FLOWER WARS

Chapters 10. Sneaking out.

For a lifetime, only this time Bunga entered into a boutique in the center of Semarang city shopping. The interior of the boutique that is classic European design is so elegant. Even the clothes sold there.

"The price of this dress is expensive" said a boutique keeper at Bunga as the girl was examining a knee-high green canal dress, with a large belt around her waist. She was a woman in her thirties, white and red-haired.

"It's expensive?" ask Flowers.

"Ja, it's expensive, '" the boutique keeper said, looking down at Flowers. "But, Meneer Janssen will pay for you, won't he?" He turned his gaze to Jacob who was looking at the men's clothes.

"It looks like it is."

The woman sneered. "You're lucky."

The flower frowned. Before answering the boutique guard's words, Jacob hurriedly came to him.

"Alstublieft (Please), Meneer Janssen," said the boutique keeper kindly.

"Have you met his shirt?" jacob asked the Flowers.

"Maybe this one." Flowers show the clothes they choose.

"Oh, great. You wanna try it first?" tawar Jacob's.

Flowers nod. He turned his eyes to the shopkeeper. The woman pointed at a room whose door was only covered by a black cloth.

"You're great, Meneer Janssen. Still young, but already have Nyai," said the boutique keeper as soon as Bunga entered the cubicle.

"He's not Nyai. He's my schoolmate" Jacob said proudly.

"Owh, really?" The boutique guard nodded. His facial expression showed that he was a little surprised.

"He was a smart student. He's even smarter than me."

The woman again showed an expression of shock on her face. If Jacob's words were true, it astonished him. A native can get into an elite school, with a smart brain anyway. It seems that it is impossible.

"Many indigenous people are intelligent. Just so you know," said Jacob as if he could read the contents of the head of the shopkeeper.

"Oh, huh?"

"Of course it is. Race is not the size of a person it's smart or stupid."

"It's hard to believe" said the woman. "We know for ourselves they are .. primitive." He lowered his voice, then giggled while covering his mouth with a palm.

"Primitive people are people who consider others primitive, Miss Meijer," Jacob said, leaving the smile of the woman called Miss Meijer gone.

While in the room, Bunga smiled obliquely listening to the conversation of Jacob and the boutique keeper. Jacob had always defended him from people who wanted to demean him. Sometimes it makes the flowers.

"How's it?" ask the flowers when they come out of the room. His chin was raised to give an elegant impression. Especially in front of Miss Meijer who thinks she's a primitive person.

Jacob's eyes were perfectly rounded. The green sleeveless dress is so fitting wrapped the body of Flowers. Although without makeup, the girl already looked so beautiful.

"Perfect (perfect)." For a moment, his best friend stunned Jacob. "Died to choose shoes" he said later while chortling his throat.

***

The surprised flower did not play while sneaking into the kitchen and stepping slowly while on tiptoes towards the back door. Although he was relieved, the person who caught him was Mbok Pai.

The girl stuck her index finger to her lips, hinting the old woman to be quiet. "I'm going to Janssen's party" he whispered.

Mbok Pai rounded his eyes. "Ojo weirdo to, Nduk (Don't be weird, son)!"

"Group!" hiss Flowers. "His speech, Mbok, you'll hear me and Mom." Panic flowers as Mbok Pai makes a little loud noise.

"You want to go to the Janssen house? Want to go to the party?" mbok Pai asked as he lowered his voice.

"Yes. Already, yes, Mbok. I'm late." The flower pushed the wooden door in front of him and slipped out. But, a moment later, his head poked out from behind the door.

"Mbok Pai is silent, yes," Threatened Bunga to his maid.

If it wasn't for Jacob begging him to come to the party, Bunga wouldn't have risked going out of the house all night like this.

The reason, in the past, he had once caught his father sneaking out at night to accompany Jacob hunting rice crickets.

Late at night he came home dressed in mud, and his father, who happened to be awake, caught him coming in from the back door. Flowers were locked up for two weeks in the room as punishment.

Flowers walked quickly down the path from the direction of his house to the highway. Actually Jacob's house is not too far if taken by vehicle. But, if you have to walk like this, it will be quite tiring.

She covered her head and the dress she was wearing with knit cloth. In addition to keeping watch if he runs into someone who might know him, also to dispel the cold air that night.

Luckily, he only passed by a few freight carriages and the coachman did not pay much attention to him.

Flowers arrived in front of the gate of the large white-painted house. He looked over from behind the slightly open gate. The atmosphere inside seemed to be crowded. He could see people coming in and out of the main door. All are white people. Bunga had not seen any native people attending the party.

"Hey! You!"

The call came from the side yard. A middle-aged white woman walked towards him with a fierce face.

"You're the one who replaced Mbok Konah, right? Come, hurry. You're overdue. The party has already begun!"

"No! I'm not ...."

The woman did not care what the flowers said. He pulled the girl's arm and dragged her beside the building.

"Why wear clothes like this? Are you the Madam?" The woman rebuked when she arrived in the kitchen. A few native maids who were busy preparing dishes as well as drinks, looked towards Bunga at a glance. Then back to their busy lives.

"Change your clothes with this!" snapped at the woman who, from her looks, was a mixture of white and indigenous descent. His nose was sharp, his skin was white, but his irises and hair were black.

The woman threw the kebaya and cloth at the flower she had taken from the wooden cupboard near the kitchen door.

"But I'm not ...."

"Hurry up!" cut the girl. "The drink must be delivered now!"

Somehow, a few moments later Bunga had changed his clothes with the clothes given by the woman. In his hand was now a tray containing several long-legged glasses filled with a deep red liquid.

***