At the beginning of primary, there are two victims. Divya Menon is a small girl, frail, and absent half the school days in a year. She is always very sickly, coughing or sneezing so often that her husky voice is almost no voice at all. Her father, working for one of the oil palm corporations, was transferred to one of the huge plantations in Bukit Pelanduk as manager. She came here and was my friend almost instantly. She is the only girl I find agreeable, and we are friends. We have stuck. They tease us, of course: "Eh, look, Zedeck and Divya: boyfriend, girlfriend." They do not matter. We do not need them. We are the most intelligent persons ever. They'll see.

During recess one Friday, I find a litter of kittens, three of them, secreted in an old piece of concrete. Look at them. They cannot be any more than a few days old, maybe a week. Thank goodness no idiot has found them yet. I urge one of them onto my palm; I clutch it and bring it to my face. Just look at it. The eyes aren't even open yet. I touch the kitten's little furry head: it squirms in my hand. No, no, I won't hurt you, don't be alarmed. How can I hurt you? You're one of the most beautiful things I've ever seen.

Divya finishes her sandwich and walks to me. "What's that? Oh no, you can't touch it. No, you can't. My mommy said that if you touch a kitten its mother wouldn't want it any more. You have to put it back."

I carefully put it down, and we squat, waiting for the mother to return. The kittens squirm and shiver. I hope didn't do anything wrong. Where is the mother? She doesn't come; the bell rings and Divya urges me away.

After the weekend I come back to check. There is only one kitten left, covered in a living skin of ants.

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