The cattle and carts rattled and clattered down Cockbill Street filling the busy thoroughfare with noise. Unnoticed by the cattle drivers and the animals the two boys sat on the dusty pavement, one of them eating an apple. The other eyed the fruit hungrily.

"Ah, come on Iffy. Just let me have a bite," wheedled the fruitless one.

"Not a chance, Vimesy!" said Iffy through a mouthful of apple, "You were just too slow."

The one known as Vimesy bore this patiently despite his grumbling stomach and skinny appearance. Iffy was a year older than him and despite being only seven had a reputation for being 'cool.' Simply being seen with Iffy was going to increase young Vimes's street credibility for a considerable amount of time. It was thanks to his mother really that Vimes was here at all, living next door she had introduced Sam to Iffy's mother as 'a playmate of around the same age' and as ususal the boys had been sent out into the street to play together.

"Fancy a game of Dead Rat Conkers?" said Vimes, trying to drag his gaze away from the apple being slowly devoured.

"Nah," said Iffy, "There's William Scuggins. Let's go play hopscotch." Iffy stood up and threw the core away, and Vimes followed him across the street to the chalk outline, where Scuggins was already lying on squares four and five, frothing at the mouth as usual.

Vimes was /good/ at Ankh-Morpork hopscotch and Iffy watched impressed as the smaller boy hopped and spun his way up and down the chalk grid. He kept poker-faced, however as a victorious Vimes turned to him for approval. "Hhm." Iffy said and then took a little pity as the small boy's face fell. "Good."

"Oi!" shouted someone further up the street, Scuggins had obviously been noticed and the children scarpered,

Vimes fell into step behind Iffy. "Our Mam says you go to the school down the road," said Vimes, "What's it like?"

"S'alright," said Iffy after a few moments thought, "If you keep out of the way of the bigger lads. Why, are you going?"

Vimes looked proud. "Yeah," he said, "Our Mam says I can start next week. She's seen Dame Bridges about it."

Iffy looked sideways at the younger boy and made an executive decision. "Fancy walking to school with me?"

Vimes's wide eyes and sudden smile gave Iffy all the answer he needed and he laughed. "Yes please!" breathed Sam Vimes.



Sam Vimes's mother wiped his nose and pulled the too small shirt down to a more respectable level. "You be good, our Sam," she said, "Make your Dad proud."

Vimes nodded. "Yes Mam," he said as his hair was brushed flat.

"Now, off you go with Iffy. Be careful!"

"He will, Mrs. Vimes!" said Iffy cheerfully and he took Sam Vimes by the shoulder. "Come on, we've got to run."

"Why?" said Vimes.

"'Cos we want to get there early," explained Iffy.

They hurried into the school yard and Vimes was herded towards the smallest classroom. "This is where Dame Bridges teaches. You stay in her class until you're ten. And then Mr. Parkes takes you 'till you're fourteen."

"Right," said Vimes and he was herded into his seat.

"Wait here," advised Iffy, "Ev'ryone'll come in in half a minute. Just sit here."

"Okay," said Vimes and waited.



School wasn't what young Vimes had expected. He was fairly good at reading, 'riting and 'rithmatic for a boy raised in Cockbill Street but he was not very adept at avoiding the bullies that ruled the school yard. Iffy helped him when he could, but it was hard for the new kid to avoid them. His mother said nothing about the bruises, as was the Cockbill Street way, as was the /Vimes/ way. You looked after yourself and you never asked for nothing from nobody, least of all from your mother. Vimes knew that he would have to learn to sort out the problem for himself.

And so he was running for his life again, trying to make it home before the impossibly long-legged pursuers caught him and administered the ritual beating. Vimes didn't think he could stand another night sewing his torn shirts and he ran as fast as his short legs could carry him.

It was not going to be fast enough. They were close behind him as he sprinted around the corner. "Hey!" someone yelled and Vimes saw Iffy waving at him from the back of a cart. He leapt up onto the back of the cart and hid behind the boxes where Iffy was concealed. "Thanks," he whispered.

"You owe me one," said Iffy and Sam nodded. Of course, that was how things were supposed to go. No one did anything for nothing.

The other boys had caught up and slid to a halt, wondering where their quarry had gone. Sam Vimes had been busy looking at the contents of the boxes. It was a squishy red fruit. Tomatoes. He slipped his hand into one of the boxes and drew back his arm, taking aim...

"Sam!" hissed Iffy, "You can't!"

"Shut up Iffy," said Vimes firmly and drew back his arm again.

Splat! The tomato hit the tallest of the boys on the back of his head.

"Hey!" shouted someone. Splat! Another tomato hit him in the mouth.

"I can't believe you're doing this!" said Iffy.

"Come on!" said Vimes letting another tomato fly. Iffy picked up a tomato gingerly and then threw it with a cry.

"Oi!" someone yelled and Vimes looked up to see the probable owner of the cart running straight towards them.

"Run!" Iffy cried.

"No," said Vimes, "I've got a better idea. We're only small. If we get into the boxes we might escape without a pasting from that lot." He nodded towards the older boys.

Iffy looked from the boys heading towards them, dripping tomato and then at the face of the cart driver. The driver hadn't seen the two lads on the cart, only those on the street and Iffy grinned suddenly. Vimes was already clambering into a box, the fruit squishing underneath him. Iffy jumped into the box beside him and they crouched on the smashed fruit.

"Y'know Vimesy, everyone round here reckons you're simple. But I'm beginning to think summat else."

"Thanks," whispered Vimes as a lurch meant the cart had started to move. Iffy risked a glance over the top of the box.

"We let it go on a few more streets and then we jump off," he said.

"Okay," said Vimes.

"One, two, three, JUMP!"

They hit the street and rolled back onto their feet. "Hey, Sam," said Iffy, "You're covered in tomato."

"You too," said Sam and they both started to laugh uncontrollably.

"You don't have any brothers do you Sam?" asked Iffy when they had stopped laughing.

"No," replied Vimes, "Do you?"

"Loads," said Iffy, "But I don't like 'em. Do you want to be my brother instead?"

"Yeah, alright," said Vimes, grinning yet more broadly. Iffy held out his hand and Vimes shook it gingerly. The tomato juice dribbled down their arms and Iffy laughed again. "Looks like blood, doesn't it?"

"Yeah," said Vimes.

"So now we're blood brothers, like."

"Yeah," said Vimes again, this time with even more enthusiasm.