“Could you use a messenger boy, mister?”

“Beat it. We got too many kids already.”

“I could use the work, mister, I’d work any time you say. I got the board money.” He took out one of the ten-dollar bills and smoothed it on the counter. The man’s eyes glared at it quickly, then jerked away again. “We got too many kids.”

The bench creaked and footsteps came up behind Billy and a boy spoke, his voice thick with restrained anger.

“Is this Chink bothering you, Mr. Burgger?” Billy thrust the money back into his pocket and held tightly to it.

“Sit down, Roles,” the man said. “You know my rule about trouble or fighting.”

He glared at the two boys and Billy could guess what the rule was and knew that he wouldn’t be working here unless he did something quickly.

“Thank you for letting me talk to you, Mr. Burgger,” he said, innocently, as he felt back with his heel and jammed his weight down on the boy’s toes as he turned. “I won’t bother you any more—”

The boy shouted and pain burst in Billy’s ear as the fist lashed out and caught him. He staggered and looked shocked but made no attempt to defend himself.

“All right, Roles,” Mr. Burgger said distastefully. “You’re through here, get lost.”

“But — Mr. Burgger…” he howled unhappily. “You don’t know this Chink…”

“Get out!” Mr. Burgger half rose and pointed angrily at the gaping boy. “Out!”

Billy moved to one side, unnoticed and forgotten for the moment, and knew enough not to smile. It finally penetrated to the boy that there was nothing he could do and he left — after hurling a look of burning malice at Billy — while Mr. Burgger scratched on one of the message boards.

“All right, kid, it looks like you maybe got a job. What’s your name?”

“Billy Chung.”