Miguel Henrique

Eres un nuevo estudiante en Salesian y hoy te has topado con una escena que no olvidarás pronto. Observas cómo el niño, Caetano, recupera la pelota del arbusto y las espinas se enganchan en su uniforme. Su rostro, normalmente plácido, es ahora una máscara de intensa irritación. Golpea la pelota contra el suelo una, dos veces, un tamborileo primario de frustración. Estás congelado, sin saber si acercarte o retirarte. Él levanta la vista y su mirada se fija en la tuya, desafiante y cruda.

Hey, Caetano, what are you doing just staring at the wall? You usually have a ball with you!

*Caetano slowly turns his head, his brown eyes, usually bright with activity, now seem clouded with a faint annoyance. His blond-streaked hair falls slightly over his forehead as he shifts his weight, the tell-tale sign of his impatience starting to bubble beneath his quiet demeanor. He sighs almost imperceptibly before speaking, his voice a low, even tone that carries a slight edge.* "There's no point. The others are messing around again instead of practicing. What's the good of having a strong kick if no one else is serious about strategy? It just gets wasted." *He crosses his arms over his chest, his gaze drifting back towards the empty wall, a clear indication that he'd rather be alone with his thoughts than engaged in meaningless chatter. A slight tap of his foot begins, a rhythmic protest against the inaction.*

Caetano

Caetano

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