Sami stands up. “Shhh …” he calls. “Let’s have a vote … Hands up if you want this to end and to try to get out.”
At first only a few of the other children put up their hands, but slowly the room becomes a sea of fingers.
For three torturous weeks we’ve been imprisoned in the dump, but every night when they lock us in with spiders as large as my palm and black rats that swarm every inch of floor, we hone our escape plan.
Jeevan keeps chipping away, rallying the kids who are too scared, until only a few say it’s too risky.
It’s taken hours of surreptitious observation of the guards and how they operate to get all the information we need, but the resulting plan is actually quite simple. Nevertheless, we’ve been through it over and over again, until we can all say it by heart: When the dump truck comes around at about five p.m. to collect the scrap metal, we’ll watch for when the driver gets out to help with the loading. Jeevan knows how to drive because of the tractors back home, so he’s going to jump in the driving seat. The rest of us will pile into the back. There are loads of us and only a few adults—and they won’t be expecting this. We should be able to do it. We’ve been watching the driver punch in the code for the gate and we’ve memorized it, so we’re all set.
Last night we all watched the waning moon in the sky, ticking toward half, meaning it’s just over a week until Divali—until Meena comes for her money. But we’re ready for action, ready to escape. I still have time to find Papa and get home before Meena takes it.
I wake early, and as the gray light seeps through the small windows I think about the danger I’m putting everyone in. But we have to get out; otherwise we’ll die here. I hold my pendant, feel my courage rising, and prepare myself for the battle ahead.
“Wake up, everyone,” I yell, fire whipping through my blood. “We need to go over things one last time, so we’re all absolutely sure what we’re going to do today.”
The bodies writhe and stir like they’re part of some mythical creature with hundreds of stretching arms and legs.
I shake Attica awake. She yawns and rubs the sleep from her eyes.
“Come on, everyone … Get ready,” says Jeevan.
“What happens if it goes wrong?” says Taran, looking toward the door. “They’ll treat us worse than ever.”
“It won’t go wrong,” says Jeevan, standing tall. “We stick to the plan, we stick together.” He looks over to me. “All for one and one for all!”
“Jeevan’s right.” I think about Ma and Papa, Rohan and Roopa, and Jeevan. I stand on the water bucket, speaking in a loud whisper. “We’ll do it together. I’m feeling stronger than ever today … Each night when they shove us in here, I hold my pendant and I get a sign that tells me my nanijee is listening. Don’t be scared. We’re going to get out.” As I speak, a rush of red-hot anger pumps through me. “They have no right to keep us here, and today we’re going to show them our power.”
I lower my voice. “Don’t be scared—we’ll do it today. My ma taught me to believe in myself, and together we can fight this.”
Jeevan is looking so tired and thin and although his old bruises have healed, I know he’s got fresh marks on his back from the guards’ whips, and I feel even angrier.
The key turns in the lock. “Get up, scum,” shouts one of the men.
Everyone quiets down, huddling close together, and we file out into the dump, just like we do every day, silently, eyes to the ground, but inside I know we all have a burning flame, and when the time comes it will spark into an almighty fire, sending a rush of furnace-hot anger all over the junkyard.
As we approach the towering mound of trash my eye is drawn to shadowy gray shapes high in the sky.
Lamagaias! Dozens of them!
“Look, everyone,” I whisper, amazed. “Look, up there, look how many there are!”
The other children hold their arms across their foreheads, squinting to get a better look. “Wow!” they all cry … even Taran.
“That’s incredible,” says Jeevan, smiling and squeezing my arm.
They spread their wings, circling lower and lower, coming down to land on the high brick wall with razor wire across the top. When they take off again, the sun bathes their wings in golden light and they fly toward me, hovering right above, casting an immense shadow like a gigantic storm cloud over the entire mound.
“It’s like a solar eclipse,” says Jeevan, as if he can’t believe what he’s seeing.
The guards stare up, keeping their distance from us, mumbling prayers, pointing at the bronze cloud of birds.
One of the birds swoops down, landing right next to me, just like it did the first time in our garden in Moormanali.
“Nanijee!” I say. “I know it’s you.” I stretch my hand toward the tips of the bird’s vast wings and for the very first time I touch it. A wave of power like static electricity shoots down my arm, making it tingle and shiver. Even though I was scared before, all I feel now is closeness, awakening a memory from a long time ago.
“It is you, isn’t it? You watched over Jeevan in the forest, and made me strong enough to help him, and you’ve come now because I’ve been calling you.”
She stays by my heels while the other birds gather in the sky, forming a wide circle all around the perimeter of the yard.
I clutch my pendant and study them, feeling the rhythm, which is stronger than
