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  Hi there,

  I’m David Warner, Australian cricketer, and I’m really excited to introduce you to my new series of kids’ books called The Kaboom Kid.

  Little Davey Warner is ‘the Kaboom Kid’, a cricket-mad eleven-year-old who wants to play cricket with his mates every minute of the day, just like I did as a kid.

  Davey gets into all sorts of scrapes with his friends, but mainly he has a great time playing cricket for his cricket club, the Sandhill Sluggers, and helping them win lots of matches.

  If you’re into cricket, and I know you are, then you will love these books. Enjoy The Kaboom Kid.

  David Warner

  Chapter 1: Six and Out Steve

  Chapter 2: Round One to Mudge

  Chapter 3: No Kaboom Gloom

  Chapter 4: Mudge Makeover

  Chapter 5: Facing the Music

  Chapter 6: Caught Out

  Chapter 7: Selector Rejector

  Chapter 8: Sniffer Dog Success

  Chapter 9: A Hat-trick

  Chapter 10: The Big Swindle

  Chapter 11: Batting for Bradman

  Chapter 12: Big Brother

  Chapter 13: Bat or No Bat

  Chapter 14: The Big League

  Chapter 15: Poetry in Motion

  FOR STEVE

  CHAPTER 1

  SIX AND OUT STEVE

  Davey Warner gripped the worn red cricket ball in his hand. His thumb traced the rough seam in the cracked leather before he found the right grip. He gave his shoulders a stretch and jogged lightly on the spot.

  ‘Game on,’ Davey said quietly to himself.

  As if responding to Davey’s comment, the batsman at the other end of the pitch tapped the crease with the end of his bat and waited. His expression was of fierce concentration.

  Davey found his mark and turned. ‘Let’s see how you like this one,’ he muttered.

  He came in a few paces off a short run and released his leg-break. But it pitched short of a length and a loud ‘whack!’ sounded. Davey watched as the ball sailed over his head to the outer.

  What a cracker! Davey’s dog Max yelped and then tore off after the ball.

  ‘Stink!’ Davey pulled a face.

  Davey’s older brother, Steve, looked far too pleased with his shot. ‘You need to mix it up more,’ he said to Davey. ‘Try one that comes straight on.’

  ‘Yeah, yeah,’ Davey muttered.

  It was Sunday afternoon and even though Davey had already played two games of cricket that weekend he was keen for more. Only trouble was, Steve was hitting him to all parts of the backyard and kept giving him unasked-for coaching tips. It was driving Davey bonkers.

  Max loved nothing more than fielding for the Warner brothers. He’d retrieve ball after ball relentlessly, dropping it each time at Davey’s feet in a slobbery pile.

  ‘Hurry up, Max,’ Davey called. He was itching to get his brother out.

  Max let out a series of excited whines as he searched frantically through the overgrown shrubbery alongside the back fence.

  ‘I can see how you’re holding the ball, so I know how you’re going to bowl,’ Steve told Davey as they wandered over to help Max in his search. ‘You want to keep the ball hidden from the batter.’

  ‘Der, I know!’ Davey had just about heard enough of Steve’s advice.

  Steve shrugged and said nothing. He was fourteen and captain of the Sandhill Saints. Davey knew that Steve loved cricket just as much as he did, but Steve didn’t always love playing with his little brother. The feeling was mutual – Davey preferred to play cricket with his friends Sunil, Kevin and George. For one thing, they didn’t tell him what to do.

  Steve found the ball and after giving it a quick rub to remove most of the slobber he tossed it to Davey. They went back to their positions and Max moved to silly mid-on and crouched low. You won’t get it past me this time, he seemed to say.

  Davey ran in, trying hard to hide his grip. It felt awkward and he served up a full toss that Steve hooked to the fence for four.

  ‘Double stink!’ he cursed.

  ‘Don’t lose it, Davey,’ Steve called when he saw the dark look on Davey’s face. ‘You can’t just rely on your batting. You need to be able to bowl as well.’

  ‘Yes, oh Great One.’ Davey rolled his eyes. ‘You aren’t exactly Shane Warne yourself.’

  He jogged over to the side fence that separated their house from his best friend Sunil’s. Davey had lost count of how many runs Steve would have scored over the last hour.

  Davey lined up at the end of his run-up for the next ball and tried to clear his head, but just as he was about to let rip his brother interrupted him again.

  ‘Concentrate on line and length,’ Steve shouted.

  Davey slowed down and focused on controlling his delivery.

  ‘That’s too short,’ Steve said, smacking it to the off side.

  Davey tried again.

  ‘That’s too full,’ Steve said, driving it back over Davey’s head.

  Max raced for the ball again with a delighted yap. He hadn’t seen so much action in years!

  ‘I’d concentrate on your spinners, if I were you,’ Steve said as Davey approached.

  ‘I’d put a sock in it if I were you.’ Davey bowled the next ball as fast as he could but it was over-pitched, and Steve sent it flying over the fence.

  ‘Great shot!’ Steve threw his bat into the air.

  But his delight was interrupted by a high-pitched squeal followed by a loud crash and the sound of something shattering.

  ‘Davey Warner!’ Sunil’s mum shouted from the other side of the fence.

  Davey pulled a face. ‘Sorry, Mrs Deep!’ he called. ‘Look what you’ve done!’ he hissed at Steve.

  He jogged over to where Kaboom, his cricket bat, lay on the grass, waiting. ‘Six and out. My turn to bat.’

  But Steve was already wandering towards the house. ‘I’ve got to meet Danny and Jerome for practice. ‘We’ve got the big game against Shimmer Bay Skiffs on Saturday.’

  ‘No way!’ Davey shouted, holding up Kaboom. ‘My turn to bat!’

  ‘See you later, little brother.’ Steve ruffled Davey’s hair when he walked past him.

  ‘David?’ Mrs Deep was peering over the fence. She waved a broom in the air. ‘I’m waiting!’

  ‘Steve!’ Davey called again, but his brother had already gone. Typical.

  ‘Coming, Mrs Deep!’ he called. At least he wouldn’t have to hear any more of Steve’s ‘advice’.

  Davey looked at Max. ‘You stay here,’ he said. But the dog was already dashing down the side path ahead of him.

  CHAPTER 2

  ROUND ONE TO MUDGE

  Davey gazed out of the classroom window at the dusty playing fields. He squirmed restlessly on the hard wooden seat. It was a brilliantly still summer’s day – perfect conditions for cricket. In fact, it was perfect conditions for anything other than listening to grumpy old Mr Mudge drone on relentlessly with algebra questions while Davey’s whole class – 6M, for ‘Mudge’ – nodded off.

  ‘A boat is travelling at a constant speed for five hours, covering a total distance of 338.49 kilometres. How fast was it going?’ Mudge asked in a monotone.

  This is torture, Davey thought. Does he really expect anyone to answer?

  Davey’s mind drifted off to cricket, and he pictured himself at the crease, leaning into his bat, Kaboom. The ball came fast and straight. The crowd ‘Ooh-ed’ when they realised the ball was rocketing straight for his face, but he didn’t even flinch. Judging it perfectly, Davey struck it and with a mighty crack sent it flying high over square leg and then the boundary for six.

  The crowd erupted! ‘Warner! Warner!’ they chanted, cheering their hero.

  Davey nodded and smiled, soakin
g up the adulation. Cricket glory, fans, playing for a rep side – it was all within his reach. Davey and his bat Kaboom were going places.

  ‘Warner!’ a familiar, cranky voice snapped Davey out of his daydream. ‘What is so amusing?’

  Davey came back to earth with a painful thud. Mr Mudge’s face was just centimetres from his own. The teacher didn’t look happy, and his ears, which peeked out from under lank wisps of grey hair, were rapidly turning a shocking pink.

  Davey remembered – maths. ‘Yes, Sir?’ he asked innocently.

  ‘We’re waiting for the answer, Warner,’ Mudge drawled.

  The answer? Davey didn’t even know the question. Something to do with a boat? He looked at the board for clues but it was just a mass of squiggles and equations. He made a show of studying his notes, but the page in front of him was full of cricket bat designs.

  Mudge crossed his arms impatiently. ‘We’re waiting.’

  Just as Davey opened his mouth, there was a knock at the classroom door.

  ‘Saved by the bell, Warner.’ Mudge scowled at Davey. ‘Don’t move a muscle. I’ll be back.’

  The school principal was standing in the doorway.

  Mudge gave her a welcoming smile. ‘Lavinia – I mean, Mrs Trundle! What can I do for you?’ He hurried over to join her and they were soon deep in conversation.

  ‘Phew!’ Davey stretched out his legs in front of him.

  Davey still had sore muscles from a weekend of cricket. His foot kicked his backpack, which was on the floor in front of him. Davey knew that sticking out of his bag was his cricket bat, Kaboom. It was his lucky bat and had been signed by two of his heroes, Ricky Ponting and Shane Warne. The signatures were important to Davey – if he was in a tight spot on the field, he would think of his heroes and it would help him find his focus.

  Davey’s hands itched to touch the willow. He glanced at Mudge. Davey could have sworn he saw him blush, although it was hard to tell, because the teacher’s ears had changed back from shocking pink to just pink.

  Mudge was still laughing and talking to Mrs Trundle. Davey could hear snatches of conversation about, yawn, lawn bowls and, double yawn, class grading.

  Davey pulled out his bat and held it in his hands.

  ‘Hi, Kaboom,’ Davey said quietly.

  Kaboom was made from beautifully balanced English willow. Davey had put on his own grip and he oiled the bat carefully at the start of the season, giving the face and edges extra care and attention. It was well worn in now, especially since it had so many dents and cherries from hitting sixes out of the park.

  The call to play was bigger than Davey, and he just couldn’t help himself. He slipped out of his seat and adopted a stance at the crease, demonstrating one of his favourite shots, the square cut.

  He looked around at his friends Sunil, George and Kevin, who were each sitting in different corners of the room, specifically so they couldn’t talk about cricket all day. ‘This is how Ricky would deal with a short ball outside the off stump,’ Davey whispered rather loudly.

  Sunil scrunched up a piece of paper into a tight ball and pitched it across the room to Davey.

  Every other student in 6M watched in silent awe as the paper ball flew high into the air. It seemed to move in slow motion as it bounced off the top of Mudge’s balding head and landed on the floor beside him.

  Davey sucked in a breath. Uh-oh!

  ‘Now you’ve done it,’ said Bella Ferosi, the school captain who sat next to Davey. Her brown ponytail flicked back and forth as she looked from Mudge to the soon-to-be-shark-bait Warner.

  ‘Warrr-nerrr!’ If Mudge had been blushing before, he now looked set to blow a fuse. His ears had gone purple, and crimson red blotches had appeared all over his face.

  ‘You’re dead meat, Shorty.’ Mo Clouter sat on Davey’s other side and was perhaps Davey’s least-favourite person.

  Mrs Trundle’s eye twitched. Davey knew that meant she was about to lose it. Clearly unimpressed, she quickly took her leave, but not before throwing Mudge a look that could have killed a cat.

  Mudge turned on Davey. ‘When I get my hands on you, Warr-nerrr . . .’ he spluttered and tiny sparks shot out of his ears.

  Davey held Kaboom out in front of him in mock defence.

  ‘Give it here.’ Mudge reached a hand out for the bat.

  ‘Ah, this is my lucky charm, Sir,’ Davey said. ‘I can’t play cricket without it.’

  ‘GIVE IT TO ME!’ Mudge spat out the words with such force that little bobbles of spit flew from his mouth and landed on Davey’s shirt.

  ‘Please, Sir! I’ll do detention, anything . . .’ Davey pleaded.

  ‘The bat!’ Mudge grabbed hold of Kaboom and pulled.

  But Davey couldn’t let go. It wasn’t that he was a show-off, but Kaboom was his most prized possession. Together, Davey and his bat had plans. They’d made a pact to not only win the season but to show the selectors the art of batting and that they had a place on the rep side.

  Mr Mudge didn’t see it quite the same way. ‘Let it go,’ he seethed.

  There was a short and vicious tug of war before Davey finally gave up. Mudge cleared his throat, smoothed a strand of oily hair over his scalp and placed the bat on his desk with a clunk that made Davey wince.

  George, Kevin and Sunil gave Davey looks of sympathy.

  ‘How long will you have it, Sir?’ Davey asked meekly as he sat down.

  ‘Not sure, Warner,’ Mudge said. ‘Long enough.’

  Mo sniggered. ‘You gonna cry now, Shorty?’

  Davey slid down low in his seat. He hated to admit it, but for once the boneheaded bully was right. He did feel like crying.

  CHAPTER 3

  NO KABOOM GLOOM

  ‘I can’t believe I’ve been out-Mudged by Mudge,’ Davey said glumly.

  Davey opened his lunchbox, stared at the contents and replaced the lid. He was usually starving by lunchtime, but today he was too churned up about Kaboom to eat.

  ‘He’s really got you by the goolies,’ Sunil agreed, crunching on an apple. He dug in his bag and held another one out to Davey, who shook his head.

  George, Sunil, Kevin and Davey were eating lunch in their usual spot near the row of oleanders which lined the school playgrounds. It meant they could eat and then get back to playing cricket, which was how they usually spent their lunch hours – rain, hail or shine.

  ‘How long do you reckon Mudge’ll keep Kaboom?’ Davey asked.

  ‘He confiscated Anh Nguyen’s trick yo-yo for six months,’ George said.

  ‘And he still has Luca Panas’s game cards,’ Sunil added.

  ‘So, like forever?’ Davey groaned. ‘That’s the rest of the season!’

  He fell back on the grass and closed his eyes. Then he remembered. ‘We’ve got training this arvo.’ He sat up abruptly. ‘What am I going to do?’

  ‘You can borrow my bat,’ George said.

  ‘Thanks, Pepi.’ Davey sighed. He appreciated the offer, but no bat in the world could replace Kaboom. Davey knew the bat so well it was like an extension of his own body. It was as if Mudge had cut off his left arm.

  ‘I got a bad case of the Mo Clouter blues,’ Kevin murmured.

  Davey looked up to see Mo and his friends, Nero and Tony, approaching. The best way Davey had found to deal with the meatheads was to ignore them. Davey lay back down on the grass and closed his eyes. Before too long, Mo’s hulk of a body blocked out the sun and Davey was cast into shadow.

  ‘Oi, Shorty . . .’ Mo looked down at Davey. ‘What’ll you do without your lucky bat, you poor little peanut?’

  ‘You losing sleep over me, Mo?’ Davey asked, with his eyes still closed. ‘I never knew you cared.’

  ‘Not likely,’ Mo retorted. ‘I never think about you cricket kooks.’

  ‘You don’t think, period,’ Davey shot back at Mo.

  ‘You’ll never see your bat again!’ sneered Mo.

  ‘What would you know?’ Davey replied.

  ‘Mudge
took my lucky cap a year ago and never gave it back,’ Mo said bitterly.

  ‘Thanks for the intel.’

  Mo pulled a face when he saw what George was eating. ‘Urgh!’

  ‘Want one?’ George offered up a lunchbox full of neatly wrapped vine leaves.

  ‘No way!’ Mo backed away. ‘Freaky foreign food! Come on, boys, something smells off here.’

  The hulk and his cronies ambled off.

  ‘And we were having such a great chat,’ Sunil called after them, giving them a friendly wave.

  ‘Mo’s right,’ Davey said. ‘Mudge will never give Kaboom back willingly. He hates cricket. He’d be loving this.’

  ‘What can you do?’ Kevin asked.

  ‘I have to get it back myself. Whatever the punishment, I don’t care. Kaboom is mine and Mudge has no business taking away my stuff.’

  ‘Go, Warner!’ Sunil said, clearly impressed.

  ‘Where do you think he’ll keep it?’ Davey asked his friends.

  ‘Staffroom?’ Sunil suggested.

  ‘Classroom?’ Kevin added.

  ‘Sports room?’ George said, through a mouth full of food.

  ‘We just have to keep looking,’ Davey said. ‘I’m getting Kaboom back, if it’s the last thing I do!’

  When Davey made up his mind about something, he stuck to it.

  CHAPTER 4

  MUDGE MAKEOVER

  Mudge made a point of leaving Kaboom lying on top of his desk for the rest of the day. Confiscating Davey’s bat seemed to have given the teacher a new lease of life. He talked non-stop all afternoon with something close to enthusiasm.

  Mo had long since drifted off, but the rest of the class were in a state of panic. Enthusiastic Mudge was even worse than normal Mudge. The man would just not shut up.

  Davey sighed and scratched his head.

  Even Bella Ferosi, who was not only school captain but 6M’s most diligent student, appeared to be having trouble keeping up with Mudge as she furiously scribbled down notes.

  Sunil had had enough. He shot up a hand.