Childhood of the Dead by Jose Louzeiro, translated by Ladyce Pompeo de Barros Page A

away.”
    Smokey frowned, Dito smiled.
    â€œWhen we get the entire gang together,” he said, “we won’t get into these deals with people like Crystal. We have to think about another way to get some money!”
    â€œSell things in the streets.”
    â€œWe steal from the stores and sell,” Smokey said.
    â€œThey will book us in a second.”
    â€œI think it’s better to control two or three large parking lots.”
    â€œGood idea. We clean the outside of the car and take the things from the inside,” Smokey suggested.
    Dito laughed again.
    â€œMan, you only think about stealing!”
    The train began to move. The wheels made piercing noises, clacking on the tracks.
    â€œHow long will it take us to get to Rio?” Manguito asked, without expecting an answer.
    â€œAnyday now we’ll get there,” said Smokey, who appeared very happy.
    â€œThe best thing for us to do to make easy money,” Dito continued, “is to do business in the open-air markets. The ladies need boys to push their carts, and that’s us . . . .”
    â€œYou think this is great?”
    â€œIt may not be, but it is profitable. When Deborah’s cash is spent, we will need reinforcements. Better not wait till it’s gone.”
    â€œWhat about the police?’
    â€œCut it out! There won’t be police officers who would want to bother people helping housewives.”
    â€œI think it’s a good idea,” Manguito said.
    â€œI do too!” said Smokey.
    The freight made a curve, Smokey looked out. The region they were crossing was filled with clay banks and there were shacks in the distance. For a moment his eyes caught a dog running after a boy.
    â€œBring your head in. The brakeman spots you, it’ll be hell,” warned Manguito.
    Smokey sat down again and began to play a game with the loose kernels. Dito paid no attention, he lay down on his back, over the bales and followed the noise of the wheels against the joints in the tracks. Some quick and dry clicks, similar to those he had heard before Pichote stumbled into death, falling in that cool and clear morning, his hand filled with dead flowers.
    * * *

CHAPTER THREE
    I
    Dito looked at himself in the bar’s mirror, where they announced in large painted white letters the plates of the day. He saw his eye was less swollen. The blue color was disappearing, giving way to a yellowish green. He pulled off another piece of adhesive tape and covered the bruise. He asked for coffee and bread, flashed his money first so the man behind the counter would serve him. Finally, he sat at the table with Smokey. Manguito had gone away early looking for Encravado and Mother’s Scourge. Dito hoped to find the others before the end of the week. Then, they could begin with the business at the market. They would collect the money and divide it in equal parts. If that wasn’t enough, they’d get some flannel rags and they would clean the windshields of cars stopped at red lights; sell newspapers, peanuts at doors of movie theaters and night clubs.
    Smokey complained of too much milk in the coffee so Dito called the waiter back. Later, for no reason, Dito asked Smokey if he wouldn’t want to visit his home.
    â€œWhat home?”
    â€œYour family’s!”
    Smokey showed his teeth.
    â€œGet out of here. I have no family. My father fell from a building under construction when I was two. My mother was left alone. She washed clothes, and made candy for sale at the Maracana~ Stadium. People would buy the candy but not pay her. One day she was taken away in an ambulance and never returned.”
    â€œWhat happened?”
    â€œI don’t know, man. She didn’t show up anymore. Neighbors took care of me, until they found out what had happened and they ran away.
    Smokey ate a hunk of bread and drank his coffee with milk.
    â€œAnd your people, where are they?”
    Dito appeared somewhat