CHAPTER ONE HUNDRED AND TWENTY-SIX

A HORRIBLE NEW FEELING

Lipe only then paid attention, even though he was facing the guy, he wouldn't have noticed, as his expression hadn't changed, except for the pallor of his face, the whiteness and lack of color.

"Jesus, what's wrong?" he asked, not knowing what he could do. Standing up, he looked on in disbelief.

"Sit down again, son, put your head between your legs," Dalia instructed him. "That's it, you'll feel better soon."

She held his head between his bent knees.

It was the first time Otávio felt enraged and helpless, and it frightened him. The whole situation made him nervous: the lack of control, his mother's care, her concern in her voice, her touch. When Lipe placed his hand on his arm, he shook it off, stood up with the blood pumping rapidly through his veins, his heart pounding irregularly, and moved away from both of them.

The colour returned to his face, erasing the worried furrow on his mother's brow. He crumpled the rest of the can but didn't throw it on the ground