “Wal.”

      Mr. Groves turned to me. “Well, well, young Walter Clarke. Morning recess isn’t even over and already you are a partner in crime.”

      I looked at Mr. Groves. He wasn’t smiling, but he wasn’t going psycho either. I reckoned he was probably all right. I was about to apologize for my part in the action, when Billy said, “Tony’ll fix it, Mr. Groves. Tony’ll fix it so good it’ll never break again no matter who swings on it. It’ll be an improvement. I’ll get him to do the other one as well.”

      “This Tony,” Mr. Groves said. “He’s your step father, right?”

      “Err...I suppose you could call him that,” Billy said. “Me and Mum live with him.”

      “And he’s a bit of a handyman?”

      “Handyman! Jeeze, he’s a bit more than just a handyman. Tony’s got everything. Welding machine, two lathes, drill press, band saw, radial arm saw, circular saw, angle grinder, portable generator, oxy....”

      “All right, all right, Billy. I’ll tell you what. You get this fixed by Friday home time, and we won’t say any more about it.”

      “You can count on me, Mr. Groves.”

      “I hope I can, Billy. I hope I can.”

      “I’ll need to unbolt the hoop, so I can take it home to Tony. What we need is a shifting spanner. Or maybe an ordinary spanner if it’s the right size. I reckon those bolts are twenty millimetres. You wouldn’t have a twenty mill spanner would you, Mr. Groves?”

      “No, Billy, I don’t think so. Not on me. Not at the moment.” Mr. Groves patted his pockets as if he was just checking to make sure. “No, I don’t have one.”

      “Well somebody must. What about Mr. Winchester?”

      “What about Mr. Winchester?”

      “He’s got a real good tool kit in the boot of his car. I saw it when I was putting the sports stuff in there last Wednesday. I’ll go to the staff room and ask him.”

      * * * * * * *

      By lunchtime Billy had organized a spanner and a step ladder. He tried to get me to help him carry the step ladder from a shed at the back of the oval to the basketball court. I was the first kid he turned to. “Come and give me a hand with this, Wal.”

      As I say, I’ve heaps of experience of new schools. One of the things you learn from moving about so much is this: the kids who are real keen to make friends with you the first day you appear, often aren’t the kids you want to make friends with yourself. That’s a bit harsh, but it’s true. I suppose it’s because the loser kids, the isolates, the lonely kids, can’t make friends with the rest of the mob, so when they see a new guy looking lonely and hanging around with no one to talk to, they move in. They’re like piranha fish. You’ve got to be careful for those first few days at a new school—you’ve got to suss things out. It’s better to wander around by yourself, even if you do feel a bit miserable, than to end up with some loser who suddenly wants to be your best friend. I learned this the hard way. At a couple of the schools I went to, I spent the first term trying to get rid of the kids who had latched onto me in the first couple of days. So when Billy asked me to help him with the ladder, I said, “No, sorry, mate, I’ve got someone I need to talk to.”

      It was bulldust, of course, I didn’t have anybody I needed to talk to. I wandered away. I sat on a bench under a gum tree and watched Billy from a distance. He got some other kid to give him a hand with the ladder, and it didn’t take them very long to unbolt the hoop. Other guys stood around laughing and making comments. Billy seemed to be enjoying himself and the guy who was helping him looked happy to be helping. As I watched, the pair of them laughed at something one of the watchers had said. I couldn’t catch the words. Perhaps I should have been the guy lending a hand, but, as I say, you’ve got to be careful.