“I got lots of stuff. A gramophone, three suits, a heap of story-books, a huge box of coloured pencils.”
“A box full of games, a plane with a propeller that moves. Two boats with white sails...”
I lowered my head and remembered Baby Jesus, who only liked rich people, just as Totoca had said.
“What’s wrong, Zezé?” “Nothing.” “What about you?... Did you get lots of stuff?”
I shook my head, unable to reply. “Nothing? Nothing at all?”
“This year we didn’t have Christmas at my place. Father’s still out of work.”
“It’s not possible. Didn’t you have nuts, wine?” “Just French toast, which Gran made, and coffee.”
Serginho looked thoughtful. “Zezé, will you accept an invitation?”
I had a fair idea what it was. But even though my stomach was empty I didn’t feel like it.
“Let’s go inside. Mother will fix you a plate. There’s so much food, so many sweets...”
I didn’t want to take the risk. I’d had a hard time of it the last few days.
I’d heard someone say more than once, “I’ve told you before not to bring street kids into the house.”
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