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he wasn’t embarrassing himself.
    â€œSurely, just reading the material isn’t grounds for expulsion.” This from another bystander, a tall chap with a beak nose and ears like pitcher handles. He gestured to the pamphlet Sam had taken away from Nat. “If you don’t want to be accused of being a dictator, perhaps you shouldn’t behave like one.”
    The convention chairman cast him an angry glare, and in that moment of distraction, the girl moved in. “May I have one of those, please?” she asked the kid, politely holding out her hand. “I’d like to see what it says.”
    The kid grinned and started to give her a pamphlet, but Sam blocked him. “Oh no, you don’t! Try that again, and I’m throwing you out with the rest of the Futurians!”
    â€œOh yeah? Then how come you let Asimov in?” He pointed to a fellow wearing a bow tie who stood nearby. “He’s one of them too, y’know.”
    â€œHey, leave me out of this,” Asimov said.
    â€œHe agreed to behave himself and not bring politics into the convention.”
    â€œPolitics, or just politics you don’t like?” The kid gave him a look of contempt. “You’re about as bad as Herr Schicklgruber, you know that?”
    Sam’s face went red, his lips pulling back from his teeth. Nat saw his hands start to curl into fists, and he knew that a punch was coming.
    â€œHey, now, wait a sec,” he began, stepping forward to place himself between the two combatants.
    But Sam was already in motion, and all Nat managed to do was get in the way. Caught off balance, he fell to the floor; a second later, he found himself at the young lady’s feet. She had nice legs. He looked up to find her staring down at him, both aghast and amused, and he was trying to find something clever to say—how would Cary Grant handle this?—when another guy rushed forward to push the chairman and the kid away from each other.
    â€œOkay, break it up!” he demanded. “No fighting in here!”
    â€œGet ’em out of here, Willie!” Sam snapped, pointing to both the kid and Nat. “Throw ’em out, both of ’em!”
    Nat stared at him. “Now just a minute! I didn’t—”
    â€œNo, he did not.” The girl stepped over Nat to confront Willie. “He was trying to stop a fight, that’s all. Your friend—”
    â€œHer too!” Sam snapped his fingers toward the door. “Out! Now!”
    Willie started to reach for the girl, but she slapped the back of his wrist. “Mitts off, buster!” He winced and yanked his hand back, and she turned to Sam. “If this is the way you intend to run this convention, then I’ll be happy to leave.”
    By then, Nat was beginning to sit up. “And even if you were giving me a choice in the matter, I’d join her, anyway.”
    She glanced down at him and gave him a lovely smile. Yeah, that was the right thing to say. Nat started to struggle up from the floor and found himself being helped to his feet by the kid. Now it was the three of them against the convention chairman and his friend. This wasn’t the way Nat intended to make friends here, but there was no backing down now.
    â€œI’m not a Futurian,” Nat said to Sam, “but could you point them out to me so I can ask to join?” Not waiting for an answer, he patted the kid’s shoulder. “C’mon, friend. Let me buy you a cup of coffee.”
    â€œI’ll buy you both lunch,” the girl said. “There’s a place across the street. Let’s go.”
    Nat and the kid shared a surprised glance. A free lunch from a swell-looking girl was an offer they couldn’t refuse.
    â€œAfter you, madam,” the kid said, giving her a gallant bow.
    â€œThank you, kind sir.” She fell in step with them as they walked away. Ignoring the stares and scattered applause of those