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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: The Bet

  Chapter 2: Mascot Madness

  Chapter 3: Alarm Bells

  Chapter 4: The Hitchhiker

  Chapter 5: The Curve Ball

  Chapter 6: Mad Max

  Chapter 7: Against the Bias

  Chapter 8: Sleep On It

  Chapter 9: Caught Out

  Chapter 10: Rolling, Rolling, Rolling

  Chapter 11: Behind the Scenes

  Chapter 12: Bad Guys and Underdogs

  Chapter 13: Against the Odds

  Chapter 14: Thugs, Slugs and Bear Hugs

  Chapter 15: ‘It’s Not Over Until the Last Wicket Falls’

  David Warner’s Amazing Stats

  Your Amazing Cricket Stats

  DEDICATED TO THE MEMORY OF PHILLIP HUGHES

  CHAPTER 1

  THE BET

  ‘Come on, show me what you’ve got!’ Davey Warner teased George Pepi, tapping his bat impatiently at the crease.

  George pounded down the rough run-up at Flatter Park and let fly his fastest delivery.

  Davey watched the ball leave George’s hand and danced down the pitch to meet it. He swung hard into the ball and . . .

  Kaboom!

  Davey smacked the ball high into the mid-wicket outfield. He watched with glee as his dog Max let out a yelp in protest. The fox terrier had been fielding at silly mid-off and was surprised at the direction Davey had hit the ball.

  ‘Fooled you, Max!’

  It wasn’t easy to get one over on Max, who took off at full pelt after the ball. The foxy loved cricket just as much as Davey and his mates.

  This was lucky, because playing cricket was all they ever wanted to do. The boys often enjoyed having a hit at Flatter Park on Sundays. It was close to Davey, George and Sunil’s homes and Benny’s shop was opposite, which was handy for snack breaks.

  Max clamped his sharp teeth down on the leather while performing a perfect mid-air 180-degree spin.

  ‘I’ve had enough of bowling!’ George complained, flexing his hand. Davey had been hitting him all over Flatter Park and his hand was getting cramped.

  ‘Music to my ears,’ said Sunil Deep, who went to the bowler’s end. He much preferred bowling to keeping wicket.

  Davey tapped his bat at the crease and waited. He wanted to practise hitting against Sunil’s fast bowling. Davey had been feeling really good about his batting lately. He’d been working really hard with his special bat Kaboom and it felt as if he’d just stepped up to a new level.

  With a triumphant air, Max trotted back to Sunil and deposited the gooey ball at his feet. He whined expectantly.

  ‘You’re a machine, Max,’ chuckled Sunil and gave the dog a scratch behind the ears.

  ‘Here comes trouble,’ murmured George.

  Chief pest Mo Clouter and his equally annoying sidekicks, Nero and Tony, were walking out to the wicket.

  ‘Just ignore them and they might go away.’ Davey was impatient to play. ‘Come on, Deep.’

  ‘Why’s Clouter dragging a suitcase around with him?’ Sunil wondered aloud.

  ‘Maybe he’s moving away?’ Davey suggested. They could always hope.

  Max jumped up and ran towards Mo and sniffed at the suitcase eagerly.

  ‘Has to be food,’ said Davey. ‘Max! Get back here!’

  ‘I’m starving.’ George clutched at his stomach.

  ‘You’re always starving,’ Davey pointed out.

  ‘Are you our new tea lady?’ Sunil asked Mo.

  Mo set the suitcase down at the end of the pitch. ‘Laugh at me and you’ll be sorry!’

  ‘Why’s that?’ Davey gave up hope of having a hit anytime soon.

  Mo gestured proudly to the suitcase. ‘Because I have in my possession Benny’s shop’s entire stock of . . .’ Mo unzipped the lid of the case to reveal . . .

  ‘Whopper Chomps!’ exclaimed George and Davey in unison.

  The suitcase was indeed chock-a-block with packets of the chewy vampire teeth lolly that Davey and Sunil loved.

  ‘You didn’t steal them, did you?’ asked Sunil suspiciously.

  ‘I used up all my birthday money to buy them!’ Mo stared lovingly at the brightly coloured lollies.

  ‘What are you waiting for?’ Davey said impatiently. ‘Sharing is caring.’

  Mo shook his head and crossed his arms on his chest.

  ‘This is a new business venture. You’re welcome to some of my stock, but it’ll cost you.’

  George narrowed his eyes at the unwelcome news. ‘How much?’

  ‘$3.50 a bag!’ declared Mo.

  ‘Get out of town!’ Davey was disgusted. ‘You’re charging fifty cents more than Benny does!’

  ‘I’m not a charity!’ Mo shrugged and explained his scheme. ‘A man has to earn a living. It’s called supply and demand. Benny won’t have more stock for weeks, so in the meantime I’m the only supplier in the market.’

  Davey rolled his eyes.

  George checked his pockets for loose change. ‘How much have you got, Davey? I’ve got $2.00.’

  Davey grimaced. ‘I’m broke. What about mate’s rates?’ he asked Mo.

  Mo zipped up his case with a flourish. ‘Last time I checked, we weren’t mates.’

  The bully had a point.

  ‘There’s a group of kids playing down by the swings. They could be real customers. Time is money . . .’

  Mo turned to go.

  ‘Hang on a minute,’ said Davey. ‘You can’t get away with this!’

  ‘I think he just did,’ muttered George. His stomach let out a loud growl.

  ‘It’s nothing personal, Shorty. No, hang on, it is personal.’ Mo cracked up laughing before heading off towards the playground, dragging his case behind him. He turned back and grinned. ‘These are all mine . . . unless you’re interested in having a bet.’

  ‘I’m all ears,’ said Davey.

  ‘You’ve got the game against Shimmer Bay coming up in two weeks . . .’

  ‘Yeah? So what?’

  ‘If you hit six sixes, then I’ll give you all my Whopper Chomps.’

  ‘Six sixes?’ George exclaimed. ‘That’s . . . like . . . impossible!’

  ‘And if I don’t hit six sixes?’ Davey asked.

  ‘You have to call me “My Lord and Master” for the rest for the season. You have to carry my footy kit, do my chores. Basically, you’ll be my slave.’

  ‘Don’t do it, Davey,’ Sunil warned.

  Davey ignored Sunil. His eyes were fixed on Mo. He’d had enough of the big chump.

  ‘It’s a deal.’ The words were out of Davey’s mouth before he realised he’d said them.

  ‘We each have witnesses, right?’

  The others nodded.

  Mo held out one of his enormous paws to shake Davey’s hand.

  ‘It’s a bet!’ said Davey as he firmly gripped Mo’s hand.

  ‘See you, suckers!’ Mo laughed slightly hysterically before taking off with his suitcase.

  ‘You must really like Whopper Chomps!’ George shook his head at Davey in disbelief.

  Davey was up for the challenge. He was looking forward
to spending every waking minute of the next two weeks practising his batting so he could bring Mo Clouter down a peg or two. It was way overdue.

  CHAPTER 2

  MASCOT MADNESS

  Monday mornings at Sandhill Primary began with school assembly out in the quadrangle. Davey was usually late and this morning was no exception.

  ‘Ssh!’ Davey held a finger to his lips and slunk in to a place next to his friend Kevin McNab. He was hoping his teacher Mr Mudge wouldn’t notice. Mudge hated students being late. He hated it almost as much as he hated cricket.

  ‘What’s this I hear about a bet?’ Kevin asked.

  Mudge’s radar was in fine form. His head spun around at lightning speed at the sound of Kevin’s voice. His ears glowed menacingly like hot coals on an open fire.

  ‘No talking!’ Mudge hissed at Kevin. He shot Davey a frown for good measure, before turning back to gaze with a look of reverence at their principal, Mrs Trundle.

  Trundle had a lot to say, as always. She rattled on about cake stalls, fundraisers, and the upcoming art show and then – just when it seemed she was wrapping things up – she announced a list of merit award winners.

  Davey switched off. His name wouldn’t be called out. It would be the same students who always won merit awards. Sunil and Bella Ferosi would be among them.

  ‘Sunil Deep,’ Mrs Trundle said brightly as she scanned the crowd for Sunil. He stood up and gave her one of his most winning dimpled smiles.

  ‘If I hit six sixes, maybe I’ll win a merit award,’ Davey whispered to Kevin.

  The crowd clapped wearily as Sunil accepted his piece of paper.

  ‘Anything’s possible,’ Kevin whispered back.

  ‘P-lease,’ hissed a voice from behind Davey. Davey didn’t need to turn around to know who the voice belonged to. Bella Ferosi. She knew a lot about winning merit awards and was easily the best student in the class.

  ‘You need As, not Ds, to win a merit award.’ Bella always spoke slowly when speaking to Davey, as if she were speaking to a toddler. It was more than a little annoying.

  ‘You know what, Bella?’ whispered Davey.

  Bella leaned in closer to hear what he had to say.

  ‘I bet you that I win a merit award by the end of term.’

  Kevin’s eyes grew wide.

  Bella waited for the punchline, but it didn’t come. ‘Oh, you’re not joking?’ She narrowed her eyes at Davey. ‘That’s a bet you’re sure to lose.’

  ‘Then you have nothing to lose by accepting the bet,’ Davey smiled.

  ‘And if by some freak chance you do win an award?’ Bella asked.

  ‘Then you have to dress up as the Sandhill Sluggers’ mascot for our final game.’

  A small worry line formed on Bella’s perfect brow.

  ‘Not the . . . slug?’ Bella could hardly bring herself to say the word.

  Nobody in their right minds ever wanted to wear the Sluggers’ mascot costume. And for very good reason.

  It was a dark grey–green slug colour with two brown slug antennae sticking dismally out the top. The slug dance was like the moon walk – no arms, just legs shuffling, dragging the slug’s tail.

  To make things worse, your face could be seen while wearing the costume. There was nowhere to hide.

  ‘You’re serious?’ Bella seemed to warm to Davey’s idea thinking, perhaps, that there was no way she could lose, because Mr Mudge would never give Davey an award.

  ‘And if – make that when – you don’t win an award, you’ll join the All Stars cheer squad for our netball final,’ Bella said with an evil grin.

  ‘You mean, in a girl’s netball uniform?’ Davey asked.

  ‘Uh huh,’ Bella nodded, ‘pink skirt, pink singlet, pink socks and pink shoes, and you have to cheer the girls with the pompoms doing all the cheers.’

  The cheers were ridiculous pop songs sung in soprano with lots of shrieking, giggling and girly hysteria. Something in Davey just snapped. If he was going to bring Mo down, he might as well do the same with Bella. Her opinion of herself was way too high.

  ‘This is not a good idea, Davey,’ Kevin warned.

  ‘It’s a bet,’ said Davey and he shook Bella’s outstretched hand.

  She smiled politely before withdrawing her hand and wiping the palm on her tunic.

  About a century later, assembly ended and they made their way to the classroom.

  Mudge called for everyone to settle.

  ‘Just a reminder that tomorrow is our exciting PE excursion to Penguin Palace RSL and Bowling Club and I expect you to be on your best behaviour,’ their teacher explained, with something close to enthusiasm.

  Mudge even looked less exhausted than usual as he spoke at length about his favourite sport, lawn bowls.

  ‘It will be a long day out in the sun and it’s a physically demanding sport . . .’

  Davey caught George’s eye. Mudge didn’t know the meaning of physically demanding and rolling a ball down a small flat green certainly didn’t cut it.

  ‘You’ll need sunscreen, a hat, sports kit and don’t be late for the bus. We leave at 8 a.m. sharp.’ The bright vermilion of Mudge’s ears highlighted the importance of his words.

  Despite the fact that they were in for the world’s most boring class excursion, Davey was looking forward to a day out of the classroom.

  Surely it couldn’t be all that bad?

  Bella Ferosi’s hand shot up.

  ‘Yes, Bella?’ Mudge asked, pleased that someone was showing an interest.

  ‘Sir, will this excursion be assessed?’ She shot Davey a smug look.

  Mudge grinned. ‘I’m so glad you asked, because that was my next announcement.’

  Davey’s stomach sank with a lurch. It landed somewhere around his knees.

  Mudge was grinning from ear to ear like a deranged Cheshire cat. ‘Your big assignment for the end of term will be an essay on lawn bowls.’

  Davey groaned.

  ‘Warner,’ Mudge erupted. He went from cold to hot so quickly that the veins in his ears throbbed dangerously. ‘You had better be well behaved tomorrow or there will be con-se-quences!’

  Davey heard a snigger from Mo.

  ‘Now, as preparation for tomorrow, we will spend the rest of the day studying the history of lawn bowls. If you’ll turn your attention to . . .’

  And the rest of the day proved to be as mind-numbing as Davey had thought it would be.

  CHAPTER 3

  ALARM BELLS

  The end-of-day school bell rang out loud and clear.

  ‘The bus leaves at 8 a.m. SHARP!’ Mudge yelled as 6M shot out of the classroom as if their lives depended on it.

  ‘I thought he’d never stop,’ groaned Kevin.

  Davey’s head was so full of lawn bowls facts he felt old and crotchety.

  ‘I can’t believe you’ve bet your brains and your brawn,’ joked George when they were getting their bikes from the bike racks near the school entrance.

  ‘Bella could do with a little healthy competition,’ Davey said.

  Sunil stifled a laugh.

  Davey shot his friend a look which said Don’t you start. ‘I can get a merit award if I set my mind to it.’

  ‘And pigs can fly!’ Sunil cracked up.

  ‘Watch it,’ Davey said.

  ‘Ooh!’ Sunil pretended to be scared. ‘Let’s see you put that attitude into your batting practice, because you’re going to need it!’

  ‘Race you to Little Park,’ yelled Davey, taking off in front of the others on his pushie.

  ‘Not if I get there first!’ Kevin took off after Davey.

  When they got to Little Park, the friends ditched their bikes and got down to business. Davey batted, Sunil bowled, Kevin took his place as wicket-keeper and George was fielder.

  While Mudge had been droning on, Davey had spent the day planning his training regime for the next two weeks. He needed to practise his strokeplay, especially hooking, pulling and driving; then he wanted to hit sixes.

/>   ‘Sunil, bowl me some long hops,’ Davey asked.

  Sunil slyly pitched the ball right up in the blockhole and Davey struggled to get the ball away at all, never mind hitting it for a six.

  ‘Come on! None of this defensive stuff . . . I want to go big!’

  Sunil got down to bowling him some long hops and Davey practised his big hits. He focused on following through with his shots. The ball repeatedly soared out of the park.

  Sunil nodded at him. ‘Better, though the bowlers you’ll be facing are faster than me. You’re going to need a few magic tricks.’

  Davey soon realised what Sunil meant. His arms and shoulders quickly grew tired after slogging the ball over and over again.

  Finally he had to admit defeat and call it a night. His shoulders were aching like nothing else.

  After dinner, Davey brushed his teeth but even the effort of moving the brush up and down was agony.

  ‘You need to toughen up,’ he told the mirror.

  Davey flexed his biceps and checked out his reflection. He grimaced at his sore muscles.

  Davey’s older brother, Steve, appeared in the doorway.

  ‘Hey, Rambo,’ Steve teased.

  Davey grunted and continued brushing.

  ‘I heard something about a bet with Mo. You reckon you’re going to hit six sixes at the game against Josh Jarrett?’ Steve asked.

  Josh Jarrett was Shimmer Bay’s captain and cricket’s all-round Mr Perfect. Josh and Davey enjoyed a long-running grudge match.

  As far as Davey was concerned, losing to Josh was something he couldn’t bear to think about.

  ‘Mmm.’ Davey rinsed his mouth with mouthwash.

  ‘I’ll be there to cheer you on,’ said Steve, clapping Davey on the back.

  Whoosh! Davey spat out the mouthwash.

  ‘You think I have a shot at winning?’ He was stunned to think his brother had faith in him.

  ‘Mate, you’ve got Buckley’s.’ Steve chuckled and grabbed his own toothbrush.

  Davey groaned. He didn’t have the energy to argue. He dragged himself down the hall and flopped into bed.

  As soon as Davey opened his eyes, he knew something was wrong. The room was too bright, the house too quiet. He rolled over in bed and looked at his digital clock.