Wilky Trotter decided to stay on the ground because if he got up Kenny Greenwood would hit him again. It was only the first week of spring but the ground was warm and he thought he could sit there a long time, maybe even long enough for Kenny to give up and walk away.

But he couldn’t do that. Nearly every kid who took this path to and from school was watching and he didn’t want them to think he was afraid of Kenny.

Well, he was afraid of Kenny and so was everyone else in the fourth grade, because Kenny was big and strong and mean as a hungry badger.

Wilky shook his head and looked up at Kenny, who was staring down at him, his face in a snarl, his teeth bared.

Okay, Wilky thought, the smart thing to do is stay where I am and hope he attacks someone else so I can get away.

He ran a hand through his blond hair and then rubbed his chin where Kenny had hit him, surprised that it didn’t hurt.

“Com’on, get up!” Kenny shouted. “Whatsa matter? You scared?”

Slowly, Wilky got up onto his hands and knees. He took a deep breath, trying to think of a way out of getting punched again and now something in his head kept saying: run, run, he can’t catch you, run! It sounded like a plan.

He dropped to the ground, rolled away, jumped up onto his feet, and ran as fast as any cartoon rabbit. He looked back over his shoulder, expecting to see Kenny gaining on him. But Kenny hadn’t moved.

They were about fifty yards apart, half the length of a football field, when Wilky stopped.

Kenny balled his hand into a fist, shook it at him, and shouted, “COWARD!”

Wilky scratched his head. Why hadn’t Kenny chased him?

“You afraid to stand and fight?” Kenny shouted.

With fifty yards between them, Wilky felt a sudden spurt of courage. “Come and get me!”

Kenny growled and grunted and started after him.

Wilky jogged away, keeping the distance between them the same.

Kenny stopped. “COWARD!” He shouted again. “YOU’RE JUST A YELLOW COWARD!”

Wilky stared at him and then grinned and stared harder. Kenny couldn’t run. He wasn’t big and powerful, he was big and fat. Why hadn’t he seen that before?

“If you’re so tough, catch me!” Wilky called and then started walking toward Kenny. Everyone in the crowd seemed to hold their breath. It was like watching someone taunt a chained-up dog.

Kenny stood very still, waiting for his victim to get within range. Only his eyes moved, tracking Wilky as he moved slowly and steadily closer and closer. Like an enormous praying mantis, he waited.

For the watchers this was all new. Usually when someone got away from Kenny, they kept on running. No one did what Wilky was doing.

Wilky moved closer. “You’re too slow to catch anyone, Kenny.”

Kenny’s dark eyes glowed like coals in a fire. When he had cut the distance in half, Wilky stopped. “You’re slow as molasses,” he said. “You’re just a big slow bully!”

Never in his life had he been in control at a time like this and he wanted it to last. He wanted to find out how far he could go. He wanted to find out how far he could push this and still come out ahead. He also wanted some revenge for two bloody noses, a split lip, and the ten dollars worth of lunch money, Kenny had taken from him since last fall.

Wilky smiled, learned forward and chanted: “Run, run, as fast as you can, you can’t catch me I’m the Gingerbread Man!”

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