Sunny had to really force herself to move.
“This is-this is the son of a friend of your grandmother’s-my mother.” Her mother’s hands shook as she picked up her cup of tea. She laughed to herself. She sounded on the verge of tears.
“Yes,” Anatov said. He poured a large amount of cream into his tea, stirred it, and took a sip. “I was in town and decided to… drop by.”
Sunny could only nod.
Suddenly, her mother whirled around and faced her. She obviously wanted to say something. Instead she kissed Sunny’s cheek and nearly ran out of the room.
Anatov took a calm sip of tea. Sunny waited. “We’re going to Leopard Knocks,” he said.
“What? But it’s-isn’t that tomorrow?”
“Bring your knife, your powders, and one of your umbrellas.”
“Won’t my mom-”
“She won’t stop you,” he said. “Go fetch your things. There’s little time.”
One of the official Obi Library cars waited outside. Behind the wheel was a short, unsmiling Hausa man. A lit cigarette hung from his lips.
“Put it out, Aradu,” Anatov snapped.
“Sorry, sir,” Aradu said, quickly flicking the cigarette out the window.
Sunny looked back at her mother, who stood like a statue in the front doorway. Sunny waved. Her mother didn’t wave back. She just stood there as they drove away.
Maybe she knew she would never see her daughter again.
The driver maneuvered the car easily, first on the muddy road and then on the slick street. It was an oddly smooth ride. When they accelerated, there was no sound at all. Clearly, like the funky train, the car ran on some kind of juju. Sunny wondered why the Leopard People didn’t share this technology with the rest of the world. It would solve some serious environmental problems.
They passed Orlu and Chichi’s houses. “Aren’t we picking up-”
“They’ll meet us there,” Anatov said. “Your home situation is not so easy, so I had to come get you.”
“What’s happening?” she asked.
“When we get there.” She nodded and looked out the window. “You’ve made good progress, Sunny,” Anatov said.
“Thanks.”
“What I’d like you to think about, though, is who you are. Because within that knowledge is the key to how much you can learn.”
She frowned, thinking about what had just happened with her mother. “Oga,” she whispered, “these days I don’t really think I know who I am.” Anatov was silent. “What do you know of my grandmother? Who was she?”
“Only her oldest daughter, your mother, can tell you that.”
“Why won’t you tell me?” she asked desperately.
“It’s not my place,” Anatov said.
“Was she bad?”
He didn’t respond.
“Why was she Black Hat’s teacher? Of all people?” she asked.
When Anatov remained silent, she pounded her fist against her leg. For a while, the windshield wipers going back and forth were the only sound.
Anatov patted her shoulder. “We have a half-hour drive,” he said. “Take the time to relax while you can.” He leaned forward and tapped the driver on the shoulder. “Put on some Lagbaja.”
Sunny closed her eyes and listened to the afrobeat music.
The car stopping woke her up. They were outside of the Obi Library. Sasha and Orlu were already there. “Wait here,” Anatov said, and went inside.
They were too nervous to talk. Instead, they just stood together, shoulder to shoulder. Five minutes later, Chichi arrived with her mother, walking under a large green umbrella. Even with the umbrella, both of their cheeks were wet. Chichi looked shaken. Her mother sniffled and wiped her eyes. Chichi gave her a tight hug and watched her mother walk down the street toward the Leopard Knocks markets.
Sunny hugged Chichi. Sasha and Chichi exchanged more than hugs. Sunny and Orlu just avoided each other’s eyes. Standing out there in the rain, it was as if they were waiting to be sent into battle, to their deaths.
“Okay,” Sasha said, standing up straighter. “Everyone lighten up. God.”
Orlu sighed. Chichi put her arm around Sasha’s waist and said, “Children are dying and being maimed, right?”
“Right,” Sasha said. “We’re lucky, really. We’re going to have a chance to prove what we’re made of. Some people never get that, man. Not in their whole life. But what’s up with this rain?”
“That’s what bugs me,” Orlu said.
Sunny was about to say something when Sugar Cream came up behind them. She held a white umbrella and wore white pants and a long top with fringe. She smelled like flowers, even in the rain. “They’re ready for you,” she said. “Let’s go.”
The library felt different. People weren’t smiling and no one spoke, even when they reached the university on the second floor. Students walked close with their heads together, whispering. And when they saw the four of them, they stared, some occasionally giving them fake reassuring smiles.
To Sunny’s surprise, there were buckets and towels all over the floors and on the stairs, catching drips. She’d have thought that the library, of all places, would be protected from something as simple as heavy rain. She hoped the books were okay.
They followed Sugar Cream to a large door on the third floor. “Your best behavior,” she sternly told them. “Don’t ask any questions until you are told you may.”
She opened the door. Another indoor jungle. Sunny had to work not to groan. She was reminded of the tent at the Zuma Festival, and that brought back memories of the terrible masquerade.
But this jungle was more controlled-the foliage grew only around the edges of the room. A toucan sat in a tree near a window. The bird looked at them suspiciously. In the center was a large oval table. Around it sat seven people, all of them ancient except for Taiwo, Kehinde, and Anatov. Sugar Cream motioned them to sit in the four empty chairs.
A bent woman with black skin and milky blind eyes laughed loudly and said something Sunny couldn’t understand. The language she spoke was full of click sounds, most likely Xhosa. The man beside her wheezed with laughter, slapping the table with a rough hand. Sugar Cream sat down in a chair beside the blind woman and said something. Sunny only understood the last word: “English.” Two of the scholars on the far side of the table, both women, sucked their teeth loudly.
The blind woman said something else in her click language and the old man beside her added his two cents, pointing accusingly at Sasha. Sugar Cream responded soothingly. The two old women on the other side of the table joined the conversation. One of them switched languages and started speaking something that sounded like French. Kehinde, Taiwo, and Anatov remained silent.
As the heated conversation ensued, the toucan whistled and flew a circle over the table. It landed in an empty seat next to the two women on the end. Sunny gasped as the bird slowly grew into a large-nosed old Middle Eastern- looking man with green eyes. He wore a white turban and a white caftan. He slapped his hands on the table and scowled at Sasha.
Sugar Cream politely said in English, “It must be this way. Sasha’s American. And this one here is American, too, though she’s Igbo also and speaks the language.”
The toucan man scoffed. “They don’t teach them to understand others, they teach them to expect others to understand them,” he said in English. He humphed and said, “Americans.”
“Hey,” Sasha said, growing annoyed. “I’m not deaf! Don’t insult my country.”
“Yes,” the toucan man said. “You are deaf. Dumb and blind, too! Now shut up!”
Sasha jumped up, angry.
“Sasha, sit,” Anatov said firmly.
“Now!” Kehinde said, pointing a long finger.