“Bullshit,” Vallano said. “You watch, I’m going to empty out your locker before the end of the year. What I need now is a lace. Sell me one, Cava, you’re the peddler around here. Wake up, I’m talking to you, what’s the matter with you.” Cava looked up quickly from his empty cup and gazed at Vallano in dread. “What?” he asked. “What?” Alberto leaned over toward the Slave: “You sure you saw Cava last night?”
“Yes,” the Slave said, “it was Cava.”
“You’d better not tell anybody you saw him. Something’s up. The Jaguar tried to tell me they didn’t get the exam, but look at his face, the bastard.”
The whistle blew and they jumped up and ran out to the field. Gamboa was waiting for them with his arms crossed on his chest and the whistle in his mouth. The vicuña loped away, terrified by the sudden stampede. Look, can’t you see they’re going to flunk me in chemistry on account of you, Golden Toes, can’t you see I’m sick on account of you. Here’s twenty soles, the Slave loaned them to me, if you want I’ll write you some letters, don’t be like that, don’t get me nervous, don’t make me flunk the chemistry exam, can’t you see the Jaguar’s got the answers, can’t you see I’m worse off than Skimpy. The brigadiers made their count again and reported to the noncoms, who reported to Lt. Gamboa. It had started to drizzle. Alberto touched Vallano’s leg with his boot. Vallano glanced at him out of the corner of his eye.
“I’ll write you three letters.”
“Four.”
“Okay, four.”
Vallano nodded, and ran his tongue over his lips to lick off the last crumbs of bread.
The first section’s classroom was on the second floor of what was still called the New Building, although the dampness had already stained it and discolored it. The building next to it was the Assembly Hall, a big barn with crude benches where the cadets saw movies once a week. The drizzle had turned the parade ground into a bottomless mirror. The cadets trampled its shining surface with their boots. Their boots rose and fell to the blasts of the whistle. When they reached the foot of the stairs, the cadets broke ranks and charged up. Their muddy boots kept slipping on the stairs and the noncoms never stopped swearing. The classrooms looked out on one side over the cement patio where on any other day the cadets of the Fourth and the Dogs of the Third would have to march through a shower of spit and missiles from the Fifth. One day the Negro, Vallano, threw a piece of wood. There was a loud scream, and one of the Dogs raced across the patio like a meteor, covering his ear with both hands. A trickle of blood ran out between his fingers and made a dark stain on his jacket. The whole section was confined to the grounds for two weeks but the guilty person was never discovered. On the first day they were free Vallano bought two packs of cigarettes for each of the thirty cadets. “Jesus, that’s a lot,” the Negro grumbled. “One pack each’d be plenty.” The Jaguar and his buddies warned him: “Two apiece or we’ll hold a meeting of the Circle.”
“Just twenty points,” Vallano told Alberto. “Not a point more. I’m not going to risk my neck for just four letters.”
“No,” Alberto said, “at least thirty. And I’ll show you what questions with my finger. Don’t whisper the answers. Show me your exam.”
“I’ll whisper them.” The desks held two students each. Alberto and Vallano were sitting in the last row behind Cava and the Boa, who were both so broad-shouldered that they made a good screen.
“Like the last time? You told me the wrong answers on purpose.”
Vallano laughed. “Four letters,” he said. “Two pages each.”
Pezoa the noncom appeared in the doorway carrying a stack of exams. He looked at the cadets with his small, malevolent eyes, and from time to time he moistened the tips of his thin mustache with his tongue.
“Anyone who takes out a book,” he
“Yes,” the Slave said, “it was Cava.”
“You’d better not tell anybody you saw him. Something’s up. The Jaguar tried to tell me they didn’t get the exam, but look at his face, the bastard.”
The whistle blew and they jumped up and ran out to the field. Gamboa was waiting for them with his arms crossed on his chest and the whistle in his mouth. The vicuña loped away, terrified by the sudden stampede. Look, can’t you see they’re going to flunk me in chemistry on account of you, Golden Toes, can’t you see I’m sick on account of you. Here’s twenty soles, the Slave loaned them to me, if you want I’ll write you some letters, don’t be like that, don’t get me nervous, don’t make me flunk the chemistry exam, can’t you see the Jaguar’s got the answers, can’t you see I’m worse off than Skimpy. The brigadiers made their count again and reported to the noncoms, who reported to Lt. Gamboa. It had started to drizzle. Alberto touched Vallano’s leg with his boot. Vallano glanced at him out of the corner of his eye.
“I’ll write you three letters.”
“Four.”
“Okay, four.”
Vallano nodded, and ran his tongue over his lips to lick off the last crumbs of bread.
The first section’s classroom was on the second floor of what was still called the New Building, although the dampness had already stained it and discolored it. The building next to it was the Assembly Hall, a big barn with crude benches where the cadets saw movies once a week. The drizzle had turned the parade ground into a bottomless mirror. The cadets trampled its shining surface with their boots. Their boots rose and fell to the blasts of the whistle. When they reached the foot of the stairs, the cadets broke ranks and charged up. Their muddy boots kept slipping on the stairs and the noncoms never stopped swearing. The classrooms looked out on one side over the cement patio where on any other day the cadets of the Fourth and the Dogs of the Third would have to march through a shower of spit and missiles from the Fifth. One day the Negro, Vallano, threw a piece of wood. There was a loud scream, and one of the Dogs raced across the patio like a meteor, covering his ear with both hands. A trickle of blood ran out between his fingers and made a dark stain on his jacket. The whole section was confined to the grounds for two weeks but the guilty person was never discovered. On the first day they were free Vallano bought two packs of cigarettes for each of the thirty cadets. “Jesus, that’s a lot,” the Negro grumbled. “One pack each’d be plenty.” The Jaguar and his buddies warned him: “Two apiece or we’ll hold a meeting of the Circle.”
“Just twenty points,” Vallano told Alberto. “Not a point more. I’m not going to risk my neck for just four letters.”
“No,” Alberto said, “at least thirty. And I’ll show you what questions with my finger. Don’t whisper the answers. Show me your exam.”
“I’ll whisper them.” The desks held two students each. Alberto and Vallano were sitting in the last row behind Cava and the Boa, who were both so broad-shouldered that they made a good screen.
“Like the last time? You told me the wrong answers on purpose.”
Vallano laughed. “Four letters,” he said. “Two pages each.”
Pezoa the noncom appeared in the doorway carrying a stack of exams. He looked at the cadets with his small, malevolent eyes, and from time to time he moistened the tips of his thin mustache with his tongue.
“Anyone who takes out a book,” he
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