laugh about in future gatherings, just one of those irrational things that kids liked to do, oblivious of the glaring morbidity that would catch up to them only in hindsight. How did the grown-ups get involved anyway? But when Tony heard the three laughing, he immediately knew for certain that it was Angelo who had gotten them involved. Angelo liked being the center of attention, and he would willingly spoil the solemnity of a given moment if it meant getting more of it. Tony felt betrayed seeing that his brother wasn’t taking this as seriously as he was, and he fell into despair knowing that nobody would take his side if he fought Angelo about it. It took a village to raise Angelo, which meant that everyone coddled him like he was an egg on a spoon. Teachers found his bad grammar endearing and thought it cute how he couldn’t tell his left leg from his right. Relatives laughed heartily at the way he would scrunch up his face after stealing a sip from his father’s beer. Strangers liked to pinch his cheeks or poke his belly, which bulged ostentatiously with health. People never complained about sharp and pointy bones whenever Angelo sat on their laps. They also indulged his blabbering, while Tony’s reserve was often mistaken for rudeness or lack of spirit. Tony remembered to whip his brother. He did it harder this time, it made Angelo yelp. “Not too hard now,” Uncle Junior warned him. They finally arrived at the mango tree, which everyone despised because it yielded only sour mangoes. It stood apart from the congregation of mahoganies that crowded toward the 23