The final period of the school day was always a test of psychological endurance for high school students, and the occupants of Class XII Science 1 were no exception.
The afternoon sun of Sukabumi was a relentless, searing force, piercing through the half-closed blinds and casting long, jagged stripes of orange light across the room. Dust motes danced in those shafts of light, swirling in the heavy, stagnant air—a visual representation of the restless silence that gripped the class.
Civics and Citizenship Education (PPKn) with Mr. Bambang was usually a recipe for boredom. Mr. Bambang was a senior teacher with a voice so monotonous it resembled a late-night AM radio broadcast running on dying batteries.
However, today felt different. The air in the room felt thick, charged with an unspoken tension. Mr. Bambang had decided to tackle a sensitive, almost taboo topic in a school built on wealth: Social Justice.
On the whiteboard, a single sentence was written in bold, white chalk:
"Social Justice for All People of Indonesia. Myth or Fact?"
"I want an open, unfiltered discussion today," Mr. Bambang said, loosening his tie as if it were a noose. "We hear the Fifth Principle of Pancasila recited every Monday during the flag ceremony. But in practice—within our nation, or even within the microcosm of this elite school—is justice actually upheld? Speak your minds. Your participation will be recorded for your final grade."
The classroom fell into a cautious silence. The topic was heavy. For these children of the elite, speaking the truth could be seen as subversive; for someone like Salim, it could be a social suicide.
Rinto raised his hand with practiced confidence. He sat in the middle row, surrounded by his "cronies"—a clique of wealthy heirs who shared his taste for expensive watches and arrogance. He rolled his sleeves up to his elbows, pointedly displaying a Tag Heuer watch that cost more than Salim's total living expenses for two years.
"Yes, Rinto? Please, the floor is yours," Mr. Bambang invited.
Rinto stood up, smoothing his collar before offering a thin, condescending smirk.
"In my opinion, Sir, justice already exists. It's just that the definition is often misinterpreted by... certain people," Rinto began, his voice laced with a subtle venom. He shot a quick, predatory glance toward the back corner where Salim sat, calmly twirling his pen.
"And what do you mean by that?" Mr. Bambang prodded.
"Many people think justice means 'equality of outcome.' That everyone gets the same slice of the pie. But true justice is proportional, Sir," Rinto continued, his voice rising in volume.
"Those who work harder, those who have more capital to invest—it is only logical that they receive more. The poor often blame the 'system' for their failures, when the problem is likely their own mentality. They are lazy, they refuse to innovate, and they simply wait for government handouts. That isn't injustice; that's Natural Selection."
The sleepy atmosphere of the room evaporated instantly. Rinto's argument was sharp, elitist, and profoundly provocative. A few students nodded in agreement—those born with silver spoons in their mouths. But most remained silent, shifting uncomfortably in their seats.
Dani, sitting next to Salim, clenched his fists under the desk. "Look at this bastard," he whispered, his face turning red. "He talks about 'hard work' when he only got into this school because his father greased the back wheels."
Salim gently placed a hand on Dani's arm to keep him grounded. His face remained a mask of stoic indifference, but his eyes were locked onto Rinto's back. He knew Rinto wasn't debating politics. Rinto was attacking him. This was a direct retaliation for Maya's attention.
"Does anyone wish to offer a rebuttal?" Mr. Bambang asked, his eyes glinting with interest at the escalating tension.
Salim raised his hand. The movement was slow, deliberate, and entirely devoid of aggression.
"Yes, Salim. Let's hear your take."
Salim didn't stand up. He leaned back in his chair, a relaxed posture that somehow commanded more attention than Rinto's stiff stance.
"Rinto's theory is fascinating, Sir," Salim said, his calm voice cutting through the thick air. "But there is a critical variable he forgot to include in his 'justice' equation: The Starting Line."
Rinto turned around, crossing his arms and raising an eyebrow in a silent challenge.
"What are you talking about?" Rinto asked, his tone discarding any pretense of classroom etiquette.
"Think of it as a 100-meter sprint," Salim continued, his gaze level and unblinking. "You say the winner is the one who puts in the most effort. Fine. I agree. But the problem is, you started your sprint at the 80-meter mark because your father provided the best shoes, a personal trainer, and elite nutrition. Meanwhile, someone else has to start at the zero-meter mark—barefoot, hungry, and with their legs chained by their parents' debts."
Salim offered a slanted, cold smirk. "If that barefoot runner loses to you, is it fair to say he lost because of a 'lazy mentality'? Even though moving just one meter for him requires ten times the energy you need to reach the finish line?"
"Social justice isn't about dividing the prizes equally, Rinto. It's about leveling the starting line. Or at the very least, unlocking the chains from the legs of the poor runner so he actually has a chance to run," Salim concluded.
Dani clapped his hands once, very softly. "Checkmate, Boss," he whispered.
Rinto's face turned a violent shade of crimson. His meritocratic argument had been dismantled by a simple, undeniable analogy. His ego was bleeding, especially as he noticed Maya in the front row staring at Salim with a look of pure, unadulterated admiration—a look she had never once bestowed upon him.
Rinto lost his composure. He abandoned logic and resorted to the only weapon he had left: ad hominem.
"Words! That's all you have!" Rinto spat, his voice reaching a fever pitch. "The reality is, people like you only know how to complain about the starting line. You're in this school because of cross-subsidies from my tuition fees! I pay a fortune so this school can grant scholarships to parasites like you!"
"Rinto!" Mr. Bambang barked. "Watch your language. Do not make this personal."
But Rinto was already in too deep. He ignored the teacher, pointing a trembling finger at Salim's face.
"I saw you in the canteen today! Pretending to reject Maya's food just to eat it anyway. That's a beggar's mentality, Salim. You use your wealthy friends—Dani, Rizki, Maya—just so you can get a taste of the good life. You think they're actually your friends? They just feel sorry for you! You're just their pet so they can feel humble and noble!"
SLAM!
The sound of a hand striking a desk echoed through the room like a gunshot.
It wasn't Salim. It wasn't Dani.
It was Maya.
Maya stood up from her chair, her chest heaving with ragged breaths. Her wooden chair had been pushed back so violently it nearly toppled. Her beautiful face, usually the epitome of softness and grace, was now flushed with a terrifying, righteous fury.
"That is enough, Rinto!" Maya screamed. Her voice trembled, not with fear, but with an overflow of raw emotion.
The entire class was paralyzed. Rinto flinched, his bravado evaporating. He had never seen Maya this angry. She was the "Old Money" princess—polite, refined, and conflict-averse.
"You've gone too far," Maya said, her eyes glistening with unshed tears as she glared at Rinto. "How do you measure a person's worth? By the brand of their shoes? By the car they drive? By how much tuition their parents pay?"
"Maya, I was just—" Rinto tried to defend himself, his voice cracking.
"Shut up!" Maya cut him off. She stepped out from behind her desk and stood in the aisle, positioning herself like a living shield between Rinto and Salim. "For your information, Salim has never asked for a single thing from us. Not food, not a ride home. We are the ones who offer because we value him as a friend, not as a charity case!"
Maya pointed a trembling finger at Rinto's chest. "You call him a parasite? Look in a mirror, Rinto! Without your father's money, who are you? What can you actually do? Salim can solve calculus problems without a single tool. Salim can make a 'killer' teacher smile. Salim has a brain and a heart that your Black Card could never buy!"
"Maya, that's enough..." Rizki called out softly, attempting to intervene as the situation spiraled out of control.
"No, Rizki. He needs to hear this," Maya said, her gaze never wavering from Rinto. "You're jealous, aren't you? You're jealous because Salim has something you'll never have, no matter how rich you are. You don't have anyone's sincere respect. People are your friends because of your money, Rinto. But people are Salim's friends because he is Salim."
The words hit Rinto harder than any physical blow. It was the truth he had spent his life denying, screamed into his face by the girl he desired most.
Rinto stood frozen, his face pale and then dark with a shame so profound it was visceral. He looked around. His classmates were staring at him with a mixture of pity and disgust.
Mr. Bambang cleared his throat loudly, breaking the suffocating tension.
"Enough. Everyone, sit down," Mr. Bambang commanded with an authority that brooked no argument. "Maya, Rinto—sit. This debate has completely derailed."
Maya took a long, shaky breath, wiping a stray tear from the corner of her eye before reclaiming her seat. She didn't look back, but her shoulders were still tense.
Salim stared at Maya's back with an unreadable expression. A warmth spread through his chest—a deep sense of gratitude for being defended so fiercely. But at the same time, his mathematical mind was screaming a warning.
Maya... you just declared open war on Rinto for my sake. You've drawn a line that can't be uncrossed. In this school, you won the moral debate. But in the real world, this courage might just become a boomerang.
Salim knew Rinto wasn't the type to introspect after a scolding. Rinto was the type to harbor a grudge, to nurture it, and to let it explode when the opportunity arose. And that opportunity, Salim feared, was coming sooner than anyone realized.
"Listen to me, students," Mr. Bambang said, attempting to regain focus even though the atmosphere was shattered. He stood in front of his desk, looking at each of them with an uncharacteristically grim expression.
"You live in a comfortable bubble right now. Some are rich, some are less fortunate. Some hold power, some are commoners. Here, in this classroom, your parents' status still protects you."
Mr. Bambang paused, his eyes lingering on Rinto, then shifting to Salim.
"But mark my words. The world outside is a jungle. And sometimes, extreme situations arise where money has no value. Where your father's famous name cannot help you. In those moments, 'justice' will find its own form—a primal form. The strong and the intelligent are the only ones who survive."
"I hope you are ready for when that day comes. Because when human laws crumble, only the laws of nature remain."
The bell rang sharply, cutting off Mr. Bambang's prophecy like a guillotine.
Students scrambled out of the room faster than usual, desperate to escape the lingering toxicity. Rinto snatched his bag, kicked a table leg as he passed, and shot a final, murderous glare at Salim before disappearing without a word.
Salim remained seated, slowly packing away his single pen. Dani and Rizki waited for him.
"Man... Maya was savage," Dani whispered in awe. "I literally had goosebumps. It was like watching a lioness protect her..."
"Her what?" Salim raised an eyebrow.
"You know what I mean! Her partner! Stop playing dumb," Dani corrected with a grin.
Maya approached their table. She had calmed down, but her face still held traces of the emotional storm.
"Salim, I'm sorry I got so emotional," Maya said softly, reverting to a more intimate tone even though she was still a bit shaken. "I just couldn't stand him talking to you like that."
Salim stood up, slinging his bag over his shoulder. He looked at Maya intently. For once, there was no sarcasm, no dry joke.
"Thank you, Maya," Salim said sincerely. "But next time, don't waste your energy on someone like Rinto. He isn't worth an emotion as expensive as yours."
Maya offered a thin, relieved smile. "As long as he attacks my friends, I won't stay quiet."
"Let's get out of here," Rizki suggested. "I'm buying ice cream. My head is spinning from Rinto's nonsense."
The four of them walked out of the classroom together. In the crowded corridor, they looked like a solid, unbreakable unit. But in the back of Salim's mind, Mr. Bambang's warning continued to echo.
The strong and the intelligent are the only ones who survive.
Salim watched Rinto's retreating figure at the end of the hall, then looked at Maya beside him. He realized one thing: If that jungle law ever truly came to pass, Rinto would surely target Maya to get to him. And Salim swore, if that time ever came, he wouldn't use mathematics to solve it. He would use a method far more calculated, and far more painful.
The Sukabumi sky that evening was the color of blood—as if the universe itself was signaling that the peaceful days of Rajawali High were counting down to their inevitable destruction.