OK so I'm rich! What of it? Lot's of other kids are rich too. Anyway, I can't help it. My Dad's had a lot of success with his business. You can blame him if you want.

Or would you rather I was poor? I could come to school in worn-out clothes, and eat dry bread. Would that make you feel better?

Besides, being rich has its advantages. Like yesterday, when I was late for school and there was a traffic jam. I ordered a helicopter, went up an elevator, walked out on the roof and flew over the city. I landed in the school grounds ten minutes later. What an entrance! You should have seen the kids drooling.

But it's not all fun. I've got myself into some pretty dangerous scrapes. Some people see me and think, "Ah! Let's kidnap him and collect some big bucks!" Now that's not something I go looking for.

But guess what? It happened today . . . well, it would happen today! Of all days! I was walking along the street, minding my own business, doing a bit of shopping, when two guys jumped me and hauled me off to their car. I was thrown in the back seat and held down by someone else, and a gag was shoved in my mouth. The two guys jumped into the car and we took off. What a crazy drive! I expected a cop to catch us any moment but we got right through town without a siren blowing. (That was the first suspicious thing, when I thought about it afterwards.)

"Get out!" they said after we'd stopped. I got out. They took the gag off. I was in a garage or something, with red bricks all round, except the door. (No such thing as a brick door is there!) I was shoved along from behind till I got to a room with a chair, a bench and a hot-water heater. Grubby wasn't the word for that place.

"Sit!" said the man who had been shoving me.

I sat.

"How much money has your Dad got?"

"I don't know," I said truthfully.

"Millions?"

"Probably."

"Right!" said me man. He rubbed his chin with his hand. His face was round and he had the start of a beard on it. His hair could have done with a wash too. My Mum wouldn't have liked him.