Every Tuesday, I would skip school to wait for the train that brought my friend Ariovaldo.
He’d come down the stairs holding up the brochures of song lyrics that we’d sell on the streets.
He’d be carrying two more full bags too, which were our backup. He almost always sold everything and this made both of us very happy.
At school recess, when there was time, we’d play marbles. I was really good at it.
My aim was spot on and I almost never went home without my satchel jiggling with my winnings, often triple the number of marbles I’d gone with.
My teacher, Dona Cecília Paim, was really sweet. You could tell her I was the most terrible boy on my street, and she wouldn’t believe it.
She didn’t believe that I knew more swear words than anyone else in class, or that no one got up to as much mischief as me.
She refused to believe it. At school I was an angel.
I was never told off and had become the darling of all the teachers, as I was one of the youngest kids who had ever been there.
Dona Cecília Paim could see our poverty from a mile off and, at break time,
when everyone else was eating their snack, she’d take pity on me, call me over and send me off to buy a sweet pastry.
She was so fond of me that I think I was good just so she wouldn’t be disappointed with me.
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