 What should probably happen to William?
[Transcriber's Note: This etext was produced from Galaxy Science Fiction December 1959. Extensive research did not uncover any evidence that the U.S. copyright on this publication was renewed.] Not if you believe me. For punishment, he locked me in a windowless room and told me to sit still until he came back. It wasn't so bad a punishment, except that when Dad closed the door, the light turned off and I was left there in the dark. Being four or five, I didn't know any better, so I thought Dad made it dark to add to my punishment. Alone in the dark, I wouldn't have had it so bad if it wasn't for the things that came to me. Because they were real, I talked about them as if they were real, and I almost earned a bunk in the home for retarded children until I got smart enough to keep the beasts to myself. My mother and father must have been glad when I was sent away to reform school after my thirteenth birthday party, the one If you believe any of this at all, you'll see why it couldn't be me who did the stealing. Partridge didn't seem to notice me, but I knew that was an act. Some skin-and-bones character I didn't know struggled out of his seat, amening. As soon as I got cleaned up, I was going to have dinner in a good restaurant, and I was going to order such expensive food and leave such a large tip for the waiter and send one to the chef that they were going to think I was rich, and some executive with some brokerage firm would see me and say to himself, "Hmm, executive material. I beg your pardon, sir—" just like the razor-blade comic-strip ads in the old magazines that Frankie the Pig sells three for a quarter. Even Partridge made his way down from the auctioneer's stand like a vulture with a busted wing and darted through his private door. Crockery was ringing and men were slurping inside. Following the wallboard, I went down the side of the room and behind the last row of chairs, closer, closer, and halfway up the room again to the entrance—the entrance and the little wooden box fastened to the wall beside it. But I couldn't lose that money, especially that century bill. The box was fastened to the vertical tongue-and-groove laths of the woodwork, not the wall.
 he should seek professional help
 he should find out who killed the man  he should find a job with the labor union  he should try to reconnect with his parents  he should seek professional help