“I don’t want any trouble,” Billy said. A few kids nearby snickered but I didn’t say anything. I had learned that in these situations silence was better than words. Billy was a small kid with a large, pear-shaped head. Pimples covered his face, especially on his forehead, where they appeared to overlap, leaving no healthy skin.

I held out my hand palm up. “Give it to me,” I said.

“It’s my money,” he said and pushed his hands deeper into his pockets. Billy was new and didn’t understand how this played out. I’d given him a little slack, but he had to know that he could push me only so far.

“You have three seconds,” I said. Billy’s eyes looked past me pleading for help. I didn’t need to look to know that nobody would help him. He would have to get used to this if he was going to fit in. We all have people we have to pay. Our job was to figure out where we fit in the pyramid and who to pay. When I first saw Billy, I knew where he fit in.

“Three,” I said. Billy tried to run past me and I pushed him back against the corner. He fell back and sat down with his knees in front of him. His hands were still in his pockets and I saw tears.

“Two,” I said. Billy bowed his head and sniffled. His knees blocked his face. He pulled his hand out of his pocket. He closed his fist over something, and for his sake, I hoped it was his money.

“One,” I said. Billy stood up and held out the money.

“Take it,” he said. His face was wet and he wouldn’t look at me.

I continued to hold out my palm. “Put it in there,” I said.

He looked up at me and I saw the anger and humiliation in his face. I used to take much more pleasure from this moment. These contests were a battle of wills. Fists came into it sometimes, but then the winner was easier to determine.

He placed the money in my palm and I stepped aside to let him pass.