Akata Witch (26 page)

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Authors: Nnedi Okorafor

Tags: #United States, #Nigeria, #Africa, #Albinos and Albinism, #Fantasy & Magic, #Crime, #Magic, #People & Places, #African American, #Serial Murderers, #Supernatural, #Fiction, #Juvenile Fiction, #Mysteries & Detective Stories

BOOK: Akata Witch
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He pulled away and got up again. She shielded her eyes and looked at him. Orlu seemed far from himself, calm and unafraid. He was holding out his hands and bringing them in, holding out his hands and bringing them in. Each time he did this, more insects piled themselves under the masquerade’s cloth.

“Go home,” he coaxed in Igbo. She could hear his voice through the screaming and buzzing. “You’ve seen, you have stung, you have terrified—now, go home.”

Soon Orlu had made the masquerade gather itself completely, and there it stood. It pointed at Chichi, who was looking up from her crouched position. It spoke something in what Sunny assumed to be Efik. Then it slowly descended back into its termite mound and the mound descended back into the earth.

“Is everyone all right?” Orlu asked.

 

 

 

They walked briskly to the festival entrance. It was a quarter past eleven. They were late. “Don’t,” Orlu said, walking fast. “I hate false apologies.”

“I’m not apologizing,” Chichi said, almost running to keep up with him. “I’m just thanking you!”

“Shut up,” Orlu snapped.

“Don’t be such a tight-ass,” Sasha said, rubbing one of his many stings.

Orlu stopped so abruptly that Sunny ran into his back. She didn’t want to talk about any of it. She just wanted to find Anatov, go back to the hotel, check her skin for stingers she’d missed, rub her entire body with calamine lotion, and go to sleep.

“Do you have
any
idea what
could
have happened?” Orlu shouted. “Everyone
knows
how brilliant you are! I guess you needed to show how
stupid
you are, too!”

“No one was really hurt, though,” Chichi pointed out. “Everyone will just use some Healing Hands powder to get rid of the stings.”


Not
because of you!”

“Hey, I knew you were there,” she said. “You think I didn’t consider that?”

“You always make a mess assuming I’ll clean it up,” Orlu said. “Why don’t you try to learn some undoing jujus yourself?”

“Because
you
were born with it,” Chichi snapped. “You can always save the day.”

Orlu looked disgusted. “
Don’t
make this about me. People could have died because of you. You called up Mmuo Aku! If it had decided to start
really
stinging—ugh! Don’t you read up on things before calling on them?” He took a deep breath. “And what did it say to you?”

Chichi opened her mouth but then just stubbornly looked away. “It’s my business,” she mumbled.

“Let me guess,” Orlu said sarcastically. “The damn thing said ‘thank you’ before it went back.”

“Sorry,” Chichi said quietly.

“I said, I don’t want your apologies,” Orlu shouted, walking off.

Anatov looked angry but very tired when they got to the entrance. About fifty other people were also waiting for the funky train.

“You’re lucky it’s late,” he said. “Otherwise, I’d have left it to y’all to find your way to the hotel.” They apologized. He yawned and waved a hand at them. “So I hear you four have made a name for yourselves this year.”

They all looked at their feet.

“How many
chittim
fell when it was over?”

“Seven coppers,” Orlu mumbled. “We could have gotten people
killed
and we got paid for it.”

“As a group you made a mistake and you learned you could also right it,” Anatov said. “Get on the bus. Sasha, you’re an idiot.”

Sasha looked surprised and then looked at his hands.

Disgusted, Anatov continued, “Orlu’s mother told me right away about all the noise that night and how the house felt as if it were underwater. Obviously, you called Mmuo Miri, and she is
not
like that small one you called back in the States. Mmuo Miri is a water masquerade that only an experienced third leveler has
any
business calling. You could have all drowned in that house. Do you have some sort of death wish?”

He didn’t wait for an answer. “Orlu’s mother and I agreed that you’d survived an episode of stupidity and probably wouldn’t make the mistake again. You proved us both wrong tonight, Sasha.” Anatov leaned toward Sasha. “I will have you caned by the strongest man in Nigeria if you pull something like this again. Understood?”

Sasha nodded.

“I will let you keep that book, but I expect you to act like you have some brains.” He turned to Chichi. “And
you
are to report to the council with me first thing when we get home.”

The trip home was nothing like the trip there. Chichi barely spoke a word, nor did Orlu. Sasha and Sunny chatted briefly with Godwin before he took his seat. “I couldn’t sleep last night,” Godwin said.

“Me neither,” Sunny said.

“I slept well,” Sasha said, smiling brightly. Sunny could tell he was lying. There were bags under Sasha’s eyes.

“You four—everyone’s talking about you,” Godwin said. “No one’s seen juju like that performed and then
stopped
by students so young. And of course people are still talking about your fast feet, Sunny, and your fast mouth, Sasha.”

“Do people hate us?” she asked.

Godwin laughed and shook his head. “This festival will be talked about for years, man.”

16

Trouble at Home

The funky train stopped right in front of Orlu’s house. Chichi had only looked away when Sunny, Orlu, and Sasha tried to say good-bye. She was going straight to Leopard Knocks with Anatov.

“I’ll see you all in two weeks,” Anatov said. “That Thursday in the P.M.” He too had been quiet through the trip. “Sunny,” he said, taking her hand before she got off, “did you have a good time?”

“Best time of my life!” she surprised herself by saying.

“Good,” he said.

“You sure you don’t want me to drop you off in front of your house?” Jesus’s General asked. “It’s no problem.”

“Oh, here is fine,” she said, quickly hopping off.

They watched the funky train drive away. “What’ll they do to her?” she asked.

“I think she’s going to get caned,” Orlu said. “That masquerade was bad, but the fact that she called it in a public place like that . . .” He shook his head.

“This is what I hated back in America,” Sasha said.

“What? That people get punished when they deserve to be?” Orlu said. “You should be going with her.”

“I should,” he said, looking at his feet. Then he sucked his teeth loudly and kicked some dirt. “No one is willing to push the envelope. So what if she called up a damn Mmuo Aku and it went wild! She still
did
it! She still performed the most sophisticated juju any of them had ever seen.”

“True, but you’re wrong,” Orlu said. “We can’t live in chaos. The ages are set for each level for a reason. You can be able to do something and not be mature enough to deal with the consequences. Just like—like a girl who develops breasts too fast. It doesn’t mean she’s mature or anything.”

“Ugh!” Sunny suddenly said. “I’m going home. I’ll see you when I see you.”

“Peace,” Sasha said, hugging her.

“See you in class,” Orlu said, also giving her a hug. After a moment’s hesitation, he kissed her on the cheek. She touched her cheek and looked at Orlu with wide eyes. Sasha chuckled. She didn’t dare look his way. As she walked slowly down the street, she heard them start arguing again.

 

Sunny returned home to music playing and her father’s laughter. His friend Ola was visiting and they were mildly drunk on palm wine as usual. “Good afternoon,” Ola said when he saw her trying to slip unnoticed to her room.

“Good afternoon,” she said, trying to shake the dislocated feeling she was experiencing. It was like two realities fighting for dominance. “Hi, Dad.” She froze. The ghost hopper was sitting on his head.

“How was your weekend?” he asked with a lopsided smile.

“Um, it was good,” she said, working hard not to look at the ghost hopper. “Dad, there’s a—a leaf on your head.”

When he brushed his head, the ghost hopper leaped onto the arm of the couch. She slipped away before he could say any more. She heard her mother laughing in the kitchen and speaking in rapid English. She had to be talking to her sister Chinwe, who lived with her African American husband in Atlanta.

“Ah, you know you miss it,” her mother was saying. “You can’t even find half the ingredients there for a decent
egusi
soup.” Pause. “I know. Mhm. I plan to, but only when she’s”—she noticed Sunny come in and smiled—“ready. You want to talk to her? She just walked in. Hang on. Sunny, come and talk to your auntie.”

Auntie Chinwe was one of Sunny’s favorites. Her mother said that she was the free spirit of the family, and that Sunny’s grandfather considered her a disappointment. In addition to marrying an
“akata,”
as her grandfather called her African American husband, Auntie had also decided not to become a doctor. Instead, she’d studied dance.

Now she was a degreed professional dancer with a group called the Women of the Bush. She taught dance at Columbia University. The DVD of her shows was one of Sunny’s most prized possessions.

“You must have had fun,” her mother said, kissing her cheek and giving her the phone.

“It was great, Mama,” she said. “Thanks for letting me go.”

She patted Sunny on the head.

“Hello?” Sunny said, holding the phone to her ear. Her mother left the room to give them a little privacy.

“Sunny,” Auntie said. “How are you?”

“I’m fine.”

“I hear you were out with your friends yesterday.”

“Yeah. It was great. It was nice to be out of the house and all.”

With her peripheral vision, she could see two ghost hoppers sitting on a bunch of plantains on the floor. One of them was munching on the stem. So there
was
more than one.

“Well, I’m glad that you’ve made some good friends, and that my sister has finally loosened the leash. You’re a responsible girl and you should be treated that way.”

Sunny felt a little guilty.

“Auntie?” She stepped over to look into the hall to make sure her mother wasn’t hiding behind the door, as she often did.

“Mhm?”

She lowered her voice. “Tell me about Grandma—just a little bit. Something. Every time I ask Mama, she refuses to tell me.” There was a pause, a long pause. “Auntie? Are you there? Hello?”

“Yes, I’m here,” Auntie said. “Where’s your mother?”

“She’ll be back in a minute.”

“Why do you want to know? Was someone teasing you?”

“No,” she said. “No—nothing like that.”

“You sure?”

“Yes,” she said. She heard footsteps. “Mama’s coming! Can you tell me—”

“No,” Auntie Chinwe said. “I can’t tell you much of anything. Our mother—your grandmother—wasn’t crazy, but she was full of secrets that she took to her grave. She never let any of us really know her.”

“But how do you know there were secrets?”

Her mother walked in.

“Because I have eyes and I have ears,” Auntie said.

“Okay, Sunny,” her mother said. “Let me finish talking to my sister before her phone card runs out.”

“Look in your mother’s side of their bedroom,” Auntie said quickly. “She keeps some things in a box, I think.”

“Okay,” she quickly said. “Love you.”

“Love you, too, sweetie,” Auntie said as her mother took the phone.

“Sister? So how are little James and Gozie?”

Sunny took a small package of biscuits and went to her room. She closed and locked the door and sunk to the floor. Never in her life had she had so much swimming in her head. Never, ever, ever. She would have curled up and gone to sleep right there if she hadn’t seen a ghost hopper sitting on her bed.

She dragged herself up. Carefully, she picked up the ghost hopper. She was surprised when it didn’t struggle. She’d seen one move lightning-fast when it wanted to, and she was sure its legs were very powerful. It weighed about a pound, and she had to use both hands. Its body felt substantial, despite its ghostly appearance. She set it on her dresser.

She lay on her bed and brought out her new juju knife. It truly was magnificent. What
was
the blade made of? She held it and at once felt that odd sensation of it being part of her.

She yelped when she felt something moving in her pocket. She was about to tear off her jeans, thinking it was a remaining wasp or ant from the masquerade, then she remembered. It felt long ago since Junk Man had given her the small blue bean. She held it up as it softly giggled and shook between her fingers. She placed it under her bed as he had instructed. Then she picked up her newspaper.

When she unrolled it, a smaller circular newspaper fell out.
Special Leopard Report,
it read. There was a soft drumbeat that reminded her of the terrifying masquerade.

 

CORRUPTION IN THE OBI LIBRARY

 

OTOKOTO THE BLACK HAT STEALS TOP-SECRET BOOK FROM THE FOURTH FLOOR

 

“My God!” Sunny flung the newspaper across the room. “No more!” Not a second passed before she heard a loud crackling sound. The bean. “Thought he said to wait a few days,” she said, frowning. She hung over the bed and watched a small blue wasp emerge. She shuddered, but then she relaxed. This wasp didn’t seem full of stinging, deadly mischief.

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