“Well, I’m Sunny, but my . . .”

“Yes or no?” the girl asked, holding up a pen.

“Y-yes.”

“Come this way, then.”

Sunny looked back at Orlu, who hadn’t gotten up. “Come on,” she whispered. “I’m not going by myself.”

He got up and the little girl didn’t stop him from following. She showed them down a narrow hallway with ocean-blue walls, and Sunny felt her eyes begin to water. She brought out the handkerchief in her pocket just in time to catch her sneeze.

“Sorry,” the little girl said. “There’s Catch ’Em in the walls. Eze Bola has had a few problems with imposters. People who are allergic always get sneezy here.”

She wanted to ask the girl what constituted an “imposter” because maybe she was one now, but instead she asked, “What does Catch ’Em do to imposters?” She blew her nose.

The little girl giggled mischievously. “You don’t want to know.”

The girl led them to a large room with graceful high ceilings, white walls, wooden floors, and nothing in it but five white wooden chairs. They were arranged in a circle with blue cushions on the backs and seats. Bola Yusuf sat in one of the chairs, one leg crossed over the other.

Upon seeing her, Orlu stopped.

The little girl professionally grasped her clipboard. “Come on,” she said, walking in. She motioned toward the chairs. “Have a seat, please.”

Sunny followed her halfway across the room and then turned back to Orlu. “Come on,” she whispered.

Orlu shook his head. He looked scared, sweat beading on his forehead.

Sunny bit her lip and frowned. “Geez, how old are you?! They’re only boobs!”

It seemed to take all his effort to put one foot in front of the next. When he reached Sunny, she grabbed his hand and dragged him with her to Bola.

Bola was a thin middle-aged woman with long brown braids, three dark lines engraved on each cheek, and a large white oval painted across her forehead. She sat calmly in her chair wearing nothing but a flowing white skirt that reached her ankles. Her long skinny breasts did indeed hang well below her waist, touching her lap. She wore several blue and white bead necklaces that rested on her chest.

“You all look like students, and students can be stupid,” she said in a hard voice. “So no photographs while you are in my compound. The last time someone did this, they angered Mami Wata and died in an accident upon leaving.”

“We . . . we’re students, but we’re not here to study you,” Sunny said.

“Good. Temitope, leave us now.”

“Yes, ma,” the little girl said, then she walked out.

“What is wrong with you?” Bola suddenly asked Orlu. He was sitting stiff as a piece of wood and looking at anything but Bola. “Haven’t you ever seen a woman’s breasts before? Weren’t you ever a baby?” She lifted and swung them from side to side. Orlu looked as if he was going to pass out, and Bola laughed a loud raucous laugh. Before Sunny could control herself, she burst out laughing, too. She clapped her hands over her mouth and looked apologetically at Orlu. Then another giggle wracked her body, and her eyes began to water from the strain of holding it in.