3

IT’S A DATE

Sunny had been looking forward to her date with Orlu for a week. She deserved some fun and she deserved to have it with Orlu. She really, really liked him. She’d never tell, but she kept three photos of him on her phone in a secret album. One she’d taken of him while they were eating lunch at school. Another was a selfie he’d taken of himself and Sasha when they were at Mama Put’s Putting Place. And the third was a photo she’d secretly taken of him grinning at a large frog he’d caught in the rain. That one was her favorite. Orlu was a kind soul who understood so much about her and didn’t judge the things about her he didn’t understand . . . like being doubled.

“Please, please, please,” Sunny had said last week to her frowning parents. They knew about her and Orlu, but that didn’t mean they were open to it. “It’s just dinner. Nowhere else.”

“No,” her father said.

“We’ll discuss it,” her mother said, glancing at her father.

“No,” her father repeated.

They’d then called Orlu’s parents. Orlu’s parents had then warned Orlu. Her parents, mainly her father, had then warned her. And now here Orlu and Sunny were on their way to Mama Put’s Putting Place, ignoring the fact that there were so many restrictions on their “date” that they barely had enough time for the actual dinner. Sunny was wearing her favorite yellow dress and Orlu was wearing jeans that Sunny had never seen before, a green flannel shirt, and white sneakers Sunny was sure he didn’t want to scuff up.

Neither Sunny nor Orlu knew what the street celebration was all about, but neither of them complained. All Sunny knew was that it was the coolest thing she’d ever seen . . . even if she was about to be covered in dust.

“Let’s go to the street party! We can go to Mama Put’s Putting Place next time,” Sunny said.

“Agreed,” Orlu said. “But remember, we have to keep track of time. We mess this up and we’ll never get to go out again . . . without trouble.”

The dust started just after they’d crossed the Leopard Knocks bridge. It billowed at them on a warm breeze as they walked up the path. “Whoa,” Sunny said. Her dress went below her knees so she didn’t have to worry about it flying up, but she did worry about it getting ruined. She tried to fan the dust away, but it only thickened.

“This isn’t normal dust,” Orlu said. “I can breathe it and it’s not making me cough.”

“Listen. You hear it?”

As they both stood there, they looked up the hill toward the Leopard Knocks shops and restaurants. Music was playing, live music. And there were lights shining. However, there was so much dust up ahead that they could only see a dome of hazy, colorful light.

All of Leopard Knocks seemed enveloped in a great cloud of music and breathable dust. They looked at each other, grinned, and ran into it. It smelled of honeysuckle. Dust devils swirled around them, blasting dust into the faces of those who stared too hard, and it did indeed dirty their clothes. Neither Orlu nor Sunny cared anymore. It was just too fun. It was indeed some kind of celebration—of what, Sunny and Orlu didn’t bother asking.

Leopard People of all ages danced, sang, laughed, and ate in the swirls of dust. There was an energetic mosh pit near the band that was playing some sort of Afrobeat, hip-hop, and heavy metal fusion. Sunny jumped in and pushed around it three times.

There was one dark moment, though. The music was thumping and Sunny was reveling with all the other revelers. She had her hands in the air and she was laughing as she bounced in a circle with a group of teens. Then something caught her eye, some trees outside the party space, just beyond the lights and dust. She could see them because she was momentarily on the edge of the crowd. She stopped and moved away from everyone so she could get a better look. The music was thumping, a heartbeat rhythm that amplified the distant dread she felt.

The dust swirled and the music called her back. But . . . something was behind the trees. Something huge, hulking. The dust swirled thicker, hiding it. When it cleared, whatever had been there was gone. Something that big couldn’t have been there at all if it is gone that quickly, she thought. But she knew. The thing had been the size of a small house. And maybe even had breath that smelled like burned houses. However, now it was gone. Sunny raised her hands and got back to dancing. Denial was always easier.

Eventually, Sunny returned to Orlu, who was sitting on a folding chair and eating corn on the cob. “Come and dance!” she said, grinning.

“No thanks, go ahead,” he said, handing her a napkin to wipe the sweat from her brow.

There was a tent outside the bookstore that served wonderful party food, and Sunny sampled a bit of everything, including akara, roasted corn, puff puff, grasscutter and chicken suya, thirty styles of jollof rice, tainted pepper soup in bowls made of yam, and the sweetest pineapple slices Sunny had ever tasted. Orlu had offered to pay, but Sunny bought him another ear of corn instead. “You can pay next time,” she said, biting into a hot, greasy, delicious puff puff. “Oh man. SO GOOOOOD!”

Orlu took the second of the fried, sweet spheres of dough from Sunny’s napkin. He bit into it, grinned, and nodded. “I approve.” He took the last one in the napkin.

What Sunny still couldn’t process was seeing Sugar Cream dancing with some Igbo women in a circle, getting so low that it looked like she was threshing rice. Sunny had stood to the side with Orlu, grinning so huge that her cheeks ached. “Heeeeey, that’s my mentor,” she shouted, and Sugar Cream looked up at her, smiled, and danced harder.

By the time Sunny and Orlu emerged from the celebration she couldn’t name, three hours later, they had full bellies and full hearts. All the stresses they’d still been trying to process the last two years, even from the last few days, seemed a thousand miles away. They were sweaty and covered in dust, and now that they’d left the festivities, they could see the moon high in the sky lighting the night.

As they walked back down the path, they found themselves alone, the celebration behind them. “Told you it would be worth all that trouble,” Orlu said.

Sunny laughed. “You did, Orlu, you did.”

“You had fun?” He took her hand.

“Yes!” she said.

They stopped walking and turned to each other.

“I still feel like I’m flying,” Sunny whispered.

The breeze blew dust over them. Orlu glanced down at his extremely dusty shoes, and Sunny snickered and shrugged. She leaned forward and Orlu met her halfway. His lips were soft and his mouth was cool and warm. He smelled of dust, cologne. She ran her hand over the back of his neck as he pulled her closer. Were there leaves blowing in the dusty breeze? Was time passing? When the kiss ended, Sunny was sure there were shooting stars in the sky, even if there was too much dust to see them. She could feel them. A large copper chittim fell between them with a thunk. They picked it up and then stood looking at each other. Not for the first time, Sunny wondered where chittim came from and who decided when to drop it.

“You want to keep it?”

He shrugged. “It’s both of ours.”

“I know.” She gave it to him. “Let’s go home.”

Crossing the bridge was effortless. Neither she nor Anyanwu gave the river beast who lived there more than a passing thought.

When she arrived home, she said goodbye to Orlu, something that took ten minutes and left her ears ringing and clothes ruffled. When he was gone, she turned to the front door. “Okay,” she said. She shook herself. It was like waking up from a dream . . . or coming back to Earth from soaring in outer space. Everything settled right back onto her shoulders. She had to hurry up.

“Okay,” she said again, bringing out her juju knife. She did a quick flourish and said, “Dust to dust.” She shook herself and the dust on her dress, skin, and hair fell heavily to the ground. She went inside. Her brother Ugonna was on the family room couch watching TV.

“Sunny, you like to flirt with disaster,” he said, laughing. “Five minutes.”

Sunny rolled her eyes and plopped on the couch beside him. “On time is on time,” she said. “What are you watching?”

“This animated film called The Painting,” he said. “Animation and graphic novels from France are the best.” He had his sketchbook in hand, and his ink-stained fingers also held his favorite pen. Sunny didn’t look at what he was drawing. These days he creeped her out so often with his unconscious images of the Leopard world that it was better not to look.

“The Rabbi’s Cat was really good,” she agreed, sitting back to watch.

“You should probably let Mommy and Daddy know you’re home.”

“As if they didn’t hear the door open and close.”

He shrugged. “True, but it’s all about respect.”

Sunny nodded, getting up. “Fine.”

“Yep.”

She found her parents sitting at the dinner table, both eating bowls of ugba. Despite her full stomach, Sunny’s mouth watered. She loved the spicy dish made from shredded oil beans. It wasn’t easy to make, and her mother rarely did. Of course the day Sunny was out on a date was when her mother chose to do so.

“Hi,” she said. “I’m home.”

Her father looked her over and grunted. “Good.”

“How was it?” her mother asked.

“It was good.”

“Where did he take you?” her father asked.

“This . . . nice place,” she said. “I ate more than I should have . . . but is there any ugba left?”

Her parents both laughed and so did Sunny.

“You snooze, you lose,” her mother said. Her father chuckled some more and Sunny frowned. She turned to leave.

“Stop sulking,” her father said, smiling. “We set a large bowl aside for you. You’re just lucky you came home on time.”

“Thanks, Dad,” she said, grinning.

Once in her room, she flipped on the light. She glanced at Della’s nest on the far side of her room near the ceiling. “Hey, Della,” she said. “I’m home.” She didn’t expect a response. The wasp artist was usually asleep at this time, choosing to do its greatest work just before sunrise. Sunny had been up a few times when Della was in the throes of creating. During these times, Della didn’t even acknowledge her presence.

She sprawled out on her bed and sighed contentedly, staring at the ceiling. “What a night,” she whispered. She laughed to herself. She really, really liked Orlu.

NSIBIDI FOR “GOOD HEART”