‘I don’t know,’ Ben said, wavering. He hated fear, all the more now it had moved into their home. In his mother, sometimes he saw the fear so naked he didn’t know whether to hug her or run away from her. Why should fear rule a grown-up’s life? His father’s fear had mutated into sadness, which was worse. Fear kept you running, Lou said. Sadness stopped you in your tracks.

Looking at the bat, now a cleanskin, Ben felt both fear and sadness. Zane was sizing up the Puma stickers. Ben’s mouth went dry with need. Everyone had called it the magic stick when Jai went on a run of four straight half-centuries. Jai had grown out of it, which was why he used one of the three Spartan bats supplied to Daniel as part of an elite junior sponsorship program and bequeathed his own bat to Joel, whose average rocketed from the thirties into the eighties. If Ben had that magic Gray-Nic stick, it could be his first step towards playing for Australia.

‘Course you know,’ Zane said, seeing through Ben just as he was seeing through the plastic backing of the Puma stickers, ‘this is how we shove it up the man. Here: brand-new Puma stick.’ Zane presented the bat to Ben. ‘You can pay me later.’

Ben’s hands, as if they weren’t part of him, reached out and held the bat in a correct grip. Damn, it felt right. ‘Where am I going to get eighty bucks?’

‘Make it sixty,’ Zane said, as if that was solving the problem. ‘Your grandmother gives you an allowance—what is it, two-fifty a term? Take it out of that.’

Ben cursed himself for being dumb enough to tell Zane about Leonie’s allowance payments. That slip of the tongue had already cost him a scooter, a skateboard and a ripstick. He didn’t know if he felt sorry for Zane or was terrified by him. When he paid for Zane’s mobile phone plan, he realised he was both.

‘They’ll see the cherries,’ Ben said, inspecting the bat face. ‘They’ll know it’s the magic stick.’

‘You want to play for Australia, you’ve got to know how to use sandpaper,’ Zane said, with a do I have to explain everything? roll of his eyes.

‘I can’t pay you,’ Ben said. He needed to save his allowance money to give his dad. It was his one hope. Dad was short of cash, and Ben could pool his allowances to help tide him over. Everyone was pitching in. They’d get Dad on his feet again, and in time he would be able to pay Ben back by supporting his efforts to play for Australia. But if Zane kept taking all of Ben’s spare cash, he’d be stuck.

‘Sure you can,’ Zane said with a whiff of impatience, as if the matter was settled.