Free Black Alley by Mauricio Segura Page B

shoulders.
    â€œYour farts!” shouted a desperate voice.
    Contagious laughter lifted you up like a wave. As the commotion reached its climax, the officer lost his playful expression. He squinted as he searched for the guilty party.
    â€œIs the disrespectful person who said that brave enough to stand up now? Or am I going to have to come looking for him myself?”
    You all knew who it was, you’d recognized Sylvain’s voice. Crouching in his corner, he was having a hard time not laughing.
    â€œOh, I see!” said the officer seeing that no one was going to stand, “we’re dealing with a smart aleck. Well, I’m warning him, he’s going to hear from me but good if he doesn’t turn himself in.”
    The group was silent.
    â€œI did it,” said a voice.

    You all looked up at the student who was on his feet. What? Cléo! What was he up to? What had got into him? He played with his fingers, embarrassed.
    â€œSo, you’re the funny one,” the officer went on. “The school clown. . . .”
    Cléo didn’t move.
    â€œIt was just a joke, off’cer. It was just for fun.”
    â€œObviously,” the police officer cut him off, “I know it was a joke. We all got that part, my friend. You think I’m angry? Come on, son, I’ve seen worse than that.”
    The officer gave a little laugh, then turned to his colleague and rolled his eyes.
    â€œNo,” he said to Cléo, “it’s just that I thought I was dealing with children with good manners. I can see now I couldn’t have been more wrong . . . But, my boy, do you at least know the answer to my riddle?”
    Cléo shook his head no.
    â€œThat’s what I thought. Well, I’ll tell you. It’s silence. That’s the most beautiful sound there is.”
    Now he was looking down on you smugly.
    â€œSo, children, learn to have a bit more respect for silence. You’ll see how relaxing it is.”
    Then a meaningful smile spread across his face. And as he was walking away, he turned around one last time. “And you,” he said, lowering a finger at Cléo, “I’ve got my eye on you.”
    The police officers moved away and you and Akira huddled around Cléo: why had he stood up for Sylvain? Had he fallen on his head? Sylvain gave everyone a hard time, even him. Cléo shrugged his shoulders and let his hand drop back down: Sylvain’s okay, he just pretends he’s tough. You wondered, Marcelo, just what does he want? for everyone to like him? Akira leaned towards him and tapped on his head with his index finger, you’re sick, kid! There’s no point in sticking up for jerks like that! At the far end of the crowd, Sylvain was
watching Cléo, as if he was hesitating to come thank him. Finally, he turned away.
    After lunch, you and Cléo went to buy some gum on Rue Bernard. As you walked back, chewing it, you saw the two police officers strolling down the other sidewalk. When the shorter one noticed you, he crossed the street, looking around with a feverish expression, and then he came and blocked your path, his arms crossed, his face sullen. His colleague hurried to catch up with him: what do you want with these boys, Gilles? He was staring into the whites of Cléo’s eyes, a wily look crossing his face: did you mind, Maurice, he knew what he was doing. Remember Cléo’s round eyes going from the pistol to the nightstick. After a moment, the boy pointed a finger towards the baton: could he see it a minute, sir, he’d never held one in his hands. Gilles was like a statue, then he looked around again, a little anxiously this time: he wanted to know one thing . . . how come he liked to make other people laugh so much, eh, Blackie? Surprised, Maurice almost choked as if he’d swallowed his own saliva wrong, what’s got into you! What are you after? Slowly, his face still stoney, Gilles turned around: do you mind,