Drive-by Saviours Read Online Free PDF

little, but he knew he was in trouble as Yusupu set him down in the sand just before their home. “What did you do with my money?” Yusupu demanded.
    Bumi looked down at the sand and said nothing.
    â€œWhere is the rest of the money?” Yusupu repeated.
    Bumi was about to fall on his knees and throw himself at Yusupu’s feet begging mercy but Yusupu was too quick. He grabbed Bumi and pulled his shorts down to get a better crack at his backside. There he discovered the ugliest multicoloured, multi-patterned little sarong he’d ever seen, stitched together by someone with obvious skill, which became even more apparent when it took all his strength to separate each small piece. Arum’s skill saved Bumi’s life. Yusupu vented so much of his rage tearing the sarong apart he managed only a half-hearted kick to the boy’s jaw before going to sleep.
    Bumi sat on the sand and held his jaw. Though it hurt to do so, he clenched it tightly, holding back his tears. He ground his teeth together until pain was shooting up from the jaw into his temples. Still he would not cry. He clutched at the sand and pressed his forehead to it as if in prayer—but he did not pray. He pushed a futile angry breath through his clenched teeth and bit into the sand. With his head against the sand he beat on his sternum with his fists, revelling in the pain. He tortured himself this way until he had no more strength, and he rolled over and lay there, looking at the stars for guidance.
    â€œEndure,” they whispered to him. “Life has its rewards if you can harden your heart to the pain for long enough.”
    BUMI WAITED A FEW MORE DAYS BEFORE HE DARED MEET WITH HIS friends again. When he did drop by again, only Pram was at the usual meeting spot behind a booth that sold skewered barbequed chicken.
    â€œWhere have you been?” Pram asked.
    â€œFishing,” Bumi answered, using the standard excuse for anything needing excusing under the Rilakan sun.
    â€œFishing? For four days? That’s a lot of rotten fish to sell.”
    Bumi wasn’t sure what to say. No one had ever called him on the fishing excuse. The strongest rebut he’d ever heard before was, “Well, what did you catch?”
    Bumi just gazed at his friend with love and regret. “Where is Arum?” he asked.
    â€œShe’s given up on you. You know it’s not easy for a gimp to get around. I wouldn’t be here either, if this wasn’t my home.”
    Bumi, not wanting to waste his hour looking for Arum, stayed listening to Pram’s stories about how he almost drove the Japanese out of Makassar single-handedly, before that one sadistic soldier took away his ear and his balance.
    Arum was back the next day. She looked down at the ground and said nothing for a long time. Finally she spoke. “I came back because I need money, that’s all.”
    â€œI’m sorry,” Bumi said.
    She gave him a thin smile and he knew she would forgive him. Arum sewed the pieces of his sarong back together within two days and he repaid her with fresh yards of fabric he purchased from the market, saying, “If you use new fabric, big people will buy sarongs from you too.”
    â€œBut I still want to spend time with you, Little One,” Arum told him. She closed her eyes but Bumi could see an entire history of lost children etched in the lines of her face.
    â€œYou can sew and we can listen to Pram’s stories together,” Bumi told her. Pram gave him a half-smile. “When you finish a sarong, I will sell it to the sarong salesman for you, buy more material, and we’ll split the profit.”
    Arum pulled Bumi onto her lap and tickled his cheeks and shoulders with kisses. Stone-faced, Pram gazed on the woman and child, saying nothing.
    BY THE TIME ALFI WAS FOUR YUSUPU HAD BECOME FRUSTRATED BY the girl’s tendency to stare at things: the sea, the sand, washed up debris. Bumi sensed danger, and at