CHAPTER 5
The next morning, Raka woke up with a bad feeling.
He didn't know what was causing it.
Maybe it was the black car.
Maybe it was Dimas.
Maybe it was the bag now hidden beneath the reading center's wooden floor.
Or maybe it was because, for the first time, Garbage Mountain—which had always felt like a place they knew inside and out—suddenly felt unfamiliar.
Raka sat in front of the reading center, tying his sandal straps.
Jali came out yawning.
“Morning.”
“Morning.”
“Sleep?”
“A little.”
“Why not?”
“Don't know.”
Jali sat beside him.
“When I can't sleep, it's usually because I'm hungry.”
Raka smiled.
“You ate two packets of rice last night.”
“That was yesterday.”
“It was just last night.”
“Hunger doesn't have a calendar.”
Raka chuckled.
Sari came out carrying her notebook.
“Ready to go?”
Raka nodded.
Bimo appeared last.
He carried a small bag filled with screwdrivers, wires, and several things Jali could never explain.
Ucup ran outside.
“Bro!”
“What?”
“My car is gone.”
“Which car?”
“The one from yesterday.”
Raka sighed.
“Look inside.”
“I did.”
“Under the table?”
“I did.”
“Under the books?”
“I did.”
Jali looked at him.
“Don't tell me you took it to bed.”
Ucup fell silent.
Then he went back inside.
A few seconds later, he came out with the old toy car in his hand.
“Found it.”
Jali slapped his forehead.
“Unbelievable.”
They laughed.
Then they set out.
They didn't know that day would be the day they learned that an accusation didn't always need evidence.
The residential neighborhood was bigger than usual.
Tall fences.
Two-story houses.
Shiny cars.
Neatly trimmed trees.
Trash cans every few houses.
Raka liked places like that.
Not because of the houses.
Because of the trash.
People there threw away more cardboard.
Bottles.
Cans.
Electronic devices.
Sometimes even clothes that were still in good condition.
They worked along the side of the road.
They didn't enter anyone's yard.
They didn't bother anyone.
At least, they tried not to.
Sari found some dry cardboard.
“Nice.”
Raka nodded.
Bimo found some wires.
Jali collected a few bottles.
Ucup found a doll.
He immediately put it in his sack.
“Don't.”
Ucup turned around.
“Why?”
“We can sell it.”
“It's still good.”
“That's exactly why we can sell it.”
Ucup thought about it.
Then he took it back out.
He wiped the doll's face with the edge of his shirt.
“What if some kid wants it?”
Jali fell silent.
“Fine.”
He let it go.
They kept working.
Around nine o'clock, a car stopped in front of one of the houses.
A woman got out.
She opened the trash can.
Then she shouted.
“Sir!”
A security guard came over.
“What is it, ma'am?”
“My wallet is missing.”
“Where did you last have it?”
“At home.”
“Have you looked for it?”
“Yes.”
The woman turned around.
Her gaze fell on the five children who were picking through the garbage.
“Were they here yesterday?”
The security guard looked over.
“Yes.”
Raka heard them.
He stopped working.
The woman walked closer.
“You kids!”
All five children turned around.
“Yes, ma'am?”
“Which one of you took my wallet?”
Raka shook his head.
“We don't know.”
“Don't lie.”
“We didn't take it.”
“Because you were here earlier.”
Sari stepped forward.
“We only take things people throw away.”
The woman pointed at their sacks.
“Open them.”
Raka opened one.
Its contents spilled onto the ground.
Bottles.
Cardboard.
Cans.
Wires.
A doll.
An old toy car.
There was no wallet.
The woman still wasn't satisfied.
“Maybe you hid it in there.”
The security guard began rummaging through the pile.
Raka held his breath.
Bimo stared at the ground.
Jali was silent.
Ucup hugged the doll.
There was nothing.
The security guard stood up.
“It's not here.”
The woman said,
“Maybe it was already thrown away.”
“If it was thrown away, then it would be in the trash can,” Jali said.
Everyone turned to look at him.
Jali continued,
“If it's not here, then we didn't take it.”
Raka almost said something.
But the woman immediately snapped,
“Don't lecture me!”
Jali stepped back.
Raka stood in front of him.
“We didn't take it.”
“All thieves say that.”
The word made the air seem to stop.
Thieves.
Raka stared at the woman.
He wanted to answer.
He wanted to say that they might be poor.
Dirty.
Without nice houses.
Without shoes.
But they weren't thieves.
Yet the words stopped in his throat.
He remembered the rule.
Leave.
Sari touched his arm.
“Enough.”
They gathered their things.
Put them back into their sacks.
Then they left.
No one spoke for several minutes.
Until Jali said,
“I hate that word.”
Raka turned to him.
“What word?”
“Thieves.”
Sari looked at him.
“Because we're not.”
Jali nodded.
“Exactly.”
Ucup hugged the doll he'd found.
“I'm not one either.”
Bimo nodded.
“We know.”
Raka walked in front.
He didn't say anything.
But his pace quickened.
They had walked only about fifty yards when a voice rang out.
“Stop!”
Raka turned around.
The security guard from before was running after them.
“What now?”
“Her wallet was found.”
Everyone stopped.
The security guard held up a wallet.
The woman stood far behind him.
She looked confused.
“Found it in her room,” the security guard said.
Jali let out a short laugh.
Not because it was funny.
“So...”
He looked at Raka.
Raka shook his head.
Don't.
Don't make trouble.
They continued on their way.
But before leaving, Jali said loudly enough for them to hear,
“Maybe look first next time before accusing people.”
The security guard lowered his head.
The woman didn't answer.
They left.
At noon, they reached a small food stall near the main road.
Raka counted their earnings so far.
There wasn't much.
“If we sell everything?”
“Probably enough for a meal,” Sari said.
Jali looked at the food stall.
“Then let's eat.”
Raka nodded.
They bought packets of rice.
One for each of them.
Ucup opened his packet.
Then he looked at the doll beside him.
“This doll doesn't eat.”
Jali answered,
“She’s a doll.”
“That’s sad.”
“She isn’t hungry.”
“How do you know?”
Jali shrugged.
Ucup gave her a little rice.
Raka laughed.
They ate.
It was simple.
But peaceful.
At least for a few minutes.
Then a motorcycle stopped across the street.
Raka looked over.
Dimas.
The man didn't get off.
He just sat on the motorcycle.
Watching them.
Raka immediately lost his appetite.
Sari saw him too.
“Him again.”
Jali turned.
“The guy in the white shirt?”
Raka nodded.
Dimas raised his phone.
He took a picture.
Then another.
Then he left.
Raka stared at the empty road.
“Why did he take our picture?”
No one knew.
That afternoon, they returned to the reading center.
Ms. Laras was reading.
The moment she saw their faces, she closed her book.
“What happened?”
Sari told her what had happened in the neighborhood.
Ms. Laras listened.
“They found the wallet?”
“In her room.”
Ms. Laras sighed.
“That’s how it is.”
“What is?”
“People often find it easier to suspect someone than to check the facts.”
Raka sat down.
“Ms. Laras.”
“Yes?”
“If we didn’t do anything, why do people still believe we’re in the wrong?”
Ms. Laras looked at him.
“Because sometimes people believe what they think more than what actually happened.”
Raka fell silent.
Ms. Laras sat beside him.
“Don’t let other people’s accusations convince you that you’re really what they say you are.”
Raka nodded.
But the words hadn’t fully sunk in yet.
As evening approached, Bimo brought the laptop to the table.
“I found something.”
Raka moved closer.
“What?”
Bimo opened a folder.
“There’s a file we haven’t seen.”
Sari sat down.
“Which one?”
“This one.”
The file name read:
BM07_PAYMENT_2
Bimo opened it.
A table appeared.
Dates.
Truck numbers.
Amounts of money.
Codes.
Sari studied it.
“Look at the dates.”
Raka looked.
“What about them?”
“Every time a truck comes in, there’s a payment the day before.”
“So?”
“That means it was planned.”
Jali moved closer.
“Not a coincidence?”
Sari shook her head.
“No.”
Bimo opened the next row.
There was a company name.
Raka read it slowly.
“Mayangkara Waste Management.”
Ms. Laras immediately looked at the screen.
That was the company operating Bantar Mayang Landfill.
Jali whistled.
“So the bag really belongs to them.”
Ms. Laras didn't answer.
Sari opened another page.
There were several names.
One of them belonged to someone who worked at a city government office.
Raka looked at Ms. Laras.
“Ms. Laras.”
“Yes?”
“If this is true...”
Ms. Laras nodded.
“If this is true, the problem is much bigger than a missing bag.”
Raka stared at the screen.
Suddenly, he remembered the woman in the neighborhood earlier.
How easily people accused them just because they were waste pickers.
How people like them were always the easiest to suspect.
And now they were holding something that might show that the people who had always seemed clean and respectable were the ones hiding something.
The irony made Raka uncomfortable.
Night fell.
Ms. Laras told them not to go outside.
Raka stood by the door.
Jali sat on the floor.
Sari read.
Bimo repaired a radio.
Ucup played with the old toy car.
Everything looked ordinary.
Until the sound of a dog barking came from far away.
Ucup immediately covered his ears.
Jali laughed.
“Relax.”
“I’m not scared.”
“No?”
“No.”
“Then why are you covering your ears?”
“So the dog won’t get scared.”
Jali laughed loudly.
Ucup finally laughed too.
Raka smiled.
He looked at them.
His four friends.
The four people who had been his home all this time.
They didn't have a truly decent home.
But they had one another.
And Raka suddenly realized something.
He wasn't afraid of the bag because of what was inside.
He was afraid because, for the first time, the danger they faced didn't come from Garbage Mountain.
It didn't come from dogs.
It didn't come from trucks.
It didn't come from hunger.
The danger came from people.
People with cars.
Offices.
Money.
Power.
And maybe a reason to silence five kids like them.
Raka looked at the black bag beneath the table.
Then he looked at his four friends.
He knew one thing.
If something happened to them, he had to protect them.
No matter how.
He didn't yet know that this thought would eventually become his greatest weakness.
Because Raka hadn't understood one important thing:
Protecting your friends didn't mean always standing alone in front of them.
Sometimes protecting them meant trusting them to stand beside you.
And that lesson was still far away.
Very far away.
The night grew late.
Outside, the black car's headlights appeared briefly again at the end of the road.
Then they disappeared.
No one noticed.
Except Ucup.
The little boy stood by the window.
He watched the car's red taillights until they vanished completely.
Then he said softly,
“Bro Raka.”
Raka turned.
“What?”
“That person is still out there.”
Raka stood up.
But when he looked outside, the road was already empty.
“They’re gone.”
Ucup shook his head.
“They were there before.”
Raka stared at the road.
Then he turned back to Ucup.
“It’s okay.”
Ucup nodded.
But that night, for the first time, Raka began to understand that they were being watched.
And someone out there was waiting for them to make a mistake.