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my pockets. In one pocket is a bag of sweets; in the other is …” He spun around dramatically.
“Certain doom!”
    Penny made a small, terrified sound. She blinked up at her brother. “I pick the sweets,” she said in a tone more befitting a question.
    Alistair stood back. “No, stupid. You have to choose: Right or left? And whatever you pick, you have to eat.”
    Kip could not say for certain, but something in Alistair’s voice made him suspect that no matter which pocket the girl selected, she would lose. He watched as Penny screwed up her face, concentrating all her mental energy on determining which pocket was the winner. “I … I think it’s the left one,” she ventured after a moment.
    “Left, she says!” Alistair reached a hand into his left pocket and pulled out a fistful of something dark and stringy. The prize hung limp between his fingers, squirming slowly.
    Kip had spent enough years working in soil to know what Alistair was holding. “Earthworms,” he said under his breath. Penny gave a shriek that confirmed his suspicion.
    Alistair held the creatures over his sister’s head. “Let’s see which one reaches you first.” With a great flourish, he sprinkled the worms around the edge of the hole.
    Penny, who up until this point had been a commendable sport, broke down. “Alistair, pull me out of here.” She spun her head about, trying to keep clear of the worms blindly inching toward her. Suddenly she gave a sharp scream that surprised Kip for its sincerity. Even Alistair looked a bit taken aback. “Help!” she shrieked. “They’re getting my feet! I can feel them!”
    “You’re just being hysterical,” Alistair protested. “I can see for myself the worms have barely made it past the first layer of leaves.” He crouched down and took one of the worms between his two fingers. “Look here, all you have to do is eat one worm, and then you’re done.”
    Penny did not hear him, as she was too busy screaming about how she could feel the worms moving around her ankles. Seizing a perfect opportunity, Alistair raised the worm over her open mouth.
    Kip had seen enough. He took up his crutch, Courage, and hobbled out from behind the well. “You leave her alone!” he called, moving toward them as fast as he could.
    Alistair turned around slowly. A look of pure pleasure crept across his face. “If it isn’t our new groundskeeper!” he said. “I thought I smelled something foul.”
    Kip ignored the comment and hopped closer. Alistair took a lazy step to one side, planting himself between Kip and Penny. The two boys were now only a few feet from each other. At this range, Alistair looked even bigger. Kip swallowed, steeling himself. “She ain’t done nothin’ to deserve that. Let her go.”
    “Or else what?” Alistair said, tossing the worm aside. “One word to Mother, and you’ll be turned out—two fishy orphans, alone in the cold.”
    “I ain’t no orphan,” Kip snapped. “And you’re a bully.” His face was flushed, his free hand clenched tight in a fist. He knew talking was useless; this was going to be a fight.
    Kip was by no means a good fighter, but he had been in enough scraps to know a few tricks. The first trick was to always strike first—to guarantee he got in at least one good blow before things went bad. The second trick was to bite his tongue, as hard as he could, right before things got started. That way, when he was hit, the pain wouldn’t surprise him. The last thing, and this was important, was to level the field as quickly as possible by getting the other boy onto the ground. Down there, having only one good leg was not as much of a problem. None of these tricks had ever helped him win a fight, of course, but they usually helped him lose a little less badly.
    Kip dropped his crutch and sprang across the grass, tackling Alistair at the knees. The boy shouted out as they both came crashing down onto the wet lawn. Kip concentrated on hitting the places he knew