I insert the keys like a thief.
The door slowly opens. Nobody in sight. I hear the radio playing music. I recognize Vasco’s voice repeating, “I want a dangerous life, I want a life like that in the movies,” and I think it’s all a joke in bad taste. I close the door again. Mom didn’t hear me, but in that moment Terminator begins to bark like crazy, overtaken by the pressure on his bladder, which begins to act up every time he sees me open or close any door. Mom appears, called in by the ruckus, and I am there, with my sweatshirt and my backpack, and Terminator running circles around me and yapping away.
“What are you doing there? Weren’t you in your bedroom studying?”
Leo, breathe: you are gambling everything here.
“Yes, but I took a break, I took Terminator out to pee. … ”
The only excuse that can save me. …
Mom looks at me like a police officer interrogating someone in an American cop film. “And why do you stink like this?”
“I took advantage of the opportunity to take a short run. I can’t stand just studying and doing nothing else, that’s all. … Sorry, Mom, I should have told you before, but Terminator was going nuts. … You know how he is!”
Mom’s face relaxes. I take off toward my room, where Vasco is screaming, “Which doesn’t care about anything … yeah!” before my face can betray the lie and Terminator demonstrates, in fact, that nobody has taken his incontinent bladder for a walk. …