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

embarassed.
    â€œThey’re all over there in Sao Paulo. It’s been a long time since I’ve seen them. They wouldn’t know me anymore.”
    The waiter brought the change. After counting it, Dito pocketed it and left the bar with Smokey. They walked along a street with filthy gutters and entered an alley of irregular paving. Everywhere there were decayed houses with large dilapidated windows where women’s clothes hung out to dry. Dito suggested a swim in the sea.
    â€œLet’s enjoy the sun. We can wait for Manguito at the public square.”
    â€œWhat if Crystal shows up?”
    â€œWhy should he?”
    â€œI dunno. These people don’t forget.”
    â€œThen, we do him in. We can’t lose nothing by waiting”
    Smokey threw a stone at some pigeons scratching the earth below the almond trees; they flew up only to land further away. He ran threatening to catch one of them and returned.
    â€œHave you ever eaten roasted pigeon?”
    Dito said no.
    â€œIt’s very good.”
    They crossed the freeway, Smokey hopped into an ornamental garden of grasses and flowers. Dito took off his shirt, climbed some rocks, reached the sand where the waves drove ashore throwing up seaweed and foam. They hid their clothes in the rocks’ crevices and got into the water. Dito’s first care was to wash his wound well, then his arms and legs.
    â€œJeez, we will get out of here whiter,” he said laughing at Smokey.
    â€œI’m gonna get blacker, with so much sun.”
    When they got tired of the water, they stretched out on the sand.
    â€œLater on we can eat at the Italian woman’s boarding house.”
    â€œWhere is that?”
    â€œClose to Arcos. It’s great!”
    â€œBut before, we gotta find Manguito.”
    Smokey enjoyed throwing stones in the water, while Dito sunned his face. With his eyes closed he could still see the huge police chief asking Caramel to get the piece of water hose from the drawer. Then the beating. And every time he said Deborah’s name, the man appeared to be even more furious. He couldn’t understand.
    He sat down when Smokey called him to show the beach towel he’d stolen. They dried themselves off, cleaned their feet, and put on shoes.
    â€œLet’s come back some other day.”
    â€œNot a bad idea,” Dito answered. “It’ll depend on the kind of work we’re going to get. This thing of being at the beach is not for us.”
    They climbed back over the rocks, crossed the expanse of grass, ran in front of the cars and reached the square where they spotted Manguito.
    â€œHey, how’s it going?”
    Mother’s Scourge said nothing, simply making a face. Encravado babbled something, Pin said Brown Sugar couldn’t be found.
    â€œI think he flew the coop. No one has seen a sign of him in the slum.
    â€œHe’ll show up. He knows he’s one of us,” Dito said.
    Smokey talked again about the Italian woman’s boarding house. Encravado knew where it was.
    â€œIt’s time for us to act as a group,” Dito warned. “There’s only one thing: we can’t screw up. We’ll either come here or go to the rocks at the water’s edge, late afternoons. When they find us, we change meeting places.”
    â€œEarly tomorrow, the whole gang goes to Glo’ria’s market, to work. We got to sweet-talk the housewives, so they’ll spill the money,” said Manguito.
    Dito returned to planning lunch, deciding that Smokey, Encravado and Manguito would eat first. When they returned, Mother’s Scourge, himself and Pin would go.
    II
    The first morning at the market was lively. The sun was warm, and the stalls’ awnings shaded the vegetables, tomatoes, oranges, bananas, pumpkins and watermelons piled up underneath. Among the booths, strong men scaled fish; a woman filled up baskets with string beans; an old retiree chose a head of lettuce carefully; a