Free Belly Flop by Morris Gleitzman Page B

on.
    Well, almost every property.
    I can’t actually tell them apart cause they all look the same from up here.
    Brown.
    Sorry Doug, I’m forgetting you’d be used to panoramic views.
    So I don’t have to tell you how much smaller a swimming pool seems when you’re looking down on it.
    Specially when half the town’s in it trying to learn how to swim.
    There hasn’t been this much splashing in these parts since Danielle Wicks’ mum tried to wash six dogs in the one bath.
    Nobody’s drowned yet, so swimming can’t be that hard.
    I reckon once I’m in the water I’ll grasp the basics pretty quickly.
    With a bit of help from you, Doug.
    I had lots of Rice Bubbles for breakfast, so at least I’ll float.
    That was a good thought, Doug, only half-filling the pool.
    Sergeant Crean reckons the water’s too shallow for diving into from up here, which has stopped everyone else from having a crack at being a world-champion diver.
    Boy, it’s a long way down.
    It’s OK, Doug, I’m not scared.
    This isn’t me trembling, it’s just me shivering a bit in the breeze. We’re not used to breezes around here.
    Plus my blood’s pounding a bit.
    From excitement.
    My first real dive.
    I can’t wait.
    Well actually I can wait cause if I dive now I’ll land on Mr Saxby.
    And Mrs Saxby who’s holding his neck brace while he practises butterfly.
    And Gavin Sims who keeps sinking to the bottom cause he’s using his dad’s cricket bat as a kick-board.
    And Jacquie Chaplin who can feel something uncomfortable in her swimmers.
    And Hazel Gillies who’s telling her it’s Gavin’s foot.
    And . . .
    I know, Doug, I know.
    I’ve got to wait for a patch of water and go for it.
    It’s the same as waiting for the right moment to tell everyone why they should put up a big sign saying D OUG W EBBER S WIMMING P OOL.
    While I’m waiting I’ll just focus my mind.
    That’s the most important thing for a diver, focussing the mind.
    All the telly commentators say so.
    First I think arms.
    Now I think legs.
    Now I think what if Mr Saxby has a neck spasm and flops into my patch of water while I’m on my way down.
    Now I think stop being such a worry wart.
    Now I think Doug wouldn’t let it happen.
    Now I think he’s already done something today that proves he’s the most super-powerful and clever angel in the entire known stratosphere i.e. half-filled a pool in thirteen minutes without using a single plastic bottle.
    Now I think if he can do that he can do anything.
    Move mountains.
    Move tired sheep.
    End droughts.
    Stop me flattening Mr Saxby or any member of his . . .
    Hang on a sec.
    Jeez.
    Doug.
    I’m so slow.
    Of course.
    You could.
    After this morning I know you could.
    Now I am trembling.
    And not just cause Sergeant Crean’s climbing up and yelling at me that the diving board’s a prohibited area.
    Don’t worry about him, Doug.
    Don’t waste time giving him vertigo or leg cramps.
    Listen to what I’m saying.
    I’m going to ask you the most important thing I’ve ever asked you.
    Ever.
    Including when I begged you to save me from that killer spider in first year.
    Doug, I’m asking you to end the drought.
    Make it rain, Doug.
    You can do it, I know.
    It’s just like what you did today only with more water.
    Doug, ignore Sergeant Crean even though he is grabbing me a bit roughly.
    Focus your mind, Doug.
    End the drought.
    Please.

 
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    Doug?
    Are you there?
    Ignore me if you’ve started focussing your mind on ending the drought, OK?
    I know it’s a huge job and the last thing you want is me yakking away at you. That’s why I haven’t been in touch for the last twenty minutes.
    But if you haven’t started yet, this is important.
    I’m a bit worried you might be having problems.
    You know, because weather’s not really