My nanijee beats her wings, resting one gently on my shoulder, making me feel just like Durga, a warrior princess from the mountain kingdoms ready to fight the demons!
“That’s the most amazing thing I’ve ever seen,” says Taran, shifting his gaze. “I—I’m sorry I ever doubted you.”
With a tremendous rush of air, my nanijee glides off my shoulders and joins the other lamagaias hovering in the sky.
All day long the lamagaias circle the dump as if they’re the guards now, sometimes flying higher, sometimes lower, but always visible.
We keep our heads down, quietly discussing the plan through the water breaks.
For a change, the guards keep well away from us, their usual taunts and violence buried in their confusion and unease over the birds circling above.
“The sun’s going down,” I say to Jeevan and the others. “Tell everyone that it’s nearly time for the collection truck.”
The message is relayed, like whispers in class, until it ripples over the entire dump, reaching all the children.
Dark silvered clouds are gathering overhead and the sun disappears behind one of the tall buildings. I scan the circle of hovering birds, searching for my nanijee, and feel a strange sensation, as if I’m up there too, watching myself.
Nanijee, please help me if you can.
I grip my pendant, feeling the rhythm surge through my body like a thunderbolt, my heart racing, the charge of electricity filling the air.
The sky darkens, crackling with thunder, and lightning streaks across the clouds, filling the air with a tremendous noise, making everyone—including the guards—stop what they are doing and stare.
“What is it, Asha?” asks Attica, pulling at her thin dress to stop it flapping about.
I shield my eyes from the flying dust. “Don’t worry,” I shout to them all. “It’s going to be fine.”
The wind begins to blow more fiercely, gathering speed, sending loose paper wrappers and pieces of plastic shooting high into the air. Everyone’s clothes stick to their thin bodies, hair whipping around their faces.
Am I making this happen?
I put my arms around Attica, protecting her from the spiraling trash, and feel the red-hot rage deep inside me … How did the guards get away with treating them like this for so long? Just like the men on the train, they think they can push us around, they think children have no power.
They’re wrong!
I gather all my strength, every drop of misery and stifled scream, and bellow at the top of my lungs, “We’re going to pay you back. Whatever happens now, we’re leaving. We’re not scared of you anymore.” The words pour out of my mouth like boiling lava. They roar out of me in an explosive war cry.
The lamagaias continue to circle above us, their wings flashing golden against the silver gray of the billowing rain clouds, and Nanijee leaves the circle, swooping down and landing close beside me. She raises herself up as if standing on her claws, puffing her chest, making herself as tall as my waist, and I feel I could climb onto her back, ride into the skies like the goddesses from the ancient texts, breathing fire and ferocity.
“What’s happening?” screams one of the guards.
“Look,” says Attica. “It’s the truck.”
The gates fling open, the driver skids to a halt and gets out, looking at the scene in disbelief. It’s the perfect distraction.
Jeevan runs toward the truck, with Sami, Attica, and the rest of us following as fast as we can.
The driver notices what’s happening and grabs hold of Jeevan just as he’s climbing into the driving seat.
“Let him go!” I shout, sprinting toward the driver.
But before I reach him, the spirit bird swoops down and lands on the driver’s head, scratching and clawing at his hair. He screams, tumbling to the ground, struggling to get the gigantic bird off.
We cover our ears as thunder roars and lightning flashes across the sky and my nanijee rises again to join the other lamagaias.
“Look!” shouts Sami. “The metal on the dump looks like gold in the sunlight!” His voice echoes through the air. Gold in the sunlight …
“Gold!” one of the men shouts. The others turn from us and scramble on their knees, digging into the trash with their hands, stuffing whatever they can into their pockets.
“They’ve gone crazy,” says Sami, staring at them.
I try to gather my own wits. “Quick, everyone—climb in the back of the truck.”
Everyone piles in, one on top of the other, squeezing to make sure there’s enough space.
“Sami, Attica, get in the passenger side,” I shout, leaping in next to them.
Jeevan turns the key, pressing the accelerator, making the truck leap forward.
“Let’s go,” I say.
Jeevan pushes his foot down, but the truck judders to a halt and stops. It’s stalled.
“The driver’s coming,” cries Attica, looking around.
Jeevan twists the key again, trying to get the screeching engine started.
The driver runs up to the stationary truck, trying to grab my arm through the open window as rain lashes down on him.
“Get off,” I cry, my throat raw. “Quick, Jeevan.” I push hard on the handle to close the window, almost trapping the driver’s hand. “Start it again.”
“You can’t get out,” yells the driver, banging on the window, rain streaming down his face. “The code’s changed.” He twists the handle, trying to open the door.
“Come on, Jeevan,” I say desperately.
He twists the key again, stretching his legs toward the pedals.
“They’re coming!” Sami cries—and he’s right. The other men have regained their senses and are rushing toward us.
Suddenly, the truck starts moving and jerks toward the gate—but they catch up with us anyway, banging the sides with rocks and batons.
The birds swoop onto them, making the most ear-piercing noise, scratching at their eyes, swarming them with their immense wings, bombing them from all sides as the thunder and lightning reach a crescendo.
“Drive as fast as you can!” I cry. “It doesn’t matter if the code’s changed—we’ll smash through the gate if we pick
