"C'mon, four-eyes, let's have it." Brian extended a hand, impatiently working the fingers, demanding and expectant. It was Sheldon's turn again, the day's target for the ritual lunch money shakedown.

"I brought my lunch today." Sheldon stood up and gestured lamely at his lunchbox.

Brian's fingers curled, the hand became a fist. "I bet you're going to wish you hadn't, loser." The fist drew back. Some part of Sheldon's mind noted with relief that it was leaving, withdrawing to a safe distance. Brian merely pulled it back so he could plunge it forward with more force. He punched Sheldon savagely in the stomach and laughed as the smaller boy doubled over and fell to the asphalt.

"You owe me, dickwad. Better believe it. That was just a sample of what you're gonna get."

It was a Spring day, a Monday, the first day of the week but the last day of school, the start of summer vacation. Everyone in the world was celebrating. For Sheldon it meant weeks and weeks before he might have to face Brian Sanderseer again. His stomach still ached.

Sheldon had taken a circuitous route from school, just in case Brian had been waiting for him to finish the job. It was almost four o'clock by the time he arrived home, but instead of going in he continued to the house next door. Elderly Mrs. Schtankawicz answered when he knocked, a goblinly tall woman so old her mere proximity drained the color from other things, rendering them drab and lifeless. She smiled at Sheldon, and opened the door to let him in. "Ira's upstairs in his room, Sheldon. You go right on up, he'll be glad to see you." Her voice was musical; it always made Sheldon think of wind chimes, and every time she spoke he had to look right at her. It was impossible to believe that voice could come from such a gaunt figure.

The Schtankawicz house was very dim, with darkly polished wood everywhere, dense gray carpeting on the floors, and heavy glum paintings filling the walls. Without a word Sheldon climbed the stairs, his hand sliding along the freshly oiled railing. Ira's room was at the end of the hall. The door was open and light spilled over the threshold. Sheldon stepped across it.

Everything was brighter in Ira's room. The curtains were pulled back and fresh air wafted in through the windows, lightly scented by the flowers climbing the trellis below. Ira was propped up in bed, frail and emaciated, he wheezed softly. A green translucent tube ran from a plug under his nose to an oxygen tank on the far side of the bed. The tank was huge. Sheldon wondered how Mr. and Mrs. Schtankawicz managed to get it up the stairs.

Ira turned toward the door and smiled faintly as Sheldon entered. He lifted one hand in a weak wave and let it drop.