oming along the corridor is a kid who’s got to be the smallest kid in the school. He’s like a butter menthol with four limbs. When someone slams a door further down the corridor this kid almost gets blown over.

You give a deep sigh. He’s not going to be much use. But he surprises you. He walks straight up and says, ‘What seems to be the problem here?’

He’s got a big deep voice that gets your attention.

‘Uh, no problem,’ you say. ‘Just this maniac here who thinks he owns the school.’

The little guy looks up at the refrigerator on legs who, you’re amazed to see, is now hanging his head and looking a bit embarrassed.

‘Now now, Cedric,’ he says, ‘that’s enough. Go to class.’ You nearly fall over when Cedric immediately shuffles away down the corridor.

‘Wow, how did you do that?’ you ask.

He shrugs. ‘Not a problem. I know what Cedric values most in life, and I keep him supplied with it.’

You ask the obvious question: ‘What does Cedric value most in life?’

‘Basketball cards.’

‘Basketball cards?’

‘That’s right.’

‘But. . .but how do you control the supply of basketball cards?’

‘I have special access to them,’ he says mysteriously. ‘At the end of this week I’m considering giving Cedric an Abdul B.B. Amir card.’

‘Abdul B.B. Amir. Wow.’

You begin to realise that there’s more to this kid than meets the eye. There’d want to be, because there’s not much that meets the eye. As you start walking down the corridor together you ask him: ‘Who is Cedric anyway?’

‘Cedric’s repeating for about the eleventh year. He’s the oldest student in the school.’

‘Yeah, he looks it.’

‘What do you most value?’ he asks you suddenly.

‘How do you mean?’

‘Well, for Cedric it’s basketball cards. What is it for you? What would you be really excited to get your hands on?’

You’re getting really weird vibes from this kid. Maybe he does have special powers or something. You hesitate, wondering what you should say.