“I’m not sure if I like the idea of being on the road New Year’s Eve,” Orlu said as Chichi talked to her uncle.

“I know,” Sunny said. “But if we keep driving, trust me, we will be robbed . . . or have to fight robbers.”

Chichi was laughing very hard as she cupped the phone to her ear.

“Do you know Chichi’s uncle?” Sunny asked.

“I’ve heard of him but never met him.”

“Good things?” Sunny asked.

“Yeah,” Orlu said, smiling. “He likes flowers.” He lowered his voice so Chukwu wouldn’t hear. “They’re both Leopard People, and her aunt’s a third leveler like Chichi’s mother.”

“Okay, everyone,” Chichi announced, handing Sunny her phone. “They have dinner waiting for us. Let’s go.”

“Which way?” Chukwu asked.

Ten minutes later, they pulled through the gates of a small but beautifully designed compound. The house was painted blue, and the compound was made pretty with tall palm trees and colorful flowers that seemed to glow even in the near darkness. The small parking lot in front of the house was black and smooth, as if it had been freshly tarred.

“Nice,” Sasha said.

“I’m going to warn you all one more time, treat my uncle’s flowers like little human beings,” Chichi said. “And God help you if you step on one.”

“What kind of man loves flowers that much?” Chukwu said with a laugh as he got out of the car. “What is he, some kind of wizard?”

They all froze, avoiding eye contact with one another.

“He’s a botanist; he studied at the University of California in the States,” Chichi said.

“Oh . . . okay,” Chukwu said.

Sunny let out a breath.

A pathway led to the front door and along the sides were all sorts of plants: tiger lilies, sunflowers, a bush with red flowers, and there was even a tall cactus on the right side of the path’s beginning. “Don’t touch any of his flowers,” Chichi stressed again.

“Ah!” Chukwu hissed. “Damn it!” He was ahead of Sunny, and Sunny had seen precisely what happened. The cactus had leaned forward and swiped at his arm with a thorn! Thankfully, Chukwu hadn’t seen it do this. He’d only felt it. “I didn’t touch it,” he said. He looked at his arm with irritation. “It touched me or something. I wasn’t even . . .”

“Who is that?” a deep voice said from inside. The door unlocked and a man peeked out, frowning. He had a smooth, bald head and a handlebar mustache and bushy beard that reminded Sunny of the man on the Internet years ago who was always complaining about the rent being “too damn high.”

“Who is touching my plants?”

“Uncle Uyobong,” Chichi sang. “It’s us!”

He frowned and then his face broke into a smile when he saw Chichi. “Ah-ah! Chichi,” he said, hugging her tightly. A woman with a bushy gray Afro and large gold earrings came to the doorway, and Chichi hugged her tightly, too. “Auntie,” Chichi said.