When the lunch bell rang, Arthur hurried from the classroom hoping he might escape them. He sped across the asphalt playground thinking he might find safety in the cafeteria line.

"Hey, ugly! What’s your hurry?”

Arthur didn't need to turn around to know it was Matt. The voice of doom.

“Wha'd ya bring us for lunch today?"

He wanted to run, but knew that would only make things worse. Taking a deep breath, he told himself he might as well get it over with.

Arthur turned and faced what had become a daily school event—his trio of tormentors. Matt, his oily-looking dark hair slicked back, stood tall, his arms folded across his pumped-up chest. No doubt a tough-guy pose he'd seen in some movie, Arthur thought. Ned and Victor, shorter, thumbs hooked into their jean pockets, stood like dumb bookends on either side of Matt.

"You deaf or what? I asked ya' a question, Mr. Brain-O-Drain-O."

Ned and Victor laughed like it was the funniest thing ever said.

Matt dropped his arms to his sides revealing the fading red letters "OR WHAT?" on his tee shirt.
What misery have they planned for me today, Arthur worried. "I…I didn't bring a lunch today.” He hated that his voice showed his fear.

Matt cocked his head, narrowed cold eyes, and frowned at Arthur. "No lunch? Bull taco. What you tryin' to pull?"

"Nothing. I—I just meant, I'm buying lunch today."

"Hey, hear that? Mr. Brains is gonna buy us lunch today." Matt faked a smile.

Arthur wished he could poke a stick in the gap between Matt’s two front teeth. "No, I meant..."
Before he could finish, the three boys surrounded Arthur. The sneers of Ned and Victor looked even uglier as they chewed and popped gum with their mouths half-opened.

Arthur sensed the dreaded, demeaning encounter to come. He wanted so much to grab Ned's curly yellow hair in one hand and Victor's nearly shaved head in the other and bang them together like orchestra cymbals.

But the brief image fled as Matt put his face closer to Arthur’s. "How much money did you bring us for lunch? We're pretty hungry."

Arthur winced. Matt hadn’t brushed his teeth.

“Yeah. How much?” Ned repeated. Arthur thought “pig” when he looked at Ned’s nose.

Before Arthur could answer, his arms were twisted and pinned behind him. He could smell and feel Ned's fading bubble-gum breath on the back of his neck. Eyes watering with pain, he gave in to them with no struggle, hating himself more than his bullies.

Victor grabbed Arthur's glasses, leaving Arthur even more disadvantaged. Squinting, he could tell it was Matt rifling through his pockets. He prayed Matt didn't rip his pants. He didn't want to have to explain this to his parents.

Then Matt found the money.

"Ah, here we are," he said as he unfolded the bill. Then he frowned. "A dollar? That's it? That won't feed three hungry dudes like us." Matt stuck his face right up to Arthur's. "Listen, skinny-ninny, tomorrow, you'd better do better. Food, money, or your nose." He grabbed Arthur’s nose and twisted it.

Ned let Arthur loose with a shove. "Yeah, nerd."

"Here, four-eyes," Victor said, pushing Arthur's glasses into his chest. "These dumb things don't do me no good."

When Arthur put on his Victor-smeared glasses, he watched all three of them shake their heads at him, knowing they saw him as some pathetic, wormy little creature.

Laughing, the three boys turned and left Arthur standing in the school yard with no lunch money—only anger, confusion, frustration, and disgust with himself for being a wimpy wimp.
Again.

Arthur rubbed a little circulation back in his arms, then picked up his pad and pen Matt had pulled from his pocket. At least they hadn’t torn his notes. He liked to write down new words and dates he wanted to remember.

Since lunch period was over for him, he headed back to the classroom where he felt more in control.
On his way, Arthur discussed his problem with himself.

"I guess I am pathetic, just like they think."

—Come on, now. Do you really think you are?

"I don't know. I never thought so before those guys entered the picture."

—And now?

"I don't like what's happening to me."

—So, what are you going to do about it?

"I don't know. But I can't let it go on."

—What can you do? Three to one, you know.

"Believe me, I know. But I've got to come up with something."

—Better be soon. It’s money, food or your nose.

Once afternoon class started, Arthur couldn’t shake three questions that kept running through his head.

"Why are those guys picking on me?"

"What did I ever do to them?"

"Why do I take it?"

No answers came.

But he did answer the questions that no one else in the class could.

Like during geography, when Miss Perb asked the class to name the fifty states, he was the only one who could. And in alphabetical order. Plus, he knew that when it was winter in the northern hemisphere, it was summer in the southern hemisphere.

Then when Annette misspelled Albuquerque on the board, he corrected her. She didn’t even know it was in New Mexico.

And in math, he came up with the answer to 15 X 670 faster than Natalie, who used a calculator. It was easy. Ten times 670 is 6700, then add half of 6700, which is 3,350, for 10,050.

He liked knowing the answers, but he didn’t like the groan of others when he did. Especially the noises Matt made.

But by the end of the day, he still didn't have answers to the most important questions—his own. Why did they dislike him so much? What did he ever do to them?

As Arthur left school, Matt caught his eye from across the room. He pointed a finger at Arthur and mouthed the words, "Tomorrow or else."

Then he moved a finger across his throat.