FORMATION
A new song boomed from the Walkman at Little Sistah’s waist, and I found myself attacking to the beat. I added unnecessary swivels to the hips and bops of the head. A smile tugged at my lips as I danced through a confetti of blood. I think . . . I was having fun?
“Aye, Big Sis.”
The kusarigama extended toward me, with a talisman affixed to the chain that tripled its length. I caught the chain above the spiked iron weight. All I had to do was glance at Little Sistah to realize what she was about. From the opposite ends, we spun the chain like a jump rope—
Teddy Bear, Teddy Bear, turn around
—and slammed it into two charging bodyguards, tripping them and flipping them onto their feet.
Teddy Bear, Teddy Bear, touch the ground
The makeshift jump rope swiveled down onto their heads, and back up, splattering brain tissue into the air.
Teddy Bear, Teddy Bear, tie your shoe
One of the guards managed to jump the chain and looked up surprised that they had survived. With extra force, the jump rope circled back around faster and harder and broke the guard’s legs.
Teddy Bear, Teddy Bear, fuck you too
The weighted end whipped across helmeted faces as it retracted to its original length, bowling three over with concussions.
Little Sistah and I glanced at each other with twin grins. The remaining guards seemed to know that we were fighting circles around them, and I begrudgingly gave them credit for not turning tail and fleeing for the hills. The few that were left fought more carefully and defensively, but it mattered none as we one-two-stepped around their defenses.
Little Sistah crouched at a beat drop, evading rocks tossed over her head, and twerked through the chorus of the song. The rock thrower tried to attack her in her distraction, but Little Sistah knocked them off balance with a booty-bump and beheaded them in one smooth motion.
“Ayye,” Little Sistah whooped. Then she looked at me with that smirk that knew no limits. I shook my head in turn, but her smile only widened more mischievously in answer. Then she began to sing, “Little Sally Walker walking down the street . . .”
I rolled my eyes, unwilling to entertain her mess. Haven’t we had enough fun? But then again, what was I supposed to do? Dishonor the sacred tradition of the Sally Walker circle? I pulled out that last remaining talisman and applied it to my forearm. Then, I faced the last three bodyguards.
She didn’t know what to do so she stopped in front of me . . .
I transformed. My skin sprouted sleek, dark fur. Claws extended from my nailbeds, and then I prowled forward with the strength and power of a PANTHER.
She said gon’ girl do yo thang, do yo thang, stop.
The bodyguards stumbled back and dropped their katanas. Ah. Now they were fleeing. But I was faster. I charged on all fours, clawing up clumps of ground with the same aggressiveness and force of getting your girls through the club. I pounced on the first bodyguard, rending claws through their chestplate.
Gon’ girl do ya thang—
Then I pounced to the next and ripped their larynx out with my teeth.
Do ya thang—
The third one had gained some distance. I beat the earth beneath my paws as I caught up with ease. I haven’t run this fast and this free in a long time. I landed atop their back and ripped out their bloody spine.
STOP.
I transformed back. Blood decorated my face, clothes, and hair. All the bodyguards were dead, and the field was strewn with corpses. I had almost met my end and the thrill of the reversal surged through me. I’d forgotten how exhilarating, utterly stupid, and how fun living could feel coursing through your veins. With a whoop, I pumped back my arms. Muscle memory automatically took over and I danced the running man in victory.
Little Sistah rolled her eyes and smiled. “Nerd.”
We looked at each other. Frizzy ‘fro and half-tossed braids. Black shades and gold hoops. Ebony skin and amber. Yet soul sistahs all the same. Adrenaline whooped through my ears like a rousing encore. That was the most fun I’ve had in years.
We both burst out laughing, on and on and on and on.