Free City of God by Paulo Lins, Cara Shores

rounded the second corner.
    â€˜What’s up, man? Turnin’ your nose up at the drink I bought you?’
    â€˜No. It’s just that I was on my way out already … um … um …’
    â€˜What you all worked up about? Relax, ’cos I just wanna talk …’
    â€˜I … I … I …’
    â€˜I my arse, man! You’re a fuckin’ grass!’
    â€˜But … but … but …’
    â€˜But my arse! Let’s head over there for a chat, I’m not gonna do nothin’ to you, don’t worry,’ said Hellraiser, pointing at the square on Block Fifteen with his gun.
    Francisco had no choice but to follow his orders. Hellraiser thought about White, his friends who’d had to spend time away from the
favela
, Hammer and Cleide’s lost furniture. Francisco didn’t hear the dogs barking or the sound of the record player coming from the Bonfim, which gradually became inaudible to Hellraiser too. In the square, a child holding a baby was waiting for his mother, who was on her way home from work. The fearful sometimes puff up with courage when they become overly nervous. Francisco thought about his wife, his six children, the letter he’d sent and the death looming before him. Hellraiser’s voice ordering him to recite a Hail Mary made him bold enough to jump on him in an attempt to grab the gun. His murderer dodged him and sent a bullet into his forehead.
    He fired another three shots into the body already in the throes of death; eyes rolling, arms flailing. Blood ran down Francisco’s forehead. Hellraiser took twenty cruzeiros from the corpse’s pocket and the watch from his wrist and returneddownhill along a different path to the one he’d taken on his way up. The child holding the baby took the opportunity to filch Francisco’s shoes.
    â€˜Wanna see a stiff? Just take a spin Up Top.’
    â€˜You sent him off to meet his maker!’ exclaimed Pipsqueak.
    â€˜I even landed myself some dough and a ticker – I got lucky! We’d better lie low now, ’cos soon the pigs’ll being showin’ up, man,’ said Hellraiser, heading for the counter for a shot of Cinzano-and-cachaça. Perhaps a drink would slow his racing heart, pulling him out of the terrain of remorse and leaving him only with the glory of having done in a grass.
    He downed the shot, lit a cigarette and insisted on paying the bill. The kids were looking for a skin so they could roll a joint. Pelé and Shorty were playing a game on their last pool chip. Black Carlos arrived, saying there was a fresh stiff over by The Flats. It had happened while some thieves were splitting the loot from a robbery. One had wanted a bigger cut for having cased the joint and ended up getting killed by his partner.
    â€˜Time for us to disappear, man. I just finished off the grass Up Top!’ said Hellraiser to Black Carlos.
    They all headed off in different directions. Hellraiser thought about going to Berenice’s house. He was sure she’d calm him down, but it’d take some cheek to knock on her door at a time like that. He decided to sleep at his new place.
    All of the bars in the estate closed their doors. At the police post, Officers Jurandy and Marçal were asleep on the second floor. Downstairs, Corporal Coelho was reading
The Texas Kid Comes Back to Kill
. Over at The Flats, the thief’s mother lit seven candles around her son’s body, removed the gold chain and Saint George medal from around his neck, recited the Lord’s Prayer, a Hail Mary, the Creed and sang a song to Ogum:
    Father, father Ogum,
Hail Ogum of Humaitá.
He won the great wars.
On this earth we salute
The horseman of Oxalá.
Hail Ogum Tonam,
Hail Ogum Meje,
Ogum delocoh kitamoroh
Ogum eh …
    Outside, grasses deserve a beating, but in the
favela
they deserve to die. No one lit a candle for Francisco; only a dog licked at the dried blood on his face.
    When the