What goes around – Deb Slinger

083 boy-flying-kite-lisa-lea-bemishAnother brilliant piece from a GUNNAS WRITING MASTERCLASS writer. 

Nine year old William took a kite out from under his bed and quietly snuck out the back door, wedging the squeaky flyscreen open with a broom and scampered across the back fence to the park while his family were glued to mindless game shows on the TV.

There was plenty of daylight but no one was around tonight, not even people walking their dogs. He looked towards one end of the park where there was an empty playground, at the other end, a picnic area. In between, a large stretch of grass where people would play football and cricket during the summer holidays

William placed the kite onto the ground and gently unravelled the each section so he could see all the parts, checking nothing was tangled. He carefully arranged the tail out under the diamond shaped kite, checked the knots along the spine and cross spars, then unravelled three long arm lengths of line from the green reel.

Once William was satisfied, he stood up and looked out towards the sea, put his finger in his mouth to moisten it and then held it into the breeze.

‘Perfect,’ he whispered.

Today the wind was blowing out to sea which he intuitively meant he had to start close to the shoreline and run back to where he arrived at the park. He picked up the kite by the middle of the frame, grabbed the green reel of line and headed towards the start of the sand dunes. The tail of the kite dragged along the ground behind him.

William reached the edge of the dunes, turned to face the sea, held the kite in his left hand high above his head, shook the tail so it fell into place and reeled off about three more arm lengths of string which curled at his feet.

His body tensed as he said out loud to no one ‘Ready….Set…Go’ William tossed the kite in the air with all his might at the same time he started to run away from the beach. The string snapped tight as the kite whipped up and down, sideways and around until it found a gust of wind that took it upwards.

‘Woo hoo’ squealed William as he let more string slip through his fingers, taking the kite higher and higher, the tail whipping behind its colourful companion.

With no warning, the wind dropped. The kite dipped rapidly and William pulled tightly on the string to give it some upward momentum. It rose quickly again, William feeling pleased with his skills. But again, the wind dropped, the breeze changed direction and the kite started to move dangerously close to the ground, jerking to the left and then the right. William ran faster, pulling harder to stop it crashing. Within centimetres of the ground a gust blew the kite up, tail racing around behind it, the sound of the wind flapping on the tail and once again it was up in the air, this time going higher than before.

William knew from experience that his kite had found ‘the sweet spot’, the place where the wind wasn’t so gusty and it could now fly there for a long time. He lay down on the grass, his arm tugging on the string every so often, watching his kite being buffered by the wind, hearing the sounds of the nylon material flapping, the gentle waves nearby, the smell of the salt, the seaweed and the soothing sound of the breeze through the coastal banksias. As William lay down on the newly dewed grass his thoughts turned to the day’s events and wondered how he was going to tell his parents that he lost his new soccer ball.

They weren’t going to be happy that he’d snuck it to school.

They weren’t going to be happy that once of his classmates took it off him, teased him by kicking it to another boy and wouldn’t let him have it.

They weren’t going to be happy that after ten minutes of playing ‘keepings off’ William, the boys got bored and booted his ball over the school fence onto the busy road.

He watched it roll down the hill; he watched two cars drive right over the top of it but not hit it; He saw it come to rest in the gutter at the bottom of the street. He wasn’t allowed to leave the school grounds or he’d get a detention. But at that moment the bell rang for the end of the break. William looked back down at his ball and was torn between his new soccer ball and getting a detention. Students were walking into classes however, William couldn’t move, just looking at his ball.

He paused for a moment to weigh up the pros and cons but was unaware that he was already walking towards the fence of the school to retrieve his ball. He put his hands on the fence and was halfway over when he heard:

‘William Charles Stockton, where are you going?’ It was the Principal, Mr. Edgerton.

‘I….I…’ he fumbled for words.

‘Over here Mr. Stockton – NOW!’ said the Principal.

As William climbed down from the fence, he took one last look back down the street to see a Jims Mowing van pull over next to his soccer ball. A man leapt out of the passenger side, picked up the ball, jumped back in and the van drove off.

William’s heart sank. Not only had he lost his soccer ball, but now he was probably going to get a detention. And his parents will ground him from going out anywhere after school for a month.

William sighed as he looked up at his kite when he saw a familiar van pulled up at the other end of the park. Two men emerged eating a hamburger and a ball which they started to kick to each other. William recognised them as the same dudes who picked his ball up earlier that day. With all the gumption he could muster and still holding his kite, he walked over to two men and nervously asked ‘nice ball, where did you get it?’

‘Why do you wanta know peanut’ said one of them.

‘Because I lost my ball today at school, it rolled down the hill into the gutter and I saw you pick it up.’

‘Well it’s not yours,’ said one.

‘If it’s not yours, then it won’t have my name on it,’ said William.

‘No name on this ball, except Adidas,’ said the larger of the two men as he rolled the ball over in his hands showing him the name Adidas.

‘My name is on the other side, it should say WS on the other side’ William said as boldly as he could.

The second man snatched the ball from his friend and spun the ball around in his hand and stopped when suddenly, staring.

William knew his name was on it, he knew it was his ball.

The two men tossed the ball at him and said ‘whatever’ and walked back to their van.

The kite kept flapping above William’s head, dipping and cutting through the air.

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