Kaboom Kid #8

  Hi there,

  I’m David Warner, Australian cricketer, and I’m really excited to introduce you to my next book in the The Kaboom Kid series.

  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 rep cricket team, the South-East Slammers, and helping them win matches.

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

  David Warner

  Introduction

  Chapter 1: New Beginnings

  Chapter 2: Burning Up

  Chapter 3: Shock, Horror!

  Chapter 4: A Second Chance

  Chapter 5: Pure Gold

  Chapter 6: The Blues

  Chapter 7: Skills and Drills

  Chapter 8: Paint by Numbers

  Chapter 9: Ghosts and Ghouls

  Chapter 10: Batter Up

  Chapter 11: Careful What You Wish For

  Chapter 12: Captain, My Captain!

  Chapter 13: The Captains’ Knock

  Chapter 14: Playing On

  Your Amazing Cricket Stats

  CHAPTER 1

  NEW BEGINNINGS

  It was hot.

  From way back at deep mid-wicket in the outfield, Davey did his best to focus on the bowler, but his vision blurred. Little rivers of sweat ran down his forehead into the corners of his eyes.

  Davey wiped his face with the front of his shirt. Far out, it was hot!

  So hot you could fry an egg on a car bonnet! Davey thought to himself. He wondered if you really could fry an egg on a car bonnet. It was an experiment he and his friend Sunil should try on their year six teacher Mr Mudge’s car, maybe? The thought made him smile.

  Come on, stay focused! Davey tried to imagine his hero Ricky Ponting giving him a pep talk. This is the Ashes decider, Warner. Get a grip!

  But it was no use. His mind kept wandering. ‘Let’s get this over with now!’ Davey muttered to himself.

  It wasn’t like Davey Warner to wish a game away, but this was no ordinary game. Davey’s rep team, the South-East Slammers, were being well and truly thrashed by the Riverside Raiders. It was plain embarrassing.

  Todd, batting for the Riverside Raiders, was relentlessly accumulating runs at a slow but steady pace. Davey hoped he’d hit something in the air his way soon. He gave his neck a stretch and wiped his sweaty hands on his shorts for the hundredth time.

  It was hotter than hot.

  As Sunil took his time getting ready to bowl, Davey glanced over at the stands. They shimmered in the heat like a mirage. He was lucky to have supporters, but in this weather their enthusiasm was waning.

  Was his dad asleep? Davey strained to see whether his dad had really nodded off under his cap. His head looked suspiciously low.

  Max, Davey’s fox terrier and champion fielder, had made his feelings known much earlier in the day. He had taken himself off to sleep under the old oak tree beside the stands. Davey could imagine his snoring, though he couldn’t hear it from where he was fielding.

  So much for loyal fans with you until the bitter end! Davey thought.

  Davey wiped his forehead again.

  The Slammers were playing a 40-over match and had only managed a total of 127 on a good batting pitch. Davey had top-scored with 38, but got out playing a reckless shot that was caught at deep mid-wicket – what their coach, Dermot, called ‘cow corner’. He’d been trying to hit the off-spin bowler out of the ground.

  Despite some good early bowling from Sunil, who got rid of the Raiders’ openers cheaply, the other batters were grinding along with no difficulty.

  Finally, Sunil actually bowled the ball.

  Halleluiah! Davey thought.

  Sunil dropped one short and for once Todd had a go at it, but hit it high on the bat and skied it into the outfield. Davey felt his body sway a little and a sense of stillness came over him. He could almost feel the ball heading his way.

  He loved this feeling. There was a roar from the crowd, and even the players were yelling to him! Davey was perfectly placed for a catch and hardly had to move. He braced himself and anticipated the flight of the ball. He loved these moments when everything just came together beautifully.

  ‘Gotcha!’ Davey clasped the ball in both hands and felt the sting from the impact. Despite his sweaty hands, he managed to close his fingers round the ball.

  ‘Howzat?’ Davey whooped and leapt into the air. ’Got him!’

  He looked around and noticed that the crowd was eerily silent. Everyone was staring at him, but not in the admiring way he’d imagined.

  ‘No ball!’ Josh Jarrett, their captain, yelled at him. ‘Didn’t you hear the umpire?’

  Davey blushed.

  ‘Aaah, no.’ He hadn’t heard anything except for people calling out his name. The looks on everyone’s faces now told him the reason they had been shouting at him.

  Davey lobbed the ball over to Josh.

  Would this game never end?

  The kindest thing now would be for the Raiders just to put them out of their misery.

  About two hours later, they did. The crowd clapped half-heartedly. They were eager to be anywhere but in the sweltering atmosphere of the cricket ground.

  Davey joined his best friends Sunil Deep and George Pepi as they wolfed down orange quarters. It was a massive relief to be in the shade. The rest of the Slammers rep side gathered around. They gave each other a few claps on the back. Josh made a point of shaking everyone’s hand and giving out words of encouragement.

  Davey kicked at the rough ground with his toe. He was in no hurry to get back to get an earful from their coach, Dermot. Dermot was legendary for two reasons – his quick temper and his voice, which sounded like a sheepdog’s.

  For once, Dermot seemed at a loss for words.

  ‘Aaah . . . That was an interesting game.’ Dermot’s emphasis on the word interesting was not a good thing. ‘Less said about it the better. I have an announcement to make . . . This was Josh’s last game as captain.’

  All eyes swung to look at Josh Jarrett.

  ‘Josh has been selected to join the State Cricket Academy for under 13s. He’ll still play for us, obviously, but his Academy commitments will mean he’s out half the season and we need a full-time captain.’

  There were murmurs of congratulations from the team. Nobody was very surprised, as Josh was an excellent cricketer.

  Davey felt grudgingly pleased for Josh. They weren’t what you would call friends, but even Davey had to admit he deserved this opportunity. Sunil was the obvious choice for captain, as he was their current vice-captain. Davey wondered who it was Dermot had in mind for a new vice-captain. Would he have a shot at it? Suddenly he was all ears for what Dermot had to say next.

  ‘Jarrett stepping down leaves a leadership vacuum in the team.’

  Dermot’s eyes scanned the team and rested on each of the players in turn. Davey held his breath as Dermot’s eyes rested on him.

  ‘And, to be frank, I’m struggling to think of anyone who can fill his shoes.’

  Davey’s eyes narrowed. What was Dermot going on about? Sunil was excellent captain material!

  ‘I’ll make a decision about the captaincy after the holidays.’

  Dermot dismissed them with a wave.

  Davey stood stunned at the news.

  ‘You okay?’

  ‘Ah, yeah.’ Davey gathered his thoughts. ‘Congrats, Jarrett!’

  Josh lowered his voice, ‘Look, Sunil is a shoo-in for captain. And you could be vice. I did this camp last holidays. It was awesome. I reckon you and Sunil shou
ld do it . . . prove to Dermot that you’ve got what it takes.’

  Josh handed Davey a flier.

  ‘Thanks.’

  The flier was simple. It read: ‘Gold’s Camp Cricket. Turning players into legends since 1890.’

  Davey felt his stomach give a flip with excitement as he read the words. It sounded like a dream come true. The camp ran for three nights. You slept over and played and talked cricket 24/7.

  With high-level training like this, Dermot could make him vice-captain! To top it all off, he had some money saved from his last birthday and Christmas. It might just be enough to pay for the camp! Davey couldn’t wait to get home to ask his mum and dad.

  CHAPTER 2

  BURNING UP

  Mr Deep’s driving was more like crawling. It was made worse by his constant stream of dad jokes.

  As they drove past the Sandhill Flats cemetery, Mr Deep said in his best tour guide voice, ‘And on our right you’ll find the historic Sandhill Flats cemetery . . . It’s the dead centre of town.’

  ‘Oh, Dad!’ Sunil groaned. ‘You’re so embarrassing.’

  ‘It’s very exclusive: nobody living in Sandhill Flats can be buried in there, you know!’

  Sunil slid further down in his seat.

  Several dad jokes later, they pulled into the Deeps’ driveway.

  ‘Dad, I was thinking . . .’

  But Mr Deep cut him off. ‘You were? I thought I could smell something burning!’

  Davey and Sunil groaned in unison.

  ‘Thanks, Mr Deep, Mrs Deep!’ Davey called, as he slammed the passenger door and bolted.

  ‘Ah, see you,’ Sunil gave his friend’s back a wave, ‘later?’

  As Davey made his way closer to his house he smelled trouble. Mr Deep was right. Something was burning!

  ‘Phew!’ Davey sniffed and screwed up his nose.

  Had Max let a killer fart rip through the entire neighbourhood?

  ‘Max!’ Davey looked at the dog, who was waiting for him at the top step. Max gave a yelp and seemed to be saying, ‘Don’t look at me!’

  The smell of burnt metal and rotten eggs got stronger as Davey approached the house.

  Suddenly Davey’s stomach lurched and, with a sinking feeling, he remembered.

  It all came back to him in a rush. Davey saw himself some eight hours earlier. He was standing in the kitchen cooking bacon and eggs. He had slept in, so he was hurrying. He saw himself flip the eggs with the spatula and there was that noise. The car horn tooted. It was Mr Deep waiting for him. Davey watched in his mind’s eye as he dropped the spatula and grabbed his bag and took off out of the kitchen.

  ‘Uh oh.’

  What had he done? He remembered clearly now. He hadn’t turned the gas off. Davey’s mouth felt dry. He’d left the frying pan full of bacon and eggs on a hot plate with the spatula sitting on top.

  A shadow appeared in the doorway. It grew taller and seemed to loom over Davey. He held his breath. His mother appeared, arms crossed, and her face like thunder. Unlike Dermot, she wasn’t at a loss for words.

  ‘I could have died!’

  ‘Mum . . .’

  ‘The house could have burned down!’

  Max lay down and hid his snout under his paws.

  ‘Well . . .’ Davey searched for the right answer that might calm his mum down.

  ‘Well what?’

  ‘Well, the house didn’t burn down, that’s positive.’

  Davey hovered awkwardly on the front steps. Silence from his mum.

  ‘It was an accident!’ Davey exclaimed, exasperated.

  Davey’s dad appeared. ‘Don’t raise your voice at your mother. She got a terrible fright – we all did.’

  Davey noticed the Deeps were watching from their driveway.

  ‘Sorry,’ Davey mumbled.

  Davey’s mum crossed her arms. ‘Was it an accident when you broke Mrs Deep’s window with a cricket ball?’

  ‘Yes, it was an accident, Mum!’ Davey glanced nervously at Mrs Deep, who looked cross at the memory.

  ‘What about when you climbed up on Mrs Garcia’s roof to get your ball back and pulled her entire lattice down?’ asked Davey’s dad.

  ‘Dad, that was totally an accident! I broke my collar bone doing that!’

  ‘What about the time when you lost control of your bike and you knocked over Mr Henderson’s letterbox?’ added his mum.

  Davey looked sheepish. ‘Technically, I didn’t lose control. That was a mechanical failure.’

  There was silence apart from a low chuckle from Mr Henderson, who was across the road trimming his hedge. Davey’s mum silenced him quick smart with her dagger laser eyes.

  ‘Terrible thing, terrible,’ he muttered quickly and went back to his gardening.

  Davey’s mum glared at her youngest son. ‘WE’VE HAD ENOUGH!’

  A low murmur was heard from the Deeps.

  Davey’s dad glanced at the crowd. ‘Let’s take this inside, love. We’ve all had a long day.’

  ‘A long day playing cricket!’ Davey’s mum pointed her index finger at Davey. ‘It’s just cricket this and cricket that. I’ve had it. Until your behaviour around the house improves, THERE WILL BE NO MORE CRICKET. No practice, no games, no cricket on TV. Cricket will not be mentioned in this house!’

  Audible gasps from the Deeps and Mr Henderson. They all knew how much Davey lived and breathed cricket.

  ‘MUM!’ Davey spluttered. ‘You can’t totally ban me from cricket . . . Josh has stepped down and I’ve got to go to cricket camp or Dermot won’t make me vice-captain!’

  ‘Cricket camp!’ Davey’s mum laughed, a shrill, high-pitched laugh. ‘You’ve got Buckley’s. Paint-the-kitchen camp more like.’

  Davey appealed to his dad. ‘Dad? There’s nothing else like this camp! Please?’

  ‘Don’t look at me, son.’ Davey’s dad held his hands up in resignation. ‘You need to learn some responsibility.’

  ‘Aargh!’ Davey cried in exasperation.

  He slumped down onto the top step outside the front door.

  ‘Come on, Sunil.’ Mrs Deep steered her son back towards their house. Sunil gave Davey a look of sympathy.

  Max whined and looked at Davey expectantly. He was lying on the lawn with a slobbery ball in his mouth.

  ‘Sorry, dog,’ Davey sighed, ‘you heard the oldies. No cricket.’

  His one chance of making vice-captain was slipping from his fingers. His folks were angrier than a nest-full of bull ants! There was no way they would let him go to camp now.

  CHAPTER 3

  SHOCK, HORROR!

  Monday morning. The beginning of a week of Mr Mudge drudgery, commonly known as Mudgery, and Davey’s least favourite person in the entire universe was standing at the main gates of Sandhill Flats Public School.

  ‘I bet he’s waiting for me,’ Davey thought.

  Mo Clouter, general pest, took a personal interest in Davey’s affairs and revelled in any whiff of failure. Davey braced himself for the onslaught as he approached the great lump.

  ‘Heard you got thrashed over the weekend!’ Mo stuck his leering, toothy dial right in Davey’s face. Davey could clearly see Mo was chewing on at least four Whopper Chomps, Davey’s favourite lolly. He suddenly wanted to have one.

  ‘Four on the trot . . . Ouch, that’s got to hurt!’ Mo chanted in a high-pitched sing-song voice which grated on Davey. ‘And I hear your mum bawled you out in front of everyone!’

  Mo pressed the chewy lump of Whopper Chomp into Davey’s hand and broke into raucous laughter that sounded like a cross between a kookaburra and a hyena. Mo’s ever-loyal cronies Nero and Tony laughed a beat or two behind.

  ‘Urgh!’ Davey threw the sticky mess on the ground. Yuck!

  Davey knew it was best to ignore Mo and hope he vanished into thin air like the bad smell he was.

  He pushed past the bully and nearly collided with Bella Ferosi – school captain and compulsive over-achiever.

  ‘Davey!’ Bella grasped Davey b
y both shoulders. Her face was scrunched up in concern. ‘I’ve been worried about you. First the team being beaten so badly,’ she shook her head in commiseration, ‘and then your mum . . .’

  Davey carefully extracted himself from Bella’s grasp. ‘It’s okay, Bella, I’m fine.’

  ‘Well, if you ever need help, or just to talk, I’m here for you,’ she called after him. ‘I’m going to be a counsellor one day.’

  Davey felt his mood slipping from bad to worse. He hoped the day would never come when he might need Bella Ferosi’s help. It would be too humiliating.

  Davey spotted Sunil Deep, George Pepi and Kevin McNab standing by the bubbler and made a beeline for them.

  ‘Hey, guys.’ Davey threw his backpack onto the ground as he joined his friends.

  ‘So you’re still alive,’ said Kevin.

  ‘Your folks still cross?’ Sunil pulled a face in sympathy.

  ‘That would be a yes.’ Davey remembered his parents’ frosty faces and silence from breakfast.

  ‘I spoke to my folks last night and I go can go to camp,’ Sunil announced.

  ‘Me too!’ George chimed in.

  ‘And me!’ said Kevin.

  Davey felt gutted. Not only did he look like missing out on camp, but all of his friends were going without him.

  ‘What about you, Warner?’

  Davey shook his head. ‘I’m grounded, banned from even mentioning the word cricket.’

  ‘How long for?’

  ‘For-EVER.’

  ‘Ouch.’

  His friends sympathised. They knew how much Davey loved cricket.

  Davey’s mum had laughed a scary high-pitched laugh when he’d mentioned the cricket camp. Then she’d sent him to bed at six o’clock. It had taken him a long time to fall asleep.

  Davey tried to look on the bright side. ‘Well, if I can’t go to camp, at least I’m a chance for vice-captain!’

  Nobody said anything.

  ‘What?’ Davey looked from Sunil to George to Kevin and back again.

  Sunil shrugged. ‘I didn’t know you were interested in running for vice-captain.’

  ‘Yeah, are you for real, Warner?’ Kevin turned to face Davey directly. ‘Stick to the fun stuff, I reckon!’