The Big Switch Read online

  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: Kaboom Takes a Bow

  Chapter 2: Mid-off Max

  Chapter 3: Mo’s Mambo

  Chapter 4: Training Try-out

  Chapter 5: Trick or Treat

  Chapter 6: Switch Glitch

  Chapter 7: Practice Impossible

  Chapter 8: Detention Circumvention

  Chapter 9: Secret Weapons

  Chapter 10: Costume Cricket

  Chapter 11: Match Unfit

  Chapter 12: Batting from Behind

  Chapter 13: Switch or Nix

  Chapter 14: Welcome to Kindy Cricket Spectacular

  FOR MUM & DAD

  CHAPTER 1

  KABOOM TAKES A BOW

  Davey Warner gripped his bat. Squinting in the sunlight, he watched as his arch-rival, Josh Jarrett, paced out his run-up at the far wicket. At last Josh turned and faced him. Even from this distance, Davey could see the determination in Josh’s eyes as the star all-rounder gave the ball a final polish.

  This was it. The last ball of the match, and Josh’s team, Shimmer Bay, were ahead by five runs. Davey’s team, the Sandhill Sluggers, had put up a fight, but they’d been the underdogs from the start. Now Shimmer Bay appeared certain to win the match and seize the number-one spot on the ladder.

  Davey glanced around. Josh, who was Shimmer Bay’s captain, had changed his field because Davey was a left-hander. Josh’s team played like real professionals.

  ‘Come on, Josh, bowl him a bouncer!’ someone shouted from the sideline. The Shimmer Bay supporters were as determined as their players to see the Sluggers go down. They were always shouting out advice that even Josh Jarrett ignored, despite the fact everyone said he was cricket’s most well-mannered, best-behaved all-round Mr Perfect.

  Davey glanced over at the Sluggers’ supporters and players. Benny, their coach, was present, but he was deep in conversation, and Davey guessed he wasn’t talking about cricket. Davey’s best mate, Sunil, gave him a wave. There was his friend George, and Kevin, who’d skipped Vietnamese school to catch the game. Even his big brother, Steve, had turned up.

  ‘Go, Davey! You can do it!’ Davey’s mum and dad were cheering from the sideline, but they didn’t sound confident. Why would they? The Sluggers were as good as finished.

  Davey took his position at the crease. Trying to focus his mind, he tapped his bat on the ground. It was his special bat made of English willow and signed by his heroes, Ricky Ponting and Shane Warne. The bat was called Kaboom, and it felt heavy and powerful in his hands. He raised Kaboom to his lips and gave it a kiss for good luck. He was ready.

  Josh began his run-up. He pounded towards the bowler’s crease and let the ball fly. It was fast and short down the leg side.

  Davey swung Kaboom and hit the ball clean and true. It soared into the sky and away, over the trees by the boundary. Six! Six!

  Davey Warner had snatched the match from the jaws of defeat! The Sandhill Sluggers had won!

  The Sluggers and their supporters cheered wildly. The Shimmer Bay supporters were already packing up.

  Davey looked down at Kaboom. ‘Thanks, mate,’ he said to his special bat. ‘I couldn’t have done it without you.’

  Kaboom nodded before leaping out of Davey’s hands. The bat waddled out into the middle of the pitch . . . and took a bow . . .

  Davey heard a squawk. The fielders had turned into seagulls and were flying off in every direction. Even Josh Jarrett had sprouted a pair of wings.

  The other batter ran towards him. It was Max, his dog – and he was wearing a tutu in the Sluggers’ colours of green and gold.

  Max gave him a big wet kiss on the face. Ugh! Max smelt bad – he must have rolled in something.

  Oh no! It’s a dream! Davey woke with a start. Max was standing on top of him, licking his face. The dog stank like something dead.

  ‘Get off!’ Davey shouted. He pushed Max onto the floor and squinted in the morning sunshine. He couldn’t believe it. It had all seemed so real. Josh Jarrett, the Shimmer Bay supporters, Mum and Dad looking unsure . . . Kaboom taking a bow – and Max in a tutu. No, it definitely had been a dream.

  And then reality hit, and Davey felt like pulling the blanket over his head and going back to sleep until the cricket season was over. Because the truth was, just three days earlier the Sandhill Sluggers had lost to Shimmer Bay. Davey hadn’t hit a six – instead, all-round Mr Perfect Josh Jarrett had. And worse, Shimmer Bay were now top of the ladder, leaving the Sluggers stuck at equal second with the Crabby Creek Crickets.

  It was too terrible to contemplate. Davey pulled the blanket over his head and tried to think about something else. Then he remembered it was the summer holidays and he and Sunil could meet up with the others for a game of cricket on the beach. Life wasn’t so bad after all.

  He threw the blanket off.

  Davey’s mum stuck her head around the door. ‘Ah, you’re awake. Better get up. Can’t be late for your first day back at school!’

  Davey pulled the blanket back up over his head and let out a groan.

  ‘Good heavens!’ he heard his mum exclaim. ‘What have you been rolling in, you dreadful dog?’

  Max barked. At least someone was happy the school year had started.

  CHAPTER 2

  MID-OFF MAX

  Mrs Trundle, the school principal, had made it clear on countless occasions that Max was not to attend school under any circumstances whatsoever.

  Unfortunately, Max had never paid any attention. So when Davey took off on his bike in the direction of Sandhill Flats Primary, the dog was close behind, nipping the bike’s back wheel and yapping loudly.

  Davey found his friends already playing cricket at the bottom of C playground. No teacher was in sight, so Max was in the clear.

  Sunil screwed up his face. ‘What’s that smell?! Warner! Have you been rolling in doggy doo again?’ He laughed.

  ‘Deep, you’ll be in it in a minute,’ Davey replied, pushing his friend so hard he almost fell into a puddle of what looked suspiciously like runny poo. ‘It’s Max,’ he said.

  Kevin McNab and George Pepi wandered over, holding their noses. ‘Good to see you, Warner,’ Kevin said in a nasally voice. He put his arm around Davey’s shoulders. ‘Come to learn how to play cricket, have you?’

  ‘Very funny, McNab,’ Davey said.

  ‘I heard what happened against Shimmer Bay. You Sluggers obviously need help.’

  ‘And you need a brain transplant.’

  It wasn’t exactly a killer line, but Kevin seemed to like it because he grinned. ‘Oh well, give me a call if you need any tips. Maybe one day I’ll join the team.’

  Davey wished Kevin would join the Sluggers, but he couldn’t because his mum made him go to Vietnamese school on Saturdays, which was when the Sluggers played.

  ‘Come on, guys. It’s nearly bell time!’ Sunil called.

  When everyone was in position, George bowled a leg break to Kevin, who lofted it towards the mid-off fence. Max caught it on the full. Kevin was out.

  ‘Stinking dog!’ Kevin threw down his bat. ‘You’re in, Warner. But watch out for that dishlicker. He’s
getting good!’

  Davey took Kaboom out of his backpack, then pulled out his special cricket cap and put it on his head. It was just a faded green trucker’s hat, but Davey called it his ‘baggy green’ and had stuck a picture of the Australian cricket team’s badge on the front.

  ‘Okay, Deep, give me all you’ve got!’ he shouted.

  Sunil bowled a fast one outside Davey’s off stump.

  Davey drove it straight into Max’s open jaws. Max smiled through his catch.

  Davey was out for a duck. ‘Max, you’re a menace!’

  Sunil guffawed. ‘He’s good is what he is. But, hey, can’t get out first ball. Go again.’

  Davey hated being given a second chance almost as much as he hated getting out. He faced up again.

  Once more Max caught him out. The dog now had a hat-trick of catches.

  ‘You’ll have to do better than that if you want to beat Max the Axe,’ Kevin called out.

  Davey glared at his dog. ‘Max the Muppet, more likely.’

  Max grinned the way dogs do.

  ‘Hey, Shorty! Out again? Maybe you should give up and play a real game.’ Big Mo Clouter, the school’s best footy player, had appeared out of nowhere and was standing menacingly beside the wicket while Sunil prepared to bowl.

  Six years of putting up with Mo had taught Davey that the best thing to do was pretend the swaggering lump of wood was invisible.

  Sunil did the same. ‘One more chance!’ he called to Davey before running in. But as he was about to bowl the ball, Mo stuck his foot out and tripped him.

  It was a pathetic trick and Davey could hardly believe it had worked, but now Sunil was sprawled on the ground eating dirt.

  Mo hooted then gagged. ‘Aww, that dog’s stinky! I gotta get out of here! Weird smells make me sick!’ He ran off in the direction of the toilets.

  Sunil got to his feet and dusted himself off. He turned to run in again.

  ‘Warrr-ner!’

  Now Davey remembered why the summer holidays had been so sweet (if he didn’t count the loss to Shimmer Bay). Sure, there had been lots of cricket, going to the beach, barbecues for dinner, Christmas presents (a set of wickets and a brand new ball), a fair bit of screen time . . . But what had made the holidays so perfect was that Davey hadn’t heard of nor seen Mr Mudge, or ‘Smudge’, as he and his friends sometimes called him. Not once. Now here was the grumpiest, most tired, most unfair of school teachers in all of Sandhill Flats, and he was clearly unimpressed to be back at school after six weeks doing whatever Mudges do.

  ‘Yes, Mr Mudge?’

  ‘What is that dog doing at school? AGAIN! How many times have you been told?’ Mr Mudge marched up to Max and grabbed him by the collar. ‘Aargh! What’s that smell?!’

  Max sat down hard in the dirt, a look of profound disappointment on his face. He wasn’t going anywhere.

  ‘Get this malodorous mutt out of here THIS MINUTE!’ Mr Mudge bawled.

  Even from a distance, Davey could see that the teacher’s ears, which stuck out from under lank grey hair, were turning crimson. Obviously Mudge was even sorrier than Davey that the holidays were over.

  ‘Yes, Mr Mudge,’ Davey said meekly. ‘Max, home!’ he commanded.

  Max looked balefully at Davey and stayed put.

  ‘Max, HOME! NOW!’

  Max didn’t move a whisker.

  Davey trudged over, grabbed his dog by the collar and dragged him towards the school’s side gate. ‘Straight home,’ he said into the animal’s ear, before giving him a quick pat and pushing him through. ‘No side trips.’

  Max threw him a look that said I can’t promise anything and slunk off.

  When Davey returned to his friends, Mr Mudge was lecturing the boys on school rules about dogs and cricket.

  ‘I’ll be watching you lot,’ he said. ‘Do anything silly and I’ll be putting an end to all this cricket.’ He looked at Davey. ‘And get rid of that hat! You’re out of uniform!’

  Finally Mr Mudge finished his tirade and turned to leave.

  ‘A few more balls, Deep,’ Davey said quietly to Sunil.

  At that moment the bell rang.

  ‘Put it away immediately!’ Mr Mudge bellowed as he stomped off.

  The boys gathered their belongings and trudged in the direction of the quadrangle.

  CHAPTER 3

  MO’S MAMBO

  ‘I need performers and volunteers to help with this year’s Welcome to Kindy showcase. All you clever year sixes in particular – this is your chance to shine!’ The smiling teacher addressing the assembly was new at the school.

  She’ll stop smiling pretty soon, once things settle down, thought Davey, who was sitting up the back with the rest of Year Six.

  It was the first assembly of the year, and it seemed to be dragging on forever. There’d been announcements about no ball games in B playground and no running in A playground, and now the Welcome to Kindy showcase. No wonder everyone was whispering and fidgeting and scratching.

  The new teacher pressed on. ‘So come and talk to me about—’

  Suddenly Mrs Trundle burst into rhythmic clapping. The whole school clapped back.

  When everyone was quiet, Mrs Trundle seized the microphone. ‘Thank you, Ms Maro,’ she said, nodding in the direction of the now startled new teacher.

  But Ms Maro wouldn’t be silenced. ‘Students, come and talk to me about your ideas for the showcase,’ she shouted. ‘Singing, dancing – anything you think the kindies and their parents will enjoy.’ She looked across at Mrs Trundle and smiled. ‘Thank you, Mrs Trundle. I’ve finished now.’

  Mrs Trundle’s eye twitched. She waved a wad of papers at the students. ‘It’s time to join your new classes,’ she said in an imperious voice. ‘Listen for your name, remember your teacher and, at the end of assembly, follow that teacher to your new classroom.’

  Davey and his friends looked at each other. There were usually three Year Six classes, so chances were they’d be split up.

  ‘We’ll start with Year One,’ Mrs Trundle said, looking across at Year Six with a smirk on her face.

  Year Six groaned and zoned out.

  Around four hours later, Davey came to.

  ‘David Warner . . .’ Mrs Trundle’s voice was sounding tired. ‘Sunil Deep . . .’

  ‘Yes!’ Davey whispered.

  ‘Mo Clouter . . .’

  Davey sucked in a breath.

  ‘George Pepi . . .’ Mrs Trundle’s voice sounded husky. ‘Bella Ferosi . . . and Kevin McNab.’

  The boys punched the air. They were all in the same class. It was going to be one awesome year.

  ‘Your class is 6M, and your teacher is . . .’

  Davey and his friends stared at each other in horror. The M in 6M could stand for only one thing.

  Mrs Trundle’s voice was almost gone. ‘. . . Mr Mudge,’ she wheezed.

  ‘Warner, Deep, McNab and Pepi are to sit at different tables. There’ll be no talking about cricket in my class!’

  It was still morning on the first day of the school year and Mr Mudge’s ears were already vermilion. ‘Warner, you sit there.’ Mudge pointed to the place between Bella Ferosi and Mo Clouter. ‘Hopefully Bella and Mo can keep you on track.’

  Bella, who was school captain and had never answered a question incorrectly since she was born, gave her neat brown ponytail a flick. She smiled kindly at Davey as he trudged towards her.

  Davey pulled out his chair, set down his belongings and squeezed in next to Mo.

  Mo made a face and grabbed Davey’s ruler. ‘I’ll show you how to play cricket, Shorty,’ he said, brandishing the ruler like a cutlass.

  Davey smiled bitterly before looking around for his friends, now scattered to the far corners of the room. Sunil made a sympathetic face. There was nothing to be done, so Davey tried to tune in to the drone of Mr Mudge’s voice.

  ‘For my holiday, I went on a lawn bowls tour up the coast,’ Mudge was saying. ‘Every day we played in a new place against a new tea
m. It was a dream come true!’ He threw his arms wide in excitement.

  Davey had never heard the old grump speak with such passion.

  ‘So now, I’d like you to write a short recount about something you did during the holidays.’ Mudge smiled. ‘There’s just one rule.’ He raised his finger and pointed at Davey, Sunil, George and Kevin in turn. ‘No cricket. If I read anything about cricket, you’ll be picking up papers all lunchtime.’

  Back in third grade, Davey had worked out that Mudge didn’t like cricket much. Now it struck him – Mudge despised cricket.

  Davey looked at the blank piece of paper in front of him. What else was there to write about? Uncle Vernon’s record-breaking burp at Christmas lunch? The day Dad fell off the veranda and landed on Mum’s cactus? Or when Sunil nearly choked on a Whopper Chomp lolly, and Davey had to thrash him on the back to save him? All fun times, but not as much fun as playing cricket.

  Suddenly he felt something sharp on his cheek. He looked up. Mo was laughing silently. A dozen or so paper spitballs were lined up on the desk in front of him. Wielding Davey’s ruler like a tennis racquet, Mo was batting spitballs in his neighbour’s direction.

  Next Mo took aim at Bella. The school captain, who’d had her head down all the while, was studiously writing, her free hand covering her work so no one could copy.

  Davey peeled the spitball off his cheek and tried to focus again on his story.

  ‘Ouch!’

  Davey looked up. Now Mo had his head down and was working quietly. The ruler lay by Davey’s hand.

  Bella picked a spitball off her face and raised her hand. ‘Mr Mudge,’ she said in a clear voice.

  ‘Yes, Bella?’

  ‘Davey Warner is hitting spitballs with his ruler. One got me in the face.’

  Mo sniggered.

  Mr Mudge’s ears turned beetroot. ‘Whhh–a–a-a–t? Warner, I’m giving you your first warning. One more and you’re on lunchtime detention. Hand me that ruler. Now get back to work!’

  Davey passed the ruler to Mudge. There was no point trying to clear his name. Instead, he tried to get on with his schoolwork.