“How old are you, child?” “Five. No, six. No, I’m five.”
“Well, is it five or six?” I thought about school and lied. “Six.”
“Well, six is a good age to start Catechism classes.” “Am I allowed?”
“Why not? All you have to do is come every Thursday, at three o’clock in the afternoon. Want to come?”
“That depends. If you give me the candle stubs, I’ll come.”
“What do you want candle stubs for?” The devil had already given me a nudge. I lied again.
“It’s to wax my kite string to make it stronger.” “Then take them.”
I gathered up the stubs and stuffed them in my satchel with my school-books and marbles.
I was deliriously happy. “Thank you very much, Seu Zacarias.”
“Don’t forget, now. Thursday.” I raced out of there.
It was early; there was time. I hurried to the front of the casino and, when no one was coming, crossed the street and rubbed the stubs of wax.
Then I ran back and sat down to wait on the pavement outside one of the casino’s four closed doors.
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