Chichi handed the comb back to her, and Sunny tucked it into her hair. She slapped hands with Sasha, and Chichi gave her a hug. “Are you all right?” Chichi asked.

“Yeah,” she said. “It didn’t get me; I’m alive.”

“Don’t know why that thing goes after you when it can more easily catch smaller weaker prey,” Chichi said, pinching one of Sunny’s strong arms.

Sunny smiled but looked away from Chichi. Sunny’d always been somewhat tall, but even she had to admit, she’d become quite strong. It was probably all the soccer she was playing with the boys, but there was something more to it, too. She wasn’t bulking up like a body-builder, but there were . . . changes, like being able to squeeze someone’s wrist into terrible pain, being able to kick the soccer ball so hard that it hurt if it hit anyone, and being able to lift things she hadn’t been able to lift last year.

“You want me to work some juju on it to humiliate all of its ancestors and deform every single one of its offspring?” Sasha asked.

Sunny smiled, pausing to consider. “Nah,” she said. “I’ll let karma handle it.”

“Juju works better and faster than karma,” Chichi said.

Sunny walked out and Orlu followed her, gently taking her hand. When Sunny let go of his hand as she stepped onto the empty road, Orlu said, “See you tomorrow.”

Sunny smiled at him, looking into his sweet eyes, and said, “Yeah.”

You’re not yet reading this correctly if this is your first time reading Nsibidi. Keep reading. It will come. But you can hear my voice and that’s the first step. I am with you. I am your guide. Nsibidi is the script of the wilderness. It is not made for the use of humankind. However, just because it is not made for us does not mean we cannot use it. Some of us can. Nsibidi is to “play” and it is to truly see. If you lose this book, it will find you again but not without forcing you to suffer a punishment . . . if you deserve it. Don’t lose this book . . .

—from Nsibidi: The Magical Language of the Spirits

3

HOME

Sunny’s oldest brother, Chukwu, sat in his Jeep in front of the house staring at the screen of his cell phone as he furiously typed a text. Sunny watched him as she quietly crept closer. He was frowning deeply, his nostrils flared. He’d discovered his potential to easily bulk up last year, and his recently swollen biceps and pectorals twitched as he grasped the phone.

“What is wrong with this silly girl?” he muttered as Sunny leaned against the Jeep with her arm on the warm door. She didn’t need to worry about dirt. As always, it was spotless. Sunny suspected he paid some of the younger boys in the neighborhood to wash it often. Chukwu had gotten the Jeep three weeks ago, and he would take it with him to the University of Port Harcourt in five days.