Peeking out from behind the wall at the street corner, Alessandro observed the small group of boys intent on cheering on the LED-lit sidewalk.

The three dirt bikes that had just appeared down the street suddenly accelerated as they roared toward the crosswalk that bisected the roadway. It was a head-to-head race, where none of the competitors had a large enough lead that they could afford to make mistakes or slow down.

The challenge seemed destined to end in a tie, but when it was now just fifty meters to the finish line, the bike in the center suddenly surged, and even if only by a very small margin, that knockout move allowed its driver to cross the crosswalk first.

Enthusiastic ovations and exclamations of discouragement rose from the waiting spectators on the sidewalk as one of the boys went by to distribute the betting money to the lucky winners. The festivities went on for a while longer, but eventually most of those present preferred to scatter, going their separate ways.

The ominous rumbling that rose from his stomach, while the remaining boys lit a cigarette, convinced Alessandro to overcome the last resistances that still tried to prevent him from coming out into the open. And so, after silently reciting for the umpteenth time the various points of the plan he had jotted down in his mind, he took a deep breath, and came out of his hiding place.

The sun had been down for more than two hours, although not all the streetlights facing the road were working as they should. A couple of them had flickering lights and one was not really lit. In any case, both the benches and the dried-up fountain in the small park behind the sidewalk could still be seen quite well.

As he was crossing the deserted street, a gust of icy wind hit Alessandro full force, yet it failed to wring even a small reaction from him. Among the countless new things he had discovered over the past week in fact, the cold did not seem able to bother him in any way, to the point that he struggled to find the difference between the temperature he felt inside the house and outside.

There were four young people who had decided to stay in the area, and among them could be seen the winner of the clandestine race, easily recognized because of the motorcycle parked behind him. When they saw him coming toward them, the members of the group all turned their eyes in his direction, but Alessandro was not the least bit surprised.

Because of his own size, going as unnoticed as a triceratops in the library was something he had long since learned to live with.

''Hey,'' he exclaimed, as soon as he reached them.

A boy with brown hair impregnated with gel squared him with condescension, before responding in turn with a: ''hey''

With the exception of an obese boy his age, they were all older than him. At least in terms of age of registry. Alessandro had anticipated this. That was part of the reason why he had cleaned up his face, also taking advantage of the circumstance to assume a somewhat more mature appearance. If nothing else, the hint of a beard sprouting from his acne-free cheeks would make it much more difficult to recognize him in a hypothetical future encounter.

''You like betting, don't you?" he asked in a practical tone.

The greasy-haired boy took a drag from the lit cigarette and expelled a large cloud of smoke aiming into the air. Alessandro smelled the stench, but decided to ignore it.

''It may well be,'' he admitted vaguely. ''So what?''

''How about a speed race?" proposed Alessandro, going straight to the point. ''Race around the block. Just one lap.''

"And where is the motorcycle?

''No bike,'' he replied dryly. ''Foot race.''

The boy looked astonished, but recovered almost immediately, then turned toward his companions. Responding to the look directed at him by his friend, a 20-year-old black man with shaved hair curved his lips into a smile.

''It can be done,'' he said nonchalantly, before taking a sip from the bottle of beer he was carrying.

"Mail?" asked the boy, returning his focus to Alessandro.

''Three hundred euros,'' he immediately replied.

''That's a lot of money,'' he commented slyly. ''Do you have it with you?''

''No, but I have this.''

He slipped his hand into his coat pocket and handed him his own Smartphone. As soon as he had laid his eyes on it the boy gave into a mocking laugh.

'''This junk will be worth fifty Euros pulled,'' he sentenced dismissively, handing the cell phone back to him. ''Try again with someone dumber.''

He took another puff from the lit cigarette and blew the smoke on him. Ignoring the gesture Alessandro took off the overloaded backpack he carried on his back and placed it in front of his shoes.

''It's full of books,'' he explained, pointing to the folder. ''They look like new and I don't underline. If you take them to one of those chains that do secondhand pickup they will pay you well for them.''

''Did you mistake us for a pawn shop?" blurted the boy acidly. ''And it's not enough anyway.''

Alessandro gritted his teeth but forced himself to remain calm. He could not afford to burn that opportunity. Enduring another night squirming in bed would certainly have driven him mad.

''I am willing to do anything,'' he admitted, tucking the Smartphone back into his pocket.

The boy raised an eyebrow.

''To everything, you say?

''You propose, I listen,'' Alessandro confirmed, keeping his gaze on the road.

Members of the group exchanged looks of understanding, although in the end it was always the usual guy who did the talking.

''Let's do this.

He took a puff from his cigarette and blew out a cloud of smoke mixed with condensation.

''If you win you get the money, but if you lose you give us Smartphone and folder as collateral, and then you go to GameLand nearby. Once inside get a five hundred Euro console and bring it to us within half an hour at the most. When it gets close to closing time the employees are less responsive, so it shouldn't be too difficult.''

He took another puff, holding the smoke in his lungs for a few seconds longer than usual.

''In case you manage not to get caught you will get your stuff back, plus we will also give you a hundred for your trouble. However, if you dare to drag one of the clerks or a carabinieri cruiser all the way here we will deny to the bitter end and you will be left in the shit alone.''

She pointed the two fingers with which she was holding the cigarette at him.

"Clear?

It was obvious that they had taken him for a drug addict on the verge of withdrawal, because only an idiot with the IQ of a toolbox could seriously have been taken in by such a proposal.

However, he needed that money, and since he knew he was mathematically certain to win, it was not at all difficult for Alessandro to simply answer concisely, without making a fuss.

''Deal''

The shiny-haired man smiled.

"Okay, then. He took one last puff from his cigarette, and after tossing the now-worn butt to the sidewalk, he squished it under his shoe. ''Joseph, do you feel ready?" he asked, turning to the black boy on his left.

''A walk,'' these replied, craning their necks.

Having determined the route along which they would run, Alessandro therefore took his place on the edge of the sidewalk, where he stood motionless, staring at the mouth of the road in front of him.

The route was short and terribly simple. All he had to do was dart past the freshly repainted apartment building, continue to the intersection, turn right around the block, and then return to the starting point, right next to the crosswalk that crossed the roadway.

It was impossible to make a mistake. The only thing he had to pay attention to was not to overdo the sprint. His goal remained to win, not to shatter an Olympic record.

One of the guys in the group, a tall guy with the hood of his sweatshirt down and a cigarette in his mouth, advanced a few steps into the middle of the street and addressed the two participants.

"On the count of three. He shot an eloquent glance at Alessandro. ''And no false starts,'' he added in a cautionary tone.

Alessandro nodded and bent his right knee slightly, preparing for the now imminent departure.

''I prefer the Xbox,'' Joseph whispered to him as he imitated, ''so, take that when you go to GameLand, okay?''

''Count on it,'' Alessandro replied, sketching a smile.

The young man refereeing took a long puff from the cigarette, and after blowing out the smoke began to count.

''One, two...''

Alessandro gritted his teeth. His muscles were as tight as violin strings.

"Three!

Giving himself a boost by pressing the edge of the sidewalk, Alessandro sprinted forward and set off in the direction of the intersection. Realizing that he was advancing too fast, he then tried to close the gap with the challenger, but when he heard a sound of footsteps echoing behind him, he quickly changed his mind.

Other than fast, Joseph was catching up with him.

Panicked Alessandro immediately redoubled his efforts, and once he had turned right he continued running without daring to look back.

By the time he emerged onto the road from which he had started, the guy with gel-fixed hair was lighting a cigarette, however, as soon as he saw Alessandro stop his race by skidding in front of him, it slipped from his lips, only to go out on the asphalt.

''What the fuck...''

Confused by the boys' stunned expressions, Alessandro quickly turned around, and then he understood. Motionless as a statue, Joseph stared incredulously at him in front of the intersection he himself had passed through only seconds earlier, clearly unable to process what he had just seen.

Meanwhile, a man in his 50s, dressed in a winter jogging suit, walked past the boy without stopping, continuing to trot impassively along the right side of the sidewalk. He was responsible for the noise that Alessandro had suddenly heard shortly after the start, mistaking it for the approaching rival, when in fact it was just a runner leaving the house for his evening jog.

Almost as shocked as the rest of the group by the tragic mistake he had made, Alessandro remained silent for a while, patiently waiting with the others for Joseph's return. At that point, however, also aided by a tremendous hunger pang, he put his backpack back on his shoulder, preparing to wrap things up. If the damage was now done, he might as well reap the benefits and disappear.

''Well, I won.'' And having finished his announcement, he showed the open palm to those present. ''Now the money.''

''Forget it,'' said the boy with greasy hair.

The dirty look with which Alessandro glowered at him seemed to intimidate him.

"I beg your pardon?" he asked acerbically.

''You must have cheated,'' Joseph ran to his rescue. ''You are obviously made of something.'' He nodded with conviction. ''Something very heavy.''

Alessandro burst out laughing, although none of those present were the least bit affected. His in fact was a strange, almost eerie laugh.

''I've never smoked a cigarette in my life, let alone know how to inject an anabolic,'' he retorted in a dismissive tone, just before reaching out again with his open palm. ''Come on, hurry up, I don't want to waste any more time.''

''You were going too fast for it to be natural,'' the winner of the underground race pointed out to him. ''I wouldn't have beaten you even on a motorcycle.''

''You can tell you have a crappy bike,'' he blurted acidly.

The boy frowned in a hostile frown, but Alessandro sustained his grim look without any difficulty. By now he didn't care about showing courtesy or unprovoking. He would either leave from there with the prize money or not return at all.

Because the motorcycle guy was clenching his fists, the shiny-haired comrade stepped in to calm him down by resting a hand on his shoulder.

''Just look at the junkie's nerve,'' he hissed with strafing.

''You thought I was a junkie in withdrawal even before,'' retorted Alessandro staring at him in transfixion, ''but you accepted anyway because you hoped to win hands down. If it went badly for you, that's your problem, not mine.''

He opened his palm for the third time.

''Now stop with the excuses and kick out the money,'' he ordered acidly.

''You cheated,'' Joseph reiterated, shaking his head, ''we won't give you a penny.''

Alessandro's eyes shrank to slits as a burning rage worked its way inside him, pervading every fiber of his being.

''Let's make another bet, then,'' he said nonchalantly.

The boys looked at him confused, but Alessandro continued before they could raise any objections.

''Whoever makes the other spit his teeth out first wins,'' he hissed menacingly.

At first the leader of the small group widened his eyes in amazement, but already a couple of moments later his lips curved into a mocking smile. His challenger might have been big, but there were four of them.

''Do you want to end up in the hospital?" he asked sarcastically.

"And you want to end up in a coffin?" growled Alessandro.

Unable to hold back any longer, the boy with the motorcycle stepped forward and grabbed him by the lapel of his jacket.

"Who do you think you are, asshole!" he ranted, trying to yank him.

Alessandro, however, did not move an inch. Instead he grabbed the attacker's wrist tightening it in a vise, and after forcing his arm away, he began to squeeze.

The boy let out a terrible scream and immediately tried to wriggle out of his grip, but despite his efforts Alessandro's grip did not loosen in the slightest. In a fit of rage the victim used his free hand to hit him with a fist in the middle of the face, which, however, achieved no effect other than to further intensify the pressure on his arm.

A sinister creaking sound rose from inside the limb.

Shrieking and crying, the boy collapsed to his knees on the sidewalk as his companions watched the scene petrified. Although terrified as much as the others, Joseph made to intervene, but before he could even get his foot off the ground Alessandro glowered at him with a look so threatening that it forced him to flinch back.

In addition to exuding an anger difficult even to imagine, his eyes had now turned bright red.

Meanwhile, as his victim continued to cry and scream on the sidewalk, Alessandro bent toward the boys and broke the silence.

"Give me the fucking money!" he ordered, uncovering his teeth.

The voice with which he spoke was something simply monstrous. Grim and sinister bordering on human. At just hearing it the people present ran an icy chill down their spines.

''Fucking Maximus, pay him!" blurted the obese boy in panic.

Caught off guard, as if he had been jolted awake, the shiny-haired man jerked in fright.

''Okay, okay, let's pay,'' he stammered nervously.

He slipped his hand into his coat pocket, and after retrieving his wallet, pulled out some fifty-euro bills, plus others in smaller sizes.

''Here is your money,'' he said, handing it to Alessandro with a trembling hand. ''Now, however, go away.''

With a lightning gesture Alessandro snatched the money from his hand, thus freeing the young man.

''It's about time,'' he commented acerbically.

And without even looking at the boy, who was groaning on the sidewalk holding his fractured wrist, he turned sharply, then striding back to the same narrow street from which he had come.

Of what happened next Alessandro did not remember much. One of the few things he was certain of was that as soon as he reached the nearest convenience store the closing time was approaching dangerously.

Recovering a random cart by forcibly ripping off the anti-shoplifting chain, he then entered the interior of the superMarcoet and filled it to bursting. Having looted the cheese section, he headed to the section reserved for breakfast cookies, and last to the candy and snack section.

At that point, having racked up enough calories to sustain a battalion for a month, he darted to the cash register and handed the clerk all the money he had on him. Having gone over budget by a few tens of euros, to his dismay he was forced to give up a wheel of Brie and two large jars of Nutella, but even taking those small sacrifices into account, he was still able to keep the vast majority of the load intact.

Now he just needed to find a secluded place to eat it without being seen. Besides, he would have been crazy to do it in the middle of the street, but he couldn't go too far away either. If he was not home by nine o'clock, his parents would scold him.

Fortunately for him, however, a half-hidden alleyway straddling a closed pharmacy and the superMarcoet parking lot meant he did not have to waste any more time searching.

The binge he allowed himself as soon as he finished parking the cart was something cathartic. Gulping down food as efficiently as a fattening bear, Alessandro devoured cheese, cookies, candy, snacks, and various sweets, using only his hands as cutlery, until the only thing left in the cart were the now-empty plastic and paper packages.

Eventually, after disappearing even the last nut chocolate bar, Alessandro slumped against the small wall of the alley, then let himself slide to the ground next to his backpack.

The hunger that had plagued him over the past week was still there; however, it was no longer an irrepressible and polarizing need, but only a moderate pang. Unpleasant, annoying perhaps, but tolerable.

Now freed from that immense burden, for a while Alessandro sat on the ground, merely staring vacantly at the peeling concrete wall in front of him, then, all of a sudden, his face relaxed, allowing a smile of genuine satisfaction to surface on his lips.

''Much...much better,'' he commented in a whisper.