The worst days were when Seu Madruga, the landlord, came looking for the rent. A tall, slow-moving man with a thunderous voice, he would stomp through the courtyard. "Rent! I want my rent!" Don Ramón would hide behind the water tank. Dona Florinda would slam her door. And Chaves? Chaves would freeze inside his barrel, holding his breath, praying the giant footsteps wouldn't stop. They always did stop, right by the barrel. Seu Madruga would glare at it, sigh a deep, weary sigh, and move on. He never looked inside. It was as if he knew some secrets were better left in the dark.
Chaves climbed out, Pé de Pano in his arms. As Don Ramón hustled him inside, the boy looked back. Quico was carrying his old blanket. Chiquinha had a warm cup of soup. Professor Girafales was holding a towel. And standing in his doorway, pretending to check the rain gutter, was Seu Madruga. chaves
"It'll still be here tomorrow," Don Ramón grumbled. "Tonight, you sleep on my floor. And that mangy dog too. But just this once! Don't get used to it." The worst days were when Seu Madruga, the
His name was Chaves. No one knew his last name. When the kind-hearted but short-tempered Don Ramón asked, the boy would just shrug, his big brown eyes looking down at his dusty, too-large shoes. "I don't remember," he'd whisper, and that was the end of it. I want my rent
"Hey, Chaves!" Quico would shout from his balcony, holding up a shiny red apple. "You want this? Say 'Uncle Quico is the smartest and handsomest boy in the world.'"
He wasn't just the boy who lived in the barrel.