Lenny Jensen was fat and two years older than I was. His facial fat made his eyes squint, and what Lenny looked at, what had his attention and concern at every moment, was the victim. Lenny only smiled when he was in the act of inflicting pain upon some kid smaller, younger, and helpless.
I was the first kid on and the last kid off the bus. I rode at least an hour to school and an hour to get home, making the day long and miserably hot in August and achingly cold in the January. Lenny lived closer to the school, and so the time actually available for torment was precious to him, and he had to accrue the best benefit from the twenty minutes each way.
He would sit behind some kid four or five years younger and half his size. Lenny would flick his victim’s ear as hard as he could repeatedly
