It was a silent ride to my aunt’s house. My mind was working. I thought about all the strange things but didn’t know what to make of it. Uncle Antoine kept telling us Aunt Delphine was crazy. Maybe he’s crazy, too, but doesn’t know it. But what about Angel Not? Maybe they’re all crazy.
Aunt Delphine was waiting at the front door. “Why don’t you boys wash up? But come right down. Dinner’s on the table.”
Everything was the same as we had left it that morning. Wet towels. Toothpaste caps. No housekeeper here. For sure.
We took our places at the table a few minutes later. I looked at the food on the table. Hot and steamy… chili? Who comes to New Orleans to eat chili?
I guess I made a face because Uncle Antoine had something to say. “What’s the problem, Phil? You turning up your nose at your aunt’s cookin’?”
“No. It’s delicious.” I tasted it right away. It actually was pretty good. “I just expected to have New Orleans food, that’s all.”
“We like our chili,” he answered. “It’s your aunt’s specialty dish.”
“Ah spent hours cooking this today. Just for you boys. There you go again. Hurting my feelings.” Aunt Delphine took out a tissue and wiped away fake tears.
Huh? Did she used to be an actress, or something?
“Aunt Delphine, I’m really sorry. I didn’t mean anything by it. It’s really good.
Can I have more, please?”
I looked over at Angel Not. He had a scowl on his face. Big surprise.
“I’d like seconds, too. If you have enough,” Nestor said.
We had a little bit more to eat. No conversation. No nothing.
They didn’t even ask about how we had spent our day. Maybe they didn’t have any questions, but I sure did.
“Aunt Delphine, did you get to talk with my mom?”
“Ah sure did.”
“What did she have to say?”
“Oh, let’s see now. She’s real happy that you’re here. Enjoying yourselves and all. But she wants you to go home early. Tomorrow. She misses you and wants you back home. Sooner rather than later.”
I looked at Nestor. His eyes were on the table.
“That doesn’t make sense. We just got here. My mom knows we have return tickets for Friday.”
“You calling your aunt a liar?” Uncle Antoine was red in the face.
“No, I’m just saying—”
“Well, you’d better stop saying.” Uncle Antoine got up from the table. “This ain’t my first rodeo. You think I don’t know disrespect when I hear it? You boys clean up here. Start making your plans for going home. Soon.”
I looked at Angel Not. He was smiling now.
Uncle Antoine wasn’t finished yet. “I’m calling your mama and telling her she raised a son without manners. And your friend’s just as bad as you.”
“What did I do?” Nestor never expected to be in the line of fire.
It was like a play. Actors playing their parts. Feed them a prompt, and they answer with a memorized line—but from another play, so it didn’t make sense.
The three of them stormed out and went to sit in the living room. Somebody turned the music on real loud. A country-western station.
“What’s going on?” Nestor whispered.
“I don’t know. What I do know is I’m going to get blamed for this whole thing. Some lousy Icebreaker I turned out to be.”
“I’m your witness. This says more about them than about you, believe me.”
“There’s no logic to this.” I opened up the garbage pail to scrape the dinner bowls. I spotted some cans at the bottom, moved onion skins and half-eaten oranges, then pulled one out one of the bright-red cans. Clear as day. White lettering: Wolf Brand Chili.
I motioned to Nestor, whispered, and pointed to the can in my hand. “My aunt didn’t even make the chili we had for dinner.”
“After that whole working-in-the kitchen-all-day speech?”
“Let’s finish up here. We’ll go upstairs and figure this out.”
I wasn’t sure if we should say goodnight to them. I had had enough talking in circles. The decision was taken away from me. Uncle Antoine heard us come out of the kitchen. “You boys think about going home. Phil, I want to hear your plan in the morning.”
“But —”
“No buts. Tomorrow.”
“Can we at least have our phones back?”
“Of course you can. When y’all leave.”
I opened my mouth to complain, but Uncle Antoine read my mind. “When y’all leave.” The conversation was over. He glared at us as we went up to our rooms.
A sickly, metallic odor made my stomach turn as I opened the door to my room. I smelled it before I saw it. I flicked on the light switch. Nestor doubled over with dry heaves. At first, all I saw was the blood. Then I made out the shapes. Headless chickens. Not one. But two. Black and brown feathers covered in blood. One on each pillow.
“What is this?”
“It’s a voodoo warning,” Nestor answered.
“What does it mean?”
“This is bad jus jus. That’s all I know. How did it get here?”
“It’s got to be one of those crazies downstairs. Probably Angel Not.”
“But why?”
“They want us to leave.”
“Couldn’t they wait another day?”
“Something strange is happening here. I’m going to find out what it is.”
“Should we tell them we found the chickens?”
“No. We’ve got to think this through. They probably want us to panic, but we’re not letting that happen. Let’s look in your room.”
It was all clear in there. Nothing was out of place. “Let’s sleep in here tonight. This time, I’ll take the floor. I’m sorry I brought you into this mess.”
“I’m sorry for the chickens. Do you think they were alive when they got killed?”
“Yeah, Nestor. It’s hard to kill something that’s already dead.”
“I mean, when their heads got chopped off.”
“Their necks were probably broken first.”
“Do you think they might do the same to us?”
“Don’t even say that.”
I got some towels from the linen closet and wrapped up the bloody mess. I opened the window at the end of the hallway, and threw the voodoo curse into the night.