He pointed at the place where my sweet-orange tree stood. I puckered up to cry.
“You’re lying, aren’t you, Totoca?” “You don’t need to make that face. It’s still a long way off.”
My fingers were nervously counting the coins in my pocket. “It’s a lie, isn’t it, Totoca?”
“No. It’s the honest-to-God truth. But are you a big boy or not?” “I am.”
The tears streamed down my face anyway. I hugged him around the waist, begging.
“You’re with me, aren’t you, Totoca? I’m going to round up a lot of people to make war.”
“No one’s chopping down my little orange tree.” “OK, fine. We won’t let them.”
“Now will you lend me the money?” “What’s it for?” “Since you were banned from the Cinema Bangu,”
“they started showing a Tarzan film. I’ll tell you all about it when I’ve seen it.”
I found five tostões in my pocket and handed him the money while I dried my eyes with the bottom of my shirt.
“Keep the change. You can buy some sweets.” I went back to my orange tree, but I didn’t feel like talking.
I just thought about the Tarzan film. I’d seen it the day before. “Do you want to go?” Portuga had asked when I told him about it.
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