“What do I do?” she asked, looking at the screen.

“Just touch your finger to his picture,” Sunny said.

“Right on it?”

“Yes.”

Chichi fiddled with it and frowned. “Now there’s a picture of some guy with dada hair kicking a football. What’s Arsenal FC?”

“What’d you do? That’s my background picture,” Sunny said, taking the phone from her. She brought up her brother’s number again. Not only did Chichi not have a cell phone, but she didn’t even know how to use them. Sunny touched Chukwu’s photo in her favorites list and handed it back to Chichi. “Just talk when he . . . Wait, give it to me.”

Chichi gave it back, and Sunny listened to it ring. He picked up on the second ring. “Sunny?”

“Hello? Chukwu, how are you?”

“I’m . . . fine.”

“You’re at your friend’s?”

“Yes. I’m at Ejike’s apartment.”

“Okay . . . um, hang on, Chichi wants to talk to you,” she quickly said.

“What?” he said. “Didn’t I . . .”

She quickly handed the phone to Chichi.

“Chuks,” Chichi said. “How you body dey?”

Sunny got up and started pacing the room, bracing herself to hear Chichi say “Hello? Hello??” repeatedly because her brother had hung up the phone. But instead Chichi started laughing. Then she said, “Relax, sha. She didn’t tell anyone else. But I know everything, yes.” She paused. “About you and your cultist wahala. Look, we want to help you, but we need some information.” She motioned to Sunny to relax as she slowly ambled out of the hut. “Names, descriptions, where they live, stuff like that . . .”

Sunny sat back and sipped her tea. But she couldn’t relax.

When Chichi came back, she was smiling, the phone pressed to her ear. “I don’t have a cell phone, but you can always come to where I live and pick me up. Don’t take me to any restaurant. I like roadside food only.” She listened and then laughed hard. “That works. But give us three days. You will see. Nothing is more powerful than Mami Wata. Okay, o. Here is your sister.” She handed the phone to Sunny. “We’ve got what we need.”

“Hello?” Sunny said.

“What are you two going to do?” he asked.

“I don’t really know yet. But . . . don’t worry.”

“Sunny,” he said. “Can I ask you a question and will you answer it?”

“If I can.” She glanced at Chichi, who was busy scribbling things down in a notebook.

“So you’ve joined Owumiri?”

“Huh?”

“Those Mami Wata women,” he said. “Don’t lie. Chichi told me so. I’ve heard a lot about them, and now I know why you’ve been sneaking around and acting funny.”

Sunny frowned, utterly thrown off. She knew of Owumiri, too. They gathered at the river and the seaside and sang and danced and scared men. “I . . .”

“Look, I get it, Sunny,” he said. “You need protection because . . . of your albino-ness.”