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Well I came top of the class again. One hundred out of one hundred for Maths. And one hundred out of one hundred for English. There isn’t one kid in the class who can come near me. Next to me they are all dumb.Even when I was a baby I was smart. Since then I have always been very advanced for my age. Every year I win a lot of prizes: top of the class, top of the school, stuff like that.
Some kids don’t like me; I know for a fact. I don’t care. They are just jealous because they are not as clever as me.
Last week something happened. Another kid got one hundred out of one hundred for Maths too. No one had ever done as well as me. A kid called Jerome Dadian beat me. It had something to do with that ice cream. I decided to find out what was going on.
It all started with the ice cream man, Mr Peppi. The old fool had a van which he parked outside the school. He sold ice cream, all different types. He didn’t like me very much. He told me off once. “Go to the back of the queue,” he said. “You pushed in.”
I went round to the back of the van, but I didn’t get in the queue. I took out a nail and made a long scratch on his rotten old van. Peppi came and had a look. “You are a bad boy,” he said. “One day you will get into trouble. You think you are smart. One day you will be too smart.”
I just laughed and walked off. I knew he wouldn’t do anything. He was too soft-hearted.
There were a lot of stories going round that ice cream. People said that it was good for you. Some kids said that it made you better when you were sick. One of the teachers called it “happy Ice Cream”. I didn’t believe it; it never made me happy.
All the same, there was something strange about it. Take Pimples Peterson for example. That wasn’t his real name – I just called him that because he had a lot of pimples. One day Peppi gave Peterson a purple coloured ice cream and said. "It will help you to get rid of your pimples.”
I laughed and laughed. Anyway, the next day Peterson had no pimples. The ice cream had cured his pimples.
I made up my mind to put a stop to this ice cream business. Jerome Dadian had been eating ice cream the day he got one hundred for Maths. It must have been the ice cream making him smart.
I knew where Peppi kept his van at night. So at about eleven o’clock I crept out of the house. I opened the door with a crowbar and shone my torch around inside. I had never seen so many tubs of ice cream before. Right at the end of the van were four bins with locks on them. I went over and had a look. These were his special flavours.