“You’re lucky your back isn’t stinging,” Anatov said. “Sugar Cream has the flogging done by a very muscular lad.” He stood up and strolled around them with his hands behind his back. “This changes things some. If it weren’t for Sunny’s recklessness, I’d have sent y’all to meet Sugar Cream and get a tour of the Obi Library-not including the fourth floor, of course.”
Sunny was relieved when no one seemed angry.
“Today will be short,” he said. “I’ll lecture on some important jujus. Then you can try a few of the advanced ones.” He sat down and flicked his long beard over his shoulder. “Healing juju is tricky. Do it wrong and you worsen the ailment. First you find the cause. Let’s say that a man has a boil on his nyash.”
Orlu, Chichi, and Sunny snickered. Sasha only frowned.
“You don’t know what nyash means, do you?” Anatov asked Sasha. “Come now. Of all words.”
“It’s ‘ass,’ in Pidgin English,” Chichi said, still laughing.
Sasha humphed and looked away.
“Work harder on your Pidgin English and your Igbo,” Anatov told Sasha. “You don’t even know any general curse words yet? Pathetic.”
“I’m working as hard as I can,” Sasha replied in perfect Igbo. He even managed to hide his American accent. Sunny had to admit, she was impressed.
“Work harder,” Anatov replied in English. “So, back to the nyash. I am a man with a boil on my nyash. I want it gone before my wife sees it. What do I do?”
“Squeeze it,” Sasha said. They all burst out laughing.
“That would leave a sore that could get infected,” Anatov said, remaining serious. “Such a simple problem and not one of you can tell me how to quickly cure it?”
“You’ll have to make a strong medicine,” Chichi said.
“Yes, but a strong medicine can take all night,” Anatov said. After a moment, he said, “Open your books to page one hundred eighteen.”
The chapter was titled “Reknitting: Fast Healing by Hand.” Anatov read the second paragraph aloud: “There is only one way to swiftly heal the body. You must undo and then reknit the cells. Those who excel at this must have fast hands and superb spatial skills. Males possess this skill in greater quantities than females. With young people, simply look to their ability to play video games for your answer.”
Anatov looked up from his book. “I want you all to look at yourselves and locate an ailment. Could be a cut, a scratch, bruise, or pimple.”
Sunny still had plenty of bruises and scratches from her fight with Jibaku.
Anatov held up a small vial containing a light blue substance. “You’re to go to Leopard Knocks on your own time and buy some of this,” he said. “It’s called Healing Hands powder. Come and take a pinch. You should have this with you at all times-just in case.”
The powder was hot between Sunny’s fingers, but not unpleasantly so.
“If you hold it long enough, the part of your skin that is touching it will develop a cancer,” Anatov said.
They all froze. “What!” cried Sasha.
“Patience,” Anatov firmly said. “I know this might be hard, knowing what you know, but you need to stand still enough to hear your heartbeat. If you don’t, it won’t work.” He waited.
“Close your eyes,” he said. “The blood your heart pumps nourishes every part of you, including the part you wish to heal. Imagine sailing through your veins to that ailing place. You see it? Now imagine that you’re bringing that part of you forward. It detaches and now floats before you. See it rotate so you can look at it from all angles.”
Sunny imagined the dark purple black bruise on her bicep where Jibaku had punched her, the bruise she wished would go away before her mother saw it. She imagined the flesh under her skin, full of burst blood vessels.
“Keep your eyes closed,” Anatov said. “Now, quickly, blow the powder at what you see!”
She held her fingers to her lips and blew. Immediately her bicep felt as if it had caught fire. She screeched, grabbing her arm.
“Looks like we have a result,” Anatov said, smiling wide.
Sunny’s arm gradually began to feel better. She looked at it and laughed. “It’s gone!”
“Yours worked?” Chichi asked, surprised. “Nothing happened to the rash on my ankle.”
“Nothing happened to my scratch, either,” Sasha said.
Sunny smirked, feeling even more satisfied with herself.
“You didn’t visualize well enough,” Anatov said. “Orlu? What of you?”
“Yeah, the scrape I had on my leg is gone,” he said. “But I didn’t feel any pain, like Sunny did.”
“You have more control,” Anatov said, placing a hand on Orlu’s head. Then he placed a hand on Sunny’s. “You, Sunny, have more power. Sasha, Chichi, you need more practice. I’m not surprised you couldn’t get it to work at all. All of you, go scrub your hands of every trace of the powder.”
The next two hours were tough. Sunny could barely keep up, even when he discussed things from the juju knife book. And because she had no juju knife, she was forced to shadow everyone else’s motions, which felt silly. She soon went from feeling powerful to pathetic. It was more than clear that Orlu, Chichi, and Sasha had years on her, had upbringing on her. They were so natural as Leopard folk, whereas she was stumbling around in the dark.
When they were finished, Anatov made an announcement. “Next Saturday, we go to Abuja. We go for two reasons. First, Sunny will pick out her juju knife.”
“We’re going to see Junk Man!” Chichi exclaimed.
“Second, I’m taking you all to the Zuma Festival to see your first Zuma National Wrestling Match finals. I need to be at an important meeting of scholars, so this trip will kill multiple birds with one stone.”
Sasha looked delighted, and for once, Orlu’s reaction matched his. “I’ve always wanted to see the finals,” Orlu said. “I hope no one’s killed, though.”
“Yes, it’s often a fight to the death,” Anatov said with a mysterious smile.
How was Sunny supposed to pull this one off? An entire day and night? And Abuja was hours away by car. She had to lie. It was the only way.
Chichi was in on the plan. Two days later, Sunny invited her to dinner. Chichi made sure to dress up. She wore a nice yellow rapa with green designs on it and a yellow shirt. Her short Afro was brushed out. She even wore silver hoop earrings.
Sunny’s father was still at his office working on a case, but that was fine. It was her mother they had to really convince. Why did her brothers have to be around, though?
“Good evening,” Chukwu said as she showed Chichi in. He looked her up and down. Sunny almost wished Chichi had come in her usual shabby clothes. Chukwu held out a hand. “I’m Sunny’s oldest brother, Chukwu.”
“Nice to meet you,” she said, shaking his hand. She looked him in the eye as she did so. Sunny didn’t like that, either.
“My sister has told me so much about you,” he said.
Sunny rolled her eyes. She hadn’t told him a thing. Ugonna stood behind him, apparently unable to speak.
“Mhm.” Chichi smirked flirtatiously. “There’s plenty of me to talk about.”
Chukwu’s eyes were flashing with interest as he sidled closer, a lazy smile on his face. Sunny wanted to gag.
“You know,” he said, “I’m captain of my school football team and the best player.”
“Oh,” Chichi said. “Is that because Sunny can’t play in the sun?”
Ugonna and Sunny snickered.
“Come on now,” Chukwu said in his buttery voice, trying to hide the fact that Chichi had thrown him off. “Football is a man’s game.”
That was enough. Sunny groaned and took her friend’s arms. “Back off,” she said, pushing Chukwu aside. She took Chichi to the kitchen to meet her mother.
“Your brothers are pretty,” Chichi said as she pushed her along.
“Yeah, pretty stupid, maybe.” But Sunny was more nervous about what was coming next. “Okay, now don’t say anything weird or anything, all right?”
Chichi sucked her teeth.
“Hi, Mama,” Sunny said. Her heart was beating so fast. “This is Chichi.”
“Hello,” her mother said, putting down her wooden spoon. “So finally I get to see this girl that my daughter spends so much time with.”
“It’s nice to meet you, Mrs. Nwazue.” Chichi said. Sunny had never heard Chichi sound so respectful, which was a good thing. If Chichi stepped out of line once, Sunny knew there was no way they could get her mother to agree to a sleepover.
“How is your mother?” Sunny’s mother asked, looking Chichi over and sitting before them at the table.
“Oh, she’s fine,” Chichi said.
“Your mother and I went to the same secondary school.”
“Really?” Sunny asked, truly interested.
“I didn’t know that,” Chichi said, frowning.
“Mhm,” her mother said. “Asuquo was a year ahead of me, but we all knew her. She was good in literature and writing, like Sunny here.”
“My mother doesn’t talk too much about her school days,” Chichi said, sounding annoyed. “Not the ones here, at least. She says school is-”
Sunny stepped on Chichi’s foot.
Chichi smiled. “Oh, never mind.”
Her mother’s smile wavered. “What does your mother do now?”
Sunny pressed her foot harder on Chichi’s foot.
“She-she teaches,” Chichi said. “She teaches writing.”
“Oh? Where?”
“There’s a-small school in Aba,” she said. “She teaches there.”
“Well, that’s very nice,” her mother said. “Is this the school you attend, then?”
“Mama, her father’s that famous musician Nyanga Tolotolo,” Sunny blurted out.
“What?” her mother said, surprised. “Really?” Chichi nodded. “Sunny’s father absolutely loves his music. I didn’t know that!” Her mother looked more closely at Chichi, probably remembering the hut that Chichi lived in.
“Yeah,” Chichi said. “We don’t hear much from him, though. The most I’ve seen of him has been on his DVDs and TV commercials.”
“Oh, I’m sorry,” her mother said. There was an awkward pause. “Well, there’s some jallof rice and plantain. Take as much as you want.” She got up. “It was good to finally meet you, Chichi. Greet your mother for me.”
As she was leaving, Chichi said, “Mrs. Nwazue?”
She turned around. “Mhm?”
“Can Sunny sleep over at my place this weekend?”
Her mother stood there for a moment.
“We’ll be good,” Chichi added, with a winning smile. “I know how Sunny was late getting home that day and all. It won’t happen again.”
Her mother looked shrewdly at Chichi. Then she said, “Make me a promise, then. Promise that-promise that you’ll both behave and be responsible.”
Sunny almost shivered at her mother’s intensity. “We will, Mama,” she said.
“Certainly, Mrs. Nwazue,” Chichi said.
Her mother stood there looking from Chichi to Sunny. She seemed to think for a moment, as if she was making a big decision. Then she nodded. “Be back on Sunday, by dinner.” The girls stood in silence as her mother filled a plate and left the room.
“What was that about?” Chichi asked. “She sounded like she was sending you to your death.” Sunny just shook her head. Chichi grabbed Sunny’s shoulders. “You’re going! This is going to be great!”
Sunny smiled, but still felt ill at ease.
“Woohoo!” Chichi said, sitting down. “That felt like a job interview.”
“Yeah,” she said.
“Well, it’s over. Cheer up, eh? Come on, let’s eat! I’m so hungry.” Chichi took a few mouthfuls. “Your mother is a great cook!” She paused. “You ever been to Abuja?”
“Shhh, lower your voice.”
“Sorry,” Chichi whispered, giggling.
“Twice. My aunt, my father’s oldest sister lives there.”
“I love Abuja,” Chichi said. “The air is so dry, and that big mosque is lovely.”
“And the roads aren’t so bumpy.”
Chichi laughed. “Yeah, that, too.”
“So is there anything I’ll have to do?” Sunny asked. “You know, like when I was initiated?” She shuddered, remembering the mud, dirt, and rushing river water.
“No,” Chichi said. “But don’t get too cozy. You know what we have to do about Black Hat.”
Sunny shuddered again. “Just-just tell me about this juju knife stuff.”
“We go see this man called Junk Man and you buy one from him. It’s simple.” She smiled. “You’ll see.”
Sunny hoped so.