“Look at that,” says Attica.
A halo of lightning the size of the whole dump flashes above it, hitting the razor wire above the wall with a bloodcurdling bang.
“You were amazing, Asha,” cries Jeevan. “You did it!”
“Put your foot down,” I yell, looking back. “They’re piling into a car … They’re following us!”
The gate splinters into pieces as we ram through it.
“Faster,” I shout above the noise of the traffic. In the side mirror I can see the lamagaias still following, swooping low in front of the windshield of the pursuing car and landing on its roof. The car zigzags from one side of the road to the other, weaving behind us.
Crowds of people stand at the roadside, pointing and gaping.
Jeevan’s teeth are clenched, the knuckles on his hands white from gripping the steering wheel.
“Watch out!” I cry.
He swerves, just missing a cart loaded with marigolds as the owner looks on in shock.
A huge cheer rings out from the back.
The wind is so frantic now it’s practically a hurricane. The trees are bent, tossing backward and forward, branches cracking. A deafening bang shakes the road as another almighty crack of lightning hits a tree, bringing it down just behind us, blocking the road.
“Go, Jeevan,” I yell until I think my lungs will burst.
There are whoops and cries from the back. “Yeah … GO, Jeevan!”
I glance in the rearview mirror and see the car that’s following us swerve to miss the tree, but it’s going too fast and smashes into it with a metallic crunch.
Sami bangs on the roof of the truck as if it’s a drum … A massive victory cry explodes from the others.
“I told you we’d do it.” I punch the air, a smile spreading across my face.
Sami looks over at Jeevan. “Where did you learn to drive like a racing star?”
Jeevan’s mouth curls into a little smile and he bashes the horn before concentrating on the road again. He looks straight ahead, crossing through traffic lights flashing green and orange, carrying on and on through what seems like the whole of the huge city.
“Look at the birds,” shouts Jeevan as we exchange a quick look. “One of them is Asha’s nanijee, you know.”
I feel my cheeks turn hot; at last Jeevan finally believes in the power of the ancestors, and more importantly, believes in me.
The birds form a line above us and we wave at them before they rise farther into the rain-darkened sky, disappearing into the clouds.
The storm gradually subsides and the littered streets become quieter, with fewer people and less traffic.
“Jeevan, you were incredible,” I say. “You just kept going!”
I pull the mango seedling from my pocket and wave it under his nose.
“I can’t look now,” he says. “I’m driving!”
“Well, the shoot’s as long as two of my little fingers … and it’s got two bright shiny new leaves growing.”
“You didn’t give up with your watering, even in there.”
“And Jeevan, look—there’s the very start of the tiniest bud appearing.”
“I’m sure you’ll get a mango growing before long!”
Attica wraps her arms around me. “That was like a miracle, Asha.”
I put the seedling back safely in my pocket. “See what happens when we all work together?” I stroke Attica’s hair, thick with dirt and full of knots, swallowing the lump in my throat. “I’ve got a little sister back home … She’s just like you. Her name’s Roopa.”
She snuggles closer and my whole being aches for home.
“We’d better make sure we get far enough away,” says Sami. “We don’t want them tracking us down.”
“Yeah … Keep going,” I say.
“We should report them,” says Jeevan angrily. “So they get closed down and put in prison.”
“Taran already told you,” says Sami. “The police take bribes … There’s no point.”
“But there must be somewhere safe … Not all adults are like those crooks,” I say.
“There was a place where I used to live,” says Sami, his eyes lighting up. “It was for street kids … like us. That was before they grabbed me in the market.”
“Can you remember where it was?” asks Jeevan.
Suddenly the truck starts making a spluttering sound, slowing down and jolting to a standstill. There’s a huge uproar from the back.
Jeevan bangs the dashboard. “Oh no! It’s run out of fuel!”
“We’ll just have to walk,” I say. “It’s fine.” We climb out of the truck. “Don’t worry, everyone—we’re miles away from the dump now and we’re going to find this shelter for street kids that Sami knows about.”
Taran shuffles through the crowd of children.
“Sorry I didn’t believe we could do it,” he says. “We showed them though, didn’t we?”
“Sami,” says Jeevan, “lead the way. We need to find this place before it gets dark.”
“It’s been so long … I … I don’t know if I’ll remember.”
“You can do it, Sami.” Attica slips her hand in his. “We all worked together to escape, so finding the place won’t be so hard.”
“Taran,” says Jeevan, taking charge, “you go right at the end; I’ll go in the middle; and Sami, Asha, and Attica can go in front … Stick together, everyone … We don’t want to lose anyone after coming this far.”
Seeing Jeevan in control and full of enthusiasm makes my heart sing. I flash him a smile, take my place beside Sami, and grab Attica’s hand. We make a line and follow Sami through the streets, past shops and high-rise buildings.
We snake through the edge of a park with trees waving feathery branches in the breeze. “I … I really recognize this,” says Sami, slowing down. “I’m pretty sure the street shelter is on the other side of the park. I remember on Sundays they used to bring us to play kabadi here … Come on!”
We pick up speed, everyone chatting with excitement, almost running to keep up with Sami as he strides ahead.
He stops in front of a redbrick building with gates and a high wall around it and a buzzer to one side. A
