Everyone in Lagoa da Italianinha knows Samuel.
An upper-middle-class kid. Son of Valéria, a flight attendant who lives in London.
A big house, an air-conditioned bedroom, name-brand sneakers in the closet.
But Samuel has a serious problem: he hates fancy clothes.
A wedding party? He shows up in shorts with a plaid shirt over them.
A fancy birthday party? Sneakers with holes in them and his baseball cap on backward.
Flip-flops. Always flip-flops. He even showed up to a neighbor's wake wearing Havaianas.
His aunt despairs. "Samuel, honey, put on some dress shoes!"
He replies: "Auntie, dress shoes pinch my feet. Flip-flops mean freedom."
Saturday. 2:00 PM. Scorching heat.
His aunt says: "You're staying home to play games. No messing around. And get dressed properly, okay?"
Samuel nodded. Five minutes later, he was out on the street.
Torn sweatpants, a loose blue shirt.
And the flip-flops. Those famous blue flip-flops, already a bit worn out.
He passed the town square, cut through the alley, and hopped over the low wall.
Destination: the river that runs through Lagoa da Italianinha.
The river isn't pretty. It’s muddy, rocky, and full of small fish.
But in the summer, it becomes the town's official swimming pool.
When he arrived, four boys were already there.
"Samuel! Here comes the rich kid!" one shouted.
Samuel laughed. "Rich kid? No way. I'm poorer than you guys today."
And—flip-flops and all—*splash!* He jumped right into the river.
The icy water hit his shins. His sweatpants grew heavy.
He shouted and started running through the water, splashing the others, slipping on the rocks.
He spent forty minutes like that. Wet hair, glasses and flip-flops caked in mud, pants soaked through. It was 4 o'clock when he got home.
The gate was open. His aunt was in the living room.
She took one look and nearly dropped dead from shock.
Samuel was dripping wet. Mud up to his knees. Flip-flops caked in brown mud. Shirt in his hand.
"Samuel!!! I told you not to get dirty!"
Samuel, water running onto the floor: "Auntie, but the river was just too good. And that’s what flip-flops are for, anyway. Getting wet."
His aunt stifled a laugh. "At least you took off your dress shoes, right?"
Samuel went upstairs to shower. He left a trail of mud and water all the way to his room.
When he came out, he was wearing a different pair of shorts. And guess what? Another pair of flip-flops.
His aunt sighed: "I give up. God gave me a rich nephew with the soul of a street kid."
Samuel hugged her, still soaking wet.
"Auntie, rich or poor, kids have to play in the river. And it’s better in flip-flops."
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