'Katia! Katia!' Dolores screamed.
'Yes mum?' Katia relied.
'Katia, please have Christiano do all his homework after school!' Dolores whispered.
'Okay…?' Katia answered.
'Then, only then — Christiano can go out, and play football. Got that?' Dolores whispered.
'Okay.' Katia chuckled quietly. The local council had found a home for the family in Quinta do Falcāo, one of the poorest areas of Funchal. The walls hadn't been painted properly and the roof often let in leaks, but it was enough for the family. Three bedrooms: one for Dolores and Dinis, one for Elma and Katia, and one for Hugo and Christiano.
'A proper home for our family!' Dolores said happily, when they had their first dinner together in the house. However, in order to pay the rent, everyone was working harder than ever. Dolores had a new job in the kitchen of a hotel, Dinis was working at Andorinha, and Elma and Katia had both left school early to earn money for the whole family. Katia, who was only at an age of fourteen, was in charge of her little brother, also the youngest of the family: Christiano. He had an innocent smile like a little angel but Christiano could sometimes be very naughty.
'As soon as you finish your homework, you can go out and play, alright?' Katia reminded Christiano while she was walking him back home from school. 'You can come to me anytime if you need some help. Okay?' Christiano nodded. And when they got back home, Christiano ran in and carefully placed his backpack on the ground and started unpacking it. Katia walked upstairs to change and Christiano got out his homework and ran to the kitchen table. He opened his books and placed them on the table — innocently. Katia smiled and walked away but once she finished getting changed, she walked down the stairs just to find her little brother's books scattered all on the floor along with some old pencils. He had disappeared.
'Christiano!' She called out. 'Christiano?' Katia thought he might have gone to the toilet, but as she checked, there was nothing but a sheet of plain darkness.
'Christiano! Christiano!' She screamed. Katia ran out onto the street.
It was no use; the little boy had escaped through the back door and gone to play football.
'Just wait until mum finds out!' Katia thought to herself. There weren't many parks in Quinta do Falcāo or any big open spaces. If Christiano didn't want to walk miles to the nearest beach, they only place to play was in the street. The conditions were far from perfect. The big roads were uneven, with random obstacles everywhere and the streets weren't very even either. They used rocks as goalposts and blocked the road for as long as possible.
'Car!!' They would shout when a car was close. The rocks were moved but once the car was past, it was Game On. This went on until darkness and the final meal of the day; Dinner. If they couldn't play with a proper football, they would just search for a plastic bottle or a piece of scrunched up paper. Nothing was in the way of Christiano and his friends. The only good thing about Christiano's first 'pitch was that he needed to learn brilliant close control of the ball and the art of dribbling players in small, tight places. But even so, he was still a football natural. His feet were blurry when he ran forward with the ball glued to his feet. Christiano would dance everywhere he went with the ball. He did step overs, and flicks to get past defenders. He watch other older kids playing in the street and instantly learnt all of their tricks. It was always just a matter of time. There would always be crowds of locals watching is tricks. Christiano loved it. He loved to entertain them.