Mountain of Fire by Radhika Puri Page B

and ran to her mother.
    â€œIbu, look at that!” said Fitri, pointing to the volcano.
    â€œYes, I know. It’s probably nothing.”
    â€œHow can you say that, Ibu! There is so much smoke coming out of the volcano!”
    â€œYes, Fitri, your father has gone up the mountain with some men to have a look. Tidak apa masalah. There is no problem. Now get ready for school and be quiet. Don’t wake up your brother,” Ibu said.
    Fitri knew instantly her mother was lying. She could make out from the way she was hiding her face and the way she never turned around to look at Fitri. Grown-ups think that kids don’t know when they are hiding something, but kids always do.
    Ibu caught Fitri looking at her and said, “Are you listening, Fitri? Go straight to school. Do NOT go up the mountain.” Ibu’s warning was well placed. She knew her daughter would often do the exact opposite of what was expected of her.
    And she was right.
    The school was about half a kilometre outside the village. Most mornings she and Agus got a ride to school on her father’s motorcycle. But today, Agus was not well and her father had gone up the mountain to check on the Merapi. She would have to walk to school. That suited her plan just fine.
    Knowing her mother would be watching her, Fitri set out in the right direction.
    At this time of the morning, there were barely any people on the road. Just a few motorcycles sputtering by. Fitri waited at the village entrance where a large signpost read: Selamat Datang di Kampong Machuchak. Welcome to the village Machuchak. She waited till the last motorcycle had passed by her and then quickly ducked into the fields. She picked her way carefully through the strip of land between the rice fields and started doubling back towards the village.
    At that time of the morning, there were a few farmers tending to their crops and they ignored the girl running through their land. Fitri ran for 20 minutes straight through the fields and when she was absolutely sure she had left the village houses far behind, she went back to the road and started running towards the crater.
    She was making her way to a watchtower. The watchtower was a popular spot for tourists who came to see the Merapi. She often went there to get away from people, most recently after the disaster with Aditya’s hand. Ayah had taken away her books; there was no bigger punishment for Fitri. She had been furious with her father and sulked off to her quiet place, the watchtower.
    After a bit, the tar road turned into a dirt track that went further up the mountain. Even though it was a cool morning, Fitri was now sweating and breathing hard. Her plan was to get to the watchtower and make it back to school, just in time for morning classes.
    Fitri stopped a few feet away from the watchtower, crouching behind a rock to make sure no one was around. There were not many trees in this part of the mountain, just scanty bushes and large boulders. She certainly did not want to run into her father and the other men from the village.

    I’ll be in detention for a year if Ayah catches me here when I’m supposed to be at school, she thought to herself. She needed to know what was going on with the Merapi. Ibu had been lying to her – something was definitely wrong.
    Absolutely sure that no one else was around, Fitri tentatively went up to the watchtower. It was a white and blue structure with a flight of stairs leading up to a platform, which was covered with a roof. It was built next to a huge tree. The watchtower was open on all sides with a view of the volcano and the village around it. Fitri climbed up and looked around: in the early morning light, she could see the green rice fields and a gentle mist beginning to roll off the ground. The village looked beautiful, but on the other side the smoking volcano looked dangerous.
    â€œHey, you stupid girl!” a voice yelled out at her from the bottom of the stairs and