He clutched his book and briefcase, came out of the shadow of the subway kiosk, and walked up the street.

It was hot for September, and dry. The leaves were falling early and a hot wind came up and blew grit in his face and mouth; paper sailed up out of the gutter and clung to his legs. He pulled it away and kept walking. If he looked up at the nice old graystones instead of down at the mess, the street was still pretty, he thought. He was next to the old Shapiro house when he noticed three boys—sixteen or seventeen—keeping pace with him across the street. They glanced quickly at him, then looked away. He walked faster, they did too; then he slowed down and so did they. He thought he heard one of them giggle, and his heart started racing. He stopped and pretended to study the front of one of the houses, and when he looked again, they had crossed the street and were standing across the sidewalk between him and the lights on Nostrand half a block away.

They came toward him, walking in step; they were grinning, and still clutching his briefcase and book, he turned to run back to the protection of the subway. But there were two more boys behind him, blocking his way. He froze and all five advanced on him and circled him like children playing Hi Ho the Merrio, with Adam as the cheese.

One boy broke the circle and came close to Adam. He had his hand out away from his body and Adam saw he had an open knife in it. He was a handsome boy, with black, wavy hair, blue eyes, and a silky mustache just starting to grow. But he was very thin, and Adam thought desperately, They’re hungry, that’s all, just hungry kids. They’d take his money, about thirty dollars, then they’d run away to buy food with it.

The blue-­eyed boy half crouched like a knife fighter in a movie. “Turn ’em out, Jew,” he said.

Adam didn’t know what he meant, and he didn’t move.

“The pockets, Jew. Turn ’em out.”

Adam turned his pockets inside out. Change spilled and rolled, but the boys didn’t bother with it. His keys fell and his handkerchief fluttered to the sidewalk. One boy stepped closer to Adam and pulled his jacket open. He felt in the inside pocket, then snapped his knife open and, looking into Adam’s eyes, he slashed the jacket lining and outside pockets.

“The watch,” said blue-­eyes.

Adam gave them the watch, and they passed it around. Then one said, “He’s got a ring.”