They barely ate their lunches. Even when they both received high marks on their essays in literature and writing class, they were grim. So, when they were both leaving school and Jibaku roughly pushed Sunny aside as she passed, followed by Calculus, Periwinkle, and a few others, there was bound to be trouble.
“Hey, cut it out!” Sunny screeched, running up and pushing Jibaku back. She felt the blood rush to her head. Just then, a beat-up car full of older teenage boys pulled up in front of the school. “Jibaku,” the driver called.
Sunny and Jibaku turned around. The boys got out of the car and swaggered into the school yard in their baggy jeans and T-shirts. Loud hip-hop blasted from their shabby vehicle. Sunny wanted to laugh hard. They were trying way too hard to mimic black American culture.
The driver pointed at Orlu. “I know you.”
“So what?” Orlu snapped, looking annoyed.
Jibaku and Sunny turned back to each other.
“Don’t touch me with your diseased hands, you freak,” Jibaku said.
“Or you’ll what? Eh?”
“I see pepper, o,” the driver said to his friends, laughing. “Dis oyibo is trouble.” He laughed harder. “Jibaku, let’s go.”
Orlu tried to pull Sunny back. She snatched her arm away. “No!” she said. “I’m not afraid of this idiot!” Jibaku instantly whirled around and launched herself at Sunny. Sunny shoved her back and threw a punch. She had two crazy brothers; she knew how to fight. And Jibaku had it coming.
Jibaku screeched, clasping her eye. She came at Sunny again. Suddenly, they were both on the ground, rolling in the dust, kicking and punching and scratching. Sunny was a hurricane of rage, only vaguely aware of Orlu and the boys exchanging angry words. A crowd gathered. She didn’t care. She rolled on top of Jibaku and slapped her face as hard as she could.
Hands locked around her arms. Calculus and Periwinkle were dragging her off. This gave Jibaku a chance to kick Sunny in the belly, knocking the air out of her. The unfairness of the situation really made her see red. She screamed and wrenched her arms from Periwinkle and Calculus. She was on Jibaku again, pressing her to the ground. She reveled in the fear on Jibaku’s face.
“You try and beat me again-” Sunny said breathlessly. “Remember this the next time you think about it!” Without a thought, she brought forth her spirit face. “Raaaahhhh!” she roared. Jibaku screamed so loudly that everyone, including the boys, came running. Immediately, Sunny retracted her spirit face and stood.
Jibaku scrabbled away from Sunny into the guy’s arms, her eyes wide and wild. She started crying, burying her face in the guy’s chest. He pointed a finger at Orlu and Sunny. Deepening his voice for emphasis, he said, “You see me again and you go see plenty hot peppa.”
Orlu and Sunny watched them all pile into the car and drive off.
“Come on,” Orlu said. “Before the teachers come.”
They walked slowly, Sunny limping a little. Her knees were scraped and she’d bruised her arm.
“You showed her your spirit face, didn’t you?” Orlu said.
“Shut up.”
A blue Mercedes pulled up beside them. The window came down. “Sunny Nwazue?” the woman behind the wheel asked. She wore a green headwrap, dark sunglasses, and black lipstick.
“Who are-”
“Are you Sunny Nwazue?”
“Y-yes,” she said.
“Get in. You’re to be taken to the Obi Library for punishment.”
“But she didn’t mean to,” Orlu begged. “She’s a free agent, just introduced weeks ago. She didn’t work juju on anyone. She just-”
“Get in, Sunny Nwazue,” the woman repeated.
Sunny looked at Orlu. “Go,” he said. “God, that was so stupid, Sunny.”
“What’s going to happen?” she whispered.
“I don’t know,” he snapped. He cursed to himself and then said, “Go in.”
The woman drove in silence. From the back window, Sunny waved sadly at Orlu. He just looked at her. She slumped in her seat and took out her cell phone. “No reason to get in trouble twice,” she grumbled.
Her mother answered. “Dr. Nwazue speaking.”
“Hi, Mama,” she said.
“Hi, sweetie, everything okay?”
“Um, yeah,” she said, looking tentatively at the driver.
“How was school?”
“Fine,” she said, lowering her voice. “I got an A on my math exam. And I got an A on my essay in literature and writing class.”
“Wonderful.”
“Mama, can I have dinner with Chichi and Orlu tonight?” She held her breath. The family rarely had dinner together, but her mother liked her and her brothers to be in the house by nighttime.
There was a pause. “As long as you all study, too,” she finally said. Sunny breathed a sigh of relief. She hated lying. “Be back by seven. Anyway, it’s going to be a late day for both myself and your father.”
Sunny put her cell phone in her purse. “Excuse me,” she said to the woman.
She looked at Sunny in the rearview mirror.
“Will-will they throw me in jail or something?” she asked.
“I can’t discuss that with you,” the woman said in her flat voice.
Sunny sat back and looked out the window. The monotony of the drive and the hum of the car were soothing. Soon, she dozed off.
“Get out.”
Sunny slowly opened her eyes. They were parked outside of the Obi Library. There must have been a way in wider than a tree bridge.
“Someone will meet you inside.” The moment Sunny got out, the woman drove off, leaving her alone in Leopard Knocks for the first time. There were people going in and out of the library, on the street. She saw a group of kids about her age walking toward Taiwo’s hut. They saw her and waved. She waved back. Then she turned to the library. A cobblestone trail led through the wildly growing grass to the main entrance. As with almost every Leopard building, there was no door, only a silky lavender cloth. She pushed it aside and stepped in.
Books and papers were stacked and piled in corners, set in bookcases as high as the ceiling, scattered on and around clusters of chairs. It was all very untidy and disorganized, and the air had a stale paper odor. People read, talked, wrote, and even performed acts of juju. A man standing in a corner with a book in his hand shouted something and threw some powder up in the air. Poof! A burst of brown moths. He coughed and cursed and threw the book on the floor.
An old woman sat beside a bookcase, surrounded by children. She snapped her fingers and all the children floated inches from the ground. They giggled, trying to make themselves go higher by pumping their legs.
In the center of the large busy room was a round table with a silver sign hovering in midair above it. In large black letters, the sign read WETIN?, which meant “What is it?” in Pidgin English. A youngish man with Yoruba tribal markings on his cheeks sat behind the desk.
“Hello,” she said, nervously. “I’m-”
“Sunny Nwazue,” he said. “Breaker of rule number fortyeight. Such a primary rule.” He called behind her. “Samya.”
“Eh?” came a voice from behind a bookcase. A woman with long braids, red plastic glasses, and reddish brown skin peeked around it.
“Sunny’s here,” he said. “Take her up.”
Samya looked Sunny over and then said, “Come. This way.”
They took the staircase beside the Wetin desk. The second floor was larger, with more bookcases and stacks of paper. The people here were older. Sunny wanted to slap herself. Her first look at the Obi Library University was basically as a criminal.
A haunted moaning came from somewhere on the other side of the floor. Thankfully, they went up another flight of stairs. The third floor had more books and classrooms, too, but she was too nervous to really pay attention. “Please. What is going to happen to me?”