I Scream, You Scream
　　　　　　　　　　　　　Terry Black

I swear to God, I had no idea what was going to happen. I know I lied and snuck around and maybe even broke the law, but I never would have wrecked the store and got the cops out here and everything if I hadn’t been scared for my life.
See, it all started when I was flipping baseball cards at recess with Joey Daniels, my next-door next-door neighbor and best friend even though he’s kind of a jerk sometimes. I was trying to get his Darryl Strawberry without losing my Sammy Sosa, but Joey he always tries to distract you at the worst possible moment so he goes, “I know something you don’t know.”
And I said shut up, but Joey, he says he heard a secret from one of the big kids and he’s not supposed to tell anyone, not even me. So I go, “What is it?” and he goes, “I’m not telling.” And I go, “Come on,” and finally he says it’s about Fenton’s Food Mart on Latham Street, where Mom always goes shopping because of the double coupons. And Joey says he knows the reason, the real reason, why the only flavor of ice cream they every have at Fenton’s is Praline Peach Delight.
Now, me and Charles, he’s my brother, we hate Praline Peach, it tastes like frozen vomit, and we always wish they’d get some new flavors in. My mom, she said it’s because Mr. Fenton accidentally ordered one hundred half-gallons instead of ten half-gallons, and he can’t order any more ice cream until the Praline Peach is all used up. Which’ll be never, probably, because nobody wants to buy frozen vomit, least of all my mom.

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