Grasping
Part 3
Tears flooded Niar's cheeks, the little boy had already received stifling treatment and it was happening almost every day.
Seeing Niar crying did not make Sumiati feel pity, the woman took Nesva's hand and just passed by.
The prayer book that was firmly grasped by the drops of tears. So stifling, but the little girl used to comfort herself. Treating inner wounds with gratitude, at least still have a family. He believed that one day, his father, mother and brother would hug and love him.
Niar went into the room storing books and also savings from Bu Tini to be put into savings made from used bottles. Niar has a desire to buy shoes with his own money.
If he asked his parents, he knew he would not be bought. From the first day of school, all the used items belong to his brother. The girl has never been bought with a new one.
When putting Rp.5000 into savings, Niar's little lips showed a smile. Wounds some time ago have melted, imagine if it is an adult who will have the spirit to work hard, looking for as much money as possible to travel the world. A beautiful dream but do not know can be achieved or not.
"Niar ...!" Hearing his mother's voice calling, he immediately hid the bottle into a cardboard used as a storage area for clothes. Under the pile of clothes was the safest place, he thought.
"Yes, Mom ...." Niar immediately went out and approached the mother.
"You're a melting habit! I told you to wash the dishes, even delicious in the room continues. You want to get some rations to eat, don't you? Nothing is free, Niar!" sumiati jolted with annoyance.
"Yes, Mom, Niar just finished the book. It was to wash the dishes" replied Niar. He immediately passed to the kitchen, taking a bucket of dirty dishes and other kitchen utensils to wash.
After finishing washing the dishes, Niar immediately took a bath and left for the nearest mushola. As always, if the other kids haven't come home he'll be waiting. Sitting on a long 'slippery' is made of woven bamboo that is under the mango tree.
The crowd of children had begun to disperse, when the mushola was already quiet he walked towards there to meet the ustadzah.
"Assalamu'alaikum ...." Niar said hello.
"Wala'ikum hail, Niar. Coming in!"
"Let's read the prayer first before learning to read the iqra'. That yesterday's spit isn't it?" Ustadzah who knew Niar was so friendly greeting.
"Already, Mom."
"Yes, read his prayer first. Just continued to teach iqra', yes."
The afternoon study was over when dusk almost stripped the sky. Ustadzah told Niar to pray together and after that just returned home.
The sky had turned almost dark. But a speck of blue sky is still visible. There was no fear of walking down the street, the little girl seemed happy to walk by occasionally looking at the sky that had appeared one, two, three stars with a bias of light.
"Assalamu'alaikum." Niar took off the sandals and entered the house. In the dining room we gathered for dinner.
Niar approached and crucified his mother's hand.
"Why did he go home till night?" Mr. Bejo asked. Mr. Bejo is Niar's father.
"So, Ma'am Niar's teacher prayed maghrib in the mosque, so he went home a long time ago, sir," Niar replied by crucifying the back of his father's hand with reverence.
Mr. Bejo was speechless looking at Niar's face, plain and radiant like the face of a child his age. However, who would have thought that such a small girl had already borne the burden of heartache. He was a good boy, but he had no good fortune.
"Let's eat," asked Mr. Bejo to shift his mind. He is not too fierce like Sumiati but the treatment is not much different. Rarely pay attention to children because they are busy working. Sometimes he also scolded Niar because of the incitement of his wife. Although in the heart is not hearty, but the burden of thoughts about the economy makes him indifferent to the family.
He could not be a good priest for his family.
"Yes-yes, I'll get it." Sumiati deftly took away her daughter's request.
Moreover, what Niar noticed besides the attention of Sumiati to her brother. The boy had the same wish, but never got it. Little things like that hurt her.
Mr. Bejo turned to look at Niar's gaze, he knew very well the wishes of his second daughter. "Mom, Niar also brought the chicken," Mr. Bejo ordered his wife.
Sumiati. "Take it yourself, you can. Usually take it yourself!" Sumiati answered.
Mr. Bejo breathed a long breath, now he himself is taking the side dishes for Niar.
"Not much, sir. Inget we must save. Sometimes work is money, sometimes not. If you eat do not waste!" cibir Sumiati with his glance.
"Mom, don't start. At least tonight we're eating peacefully, not fighting! You are tired all day work, at home Mother always fuss," said Mr. Bejo held back upset.
Sumiati instantly silenced her mouth, but her heart was cursing at her second child. Whatever the commotion that occurred always blamed Niar, who was considered the unlucky child carrier.
"A meal" Mr. Bejo ordered Niar.
"Yes, Sir. Thanks." Thanks."
After dinner, Mr. Bejo and Sumiati sat in front of the television. Niar and Nesva work on PR.
"Wild, where did you get the new pencil from?" Nesva glanced at the pencil Niar used.
"Dikasih his mother Aris, brother."
"You're pretty much the same bude Tini. You're not deket, are you, same Brother Aris? tomorrow if I grow up I want to marry her. Don't take him, watch out for you!" nesva Ancam.
"Sister, I'm not close to Aris."
"Here's your pen for me." Nesva wants to get Niar's pencil. It has become a habit, whatever items Niar has always been forcibly requested.
"Don't Brother!" Niar kept his pencil.
There was a pencil scramble between the two, and Sumiati's thunderous voice stopped.
Especially if Sumiati does not put forward Nesva's wishes, take Niar's pencil and give it to his favorite daughter.
There were sobs held back from Niar, letting go of the newly purchased pencils snatched by his brother. Small events are not the first time, often repeated. Again, it is always him who has to give up.
The school equipment. After that, he went into the room. Open a small window in the corner of the room and look at the sky that has now been perfectly studded with stars.
"Mr.E ...." Only the little cat is the only friend talking. Niar lifted the cat up and put it on his lap. "Pus-pus, why is Nesva's mother and sister always like that? Never been good with me? My pencil was taken again with Sister Nesva" he sadly confided. The little hand stroked the fluffy fur of the cat. The cat retorted with a rubbing of his head at Niar's hand.
"If I don't obey them, I'm afraid I'm just like you. Where will I live?"
"You won't live anywhere, Niar. Stay here because this is your home too." Mr. Bejo's voice surprised Niar, Niar's gaze fixed on his father.
"Mr?"