But I argued with myself. ‘Another day. Not today, no way...’
I came to the Villas-Boas family’s house. It had a large cemented-over front yard.
Serginho was riding around the flower beds on a beautiful bicycle.
I pressed my face against the fence to watch. The bicycle was red with streaks of yellow and blue.
The metal gleamed. Serginho saw me and began to show off.
He went fast, sped around corners and braked so hard the wheels squealed. Then he came over.
“Like it?” “It’s the most beautiful bike in the world.”
“Come to the gate – you’ll be able to see better.”
Serginho was Totoca’s age and in his class. I was ashamed of my bare feet because he was wearing shiny shoes, white socks and red braces.
His shoes were so shiny they reflected everything. Even Father’s eyes began to stare out of the shine at me.
I gulped. “S’up, Zezé? You’re acting weird.” “Nothing. It’s even more beautiful up close. You get it for Christmas?”
“Yep.” He climbed off the bike to talk and opened the gate.
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