by Kwame Mbalia
“Just a few kids,” one of the women muttered. “Maybe we should let them go.”
A couple of the others nodded, pulling back their makeshift weapons and letting the tension drain from their postures. That made me feel a little bit better, and I took one step forward.
“Hi,” I said. “We’re here to see—”
“WHO’S INTERRUPTING MY PARTY?” a ground-shaking voice bellowed into the night. To my surprise, the group of adults seemed to hesitate, looking at one another to see who would move first. Then a second shout rang out. “BRING THEM INSIDE SO I CAN USE THEIR BONES FOR CUP HOLDERS!”
That seemed to settle it. I watched in confusion as the men and women seemed to shrink into themselves. They looked old enough to hang out with my father and mother and do whatever grown-ups do for fun. (Harmonica practice? Macaroni portraits? Who knew?) Rough hands gripped my arms and marched me inside. A sign stretched across the lintel, reading HAPPY BIRTHDAY, BIG BIG! in bold letters. It took a few seconds for my eyes to adjust to the bright lights inside, but when they did, I gasped.
We stood in a large hall that resembled my school cafeteria back in Chicago. But instead of the walls being covered in murals of the school mascot doing backflips, an odd array of items hung on display. A giant shield. An old banjo. Three sets of throwing knives that still looked sharp. An entire row of book covers. I mean, the place was really strange, you get me?
A group of people and one large boar (yes, I said a boar, as in a wild pig with tusks) were milling about on an elevated stage on the right side of the room holding musical instruments of all sorts. (Yes, even the boar, I’m not making this up.) More instruments stood next to them.
No.
Wait.
Floated next to them.
“Sweet peaches,” I mumbled.
A dance floor occupied the middle of the room, and the walls were lined with tables and chairs. Partygoers sat around, or stood on the dance floor, or leaned against the walls. Men, women, children, and animals—I even saw a pair of giant oxen sitting near the back, wearing weird oversize sunglasses like they were trying to stay incognito. A nervous tension filled the space as everyone stared at us, and I gulped.
The crowd on the dance floor shifted, and from behind it stepped the widest man I’d ever seen. Not tall, just wide. His shoulders seemed to stretch from one side of the room to the other, and his legs could’ve been two barrels stuffed into a pair of pants. John Henry was the largest man I’d met to date, but whereas he was tall, this dude looked like two linebackers side by side in a trench coat.
He was also super ashy, like his skin had never seen a bottle of lotion, a jar of cocoa butter, or even a dab of old bacon grease.
He wore rough gray trousers, no shoes or socks (toes looking like ten dirty marshmallows), and a white T-shirt soaked with sweat. A curious garment hung around his neck—it looked like a black silk scarf at first, but when the man walked forward to stand in front of me, it seemed to shimmer and appeared milk-chocolate brown. And it fluttered. There was no breeze inside as far as I could tell, and my captors had shut the door on the way in. I tried to get a closer look at it with Nyame’s adinkra, but a strong hand gripped me.
“So what do we have here?” The man’s hand encircled my injured wrist easily, preventing me from touching the sky god’s charm and causing me to wince. He lifted my arm to examine my bracelet. “Well?” he asked one of my captors.
“Found them in a heap by the door, Big Big,” a woman said. She sounded apologetic, and she looked at us sadly. “Like they’d been tossed from the sky.”
The man—Big Big—continued to stare at the adinkra charms. Then he considered me thoughtfully. “Anybody else with them? Any adults?”
“Well, we didn’t really check, but—”
“Then go check! There may be more of these freeloaders outside.” Big Big spat on the floor in disgust and then, keeping an eye on my face, yanked the bracelet off my wrist before I knew what was happening.
“Hey, that’s mine!”
“Hmm, that’s not the way I see it,” Big Big said with a conniving grin. He gestured to the walls with a sweep of his hand. “In case you couldn’t tell, I’m a collector. Antiques. One-of-a kind items. Trinkets.” He held up the bracelet and his grin widened as my eyes followed it. Then he motioned to Ayanna, who reluctantly handed over her staff. Junior clutched his satchel of stones like it was the most valuable thing on earth, but after Big Big scowled and formed a massive fist, the boy handed over the bag.
“But most importantly,” Big Big continued, “I collect secrets. Rumors. Shifts in the tide of Alke’s whims. So when a little birdie tells me there’s a kid running around with the powers of the gods, maybe I listen. Maybe I figure, if I can get my hands on those powers, interested parties might pay me a fortune.”
I struggled, but the man’s hand was still tightly clamped around my wrist.
“COOKIE!” he shouted. “Where is that—? COOKIE! Where are you?”
There was movement in the crowd, and then a person draped from head to toe in a hooded cloak appeared next to us. Whoever it was, they were slightly smaller than me, and I briefly got a glimpse of red-rimmed eyes, though whether that was from crying or that was their natural color, I couldn’t tell.
“About time,” Big Big said in annoyance. He shoved me toward the newcomer, and for a brief instant I thought about fighting back. I could have unleashed a combination that would’ve made Granddad proud.
A soft touch on my shoulder stopped me. It was the cloaked person. They gave me the tiniest of head shakes. Not now, it seemed to mean.
“Cookie, take these kids and lock ’em in the back. Then get one of your pots going—I’m starving again. And not that same rice dish you always make. Give me something different.”
The hooded figure shifted. “The rice dish is all we have, since you won’t allow the farmers to farm.”
Big Big reddened, gripping the scarf-like garment around his neck in frustration. “None of that sass, now, Cookie. Or do I need to…?”
The cloaked figure seemed to deflate. “No. I’ll…see what I can do.”
“Better.”
I watched this exchange, baffled, and then checked the crowd. Everyone seemed nervous and on edge. Big Big realized this and waved his hands. “All right, enough! Get some music going. It’s my birthday! And I just got the best present of all.” He held up my bracelet—my bracelet—and laughed. I followed him with my eyes as he turned and headed back through the crowd to a table at the front edge of the dance floor. Burning rage collected in my stomach, bubbled, then spread through my limbs until it felt like my entire body would explode if I didn’t get that bracelet back.
The band started up again (that boar could play a mean saxophone), including the instruments floating in midair. Two drumsticks—with no one holding them—began to tap out a snazzy rhythm, and people started shuffling on the dance floor under Big Big’s watchful eye. Something weird was going on here, but I couldn’t see it while my adinkra bracelet was in that giant bully’s hands.
Someone tugged me gently. It was the cloaked person. With a slim gloved hand, they pulled me forward, and Ayanna and Junior followed as we skirted the edge of the crowd and headed toward a dark storage room in the back. People and animals alike stepped aside for us, inclining their heads as we walked by. I didn’t get it.
“Quickly,” the person called Cookie said in a low murmur. It sounded like a woman’s voice. “I’ll explain it all later.” She led us into the storage room and closed the door. I stood still, unable to see a thing in the dark. Something scraped on the floor. A spark winked not too far away, and then another, and then a torch was lit. The flickering orange glow cast dancing shadows across Cookie’s hooded cloak as she came closer. Beneath the hood, deep in the shadows, her red-rimmed eyes stared out at me.
“I need your help,” Cookie said. “In exchange, I’ll help you get the adinkras back.”
Ayanna narrowed her eyes. “You know w
hat they are?”
“I do. And yes, I will also get back your staff and your father’s stones.” This last bit she directed at Junior.
His father’s stones?
But before I could puzzle that out, the cloaked person continued. “I know what you are, Tristan, and that you can help me. Please. We don’t have much time. Big Big sent off a message. Any moment now the Shamble Man might show up through that door, and then we’re all in trouble.”
The Shamble Man! I hesitated, but I didn’t see how I had a choice. There was no telling where Gum Baby had gone. Maybe she went to get help. More likely, she was lost. No, this looked like the only chance we had to escape the Shamble Man’s clutches. I needed to approach him on my terms, not his.
“Fine,” I said. “What do you want from us?”
I heard a deep inhale, and in a shaky voice, Cookie spoke.
“I want you to help me steal back my skin.”
ONE TIME WHEN I WAS LITTLE, WHILE DAD WAS OFF TRAINING with Granddad, Nana came up to our apartment in Chicago to help Mom and give her a little break. (Side note: Did you know adults take naps? I didn’t at the time. And they do it willingly! Mind-blowing. Anyway…) I woke up screaming one night, terrified that something was coming to get me. Maybe through the window, maybe from under the bed…Wherever it was from, it wanted to take me away. Nana burst into my room to find me shivering in my blankets.
“A witch is gonna get me,” I said, scanning every corner.
She calmed me down, then brought me to the kitchen to help her clean up from dinner. While I dried dishes, Nana started telling one of her stories. It was more a history lesson than a folktale. You know Nana, though. Every story she told felt like an award-winning production.
“Have I ever told you about the island folk?” she asked, handing me a plate. We were standing in front of the sink, she in her stocking feet and me barefoot on a step stool.
I shook my head solemnly.
“’Bout time you learned. Shame you don’t get this in your school, but that’s neither here nor there. I’m called to teach, and you about to learn. Dry this pot, baby.” She cleared her throat, thought for a few seconds, then began.
“The island folk have different names, depending on who you ask. Gullah, Geechee. No matter what you use, do it with respect. But they keep their own business. Rituals, language…they passed them down and kept their traditions local. Same thing with their stories. Well, one story I’ve heard told is about what they call boo hags. Creatures that slip their skin off at night. They creep into your home while you’re asleep, sit on your chest, and suck the air from your lungs. You wake up tired and drained, as if sleeping had been a struggle. By then the boo hag is long gone, back in her lair, reunited with her skin. According to those stories, one way to defeat a boo hag is to take her skin before she can retrieve it—then you hold power over her. Some people went to conjure women—root witches—to get wards to keep boo hags away.”
I’d stared at her in horror. “Witches? Aren’t they evil?”
She didn’t answer me right away. Finally she sighed and gave me a half smile.
“Yes and no, baby. Yes and no. See, there’s some powerful folk out there. Powerful folk, with magic straight out of legend. And, just like everybody, you got your good ones and your bad ones. The thing is, some people don’t like when others have power. Even if it’s being used for good, they don’t care. They’ve got to control it, to own it, and if they can’t own it, they want to destroy it. They might call you a boo hag even if you’re only helping people as a conjure witch. Especially when those people are writing the stories about you. At the end of the day, the only thing you can control is how the power you got is used.”
Nana had paused while washing a pan and stared at me with a serious expression. “So, that nightmare you had? That creature coming for you ain’t got no power over you. You got the power. Let ’em know you got a conjure witch looking out for you. I know a couple, matter fact.”
“But how will I know if a witch is good or evil?”
She resumed her scrubbing. “You just gonna have to decide who to believe—the witch, or the one writing the witch’s story.”
Now I was facing a boo hag in person. I stared at Cookie in disbelief, positive I’d heard her wrong. “You want me to do what now?”
“You’re her!” Ayanna said. “You’re Lady Night.”
The cloaked head rose defiantly, even though I couldn’t see what was underneath. “I am. And I’m the rightful owner of this juke joint. I want you to help me steal my skin back from that giant lumbering oaf out there. Before he took over, this was a place of refuge. Of shelter. Somewhere the tired and weary and downtrodden could come and relax safely, in the company of others like them.”
“Juke joint…” Junior said thoughtfully. “My father used to say they were oases for our people.”
Lady Night cocked her head, like she wanted to ask a question. From beneath her hood, her glowing eyes stared at Junior, then she nodded as if realizing something. “Indeed. Well, in exchange for your aid, I will help you get your items of power back. The bracelet, the staff…and those peculiar stones.”
I opened my mouth, then closed it. She knew something about Junior, and again, that niggling feeling that I was missing something tickled my mind. But I didn’t have time to think about that. This was the wildest bargain I’d ever heard of. What were you supposed to say to a deal like that? Okay, I’ll get you some skin. Like I was running to the corner store for a bag of Doritos. Skin wasn’t supposed to be misplaced like keys. But then again, the fact that she’d lost it gave me an advantage….
“As it turns out, I need your help, too,” I said.
“With the bracelet? Yes, I—”
“No. I mean, yes, with that, but also with something else. I broke it by accident when I came here, and without it I won’t be able to find my grandmother. Chest—uh, a friend told me you can fix magical items. Like, even badly damaged things. Can you?” I hated how desperate I sounded, but…well, I was desperate. Slowly I pulled out the SBP from my shorts pocket. It took every ounce of effort I could spare to part with it, but I didn’t have a choice. I needed it fixed, and fast.
Lady Night took it from me and studied it. “Is this what I think it is?”
I nodded.
“Did you put it in rice?”
I bit my lip and tried not to scream. She noticed, and her shoulders shook. It took me a second to realize she was laughing.
“Easy, Anansesem,” she said. “I’ll tell you what. I will fix your phone for you—”
I started to grin.
“—after you get my skin back.”
The grin froze on my face. She shrugged. “If you don’t, I can’t help you. Literally. Without my skin I’m powerless. It’s why that giant thief out there keeps it on his person at all times. When I get it back I’m gonna make him sorry he ever set foot in my joint.”
I closed my eyes, took a deep breath, and tried to think of a plan. Something that would trick Big Big into taking off Lady Night’s skin for a fraction of a second. From the way he clutched it, and the way everyone in the place jumped to do what he said, he didn’t seem like someone who would listen to reason. We would have to be clever. This wasn’t the time for wild heroics and fisticuffs. We needed to—
WHAM!
A thundering crash shook the walls, and my head jerked up in surprise. The sound had come from the main room. Had Big Big tripped and fallen or something? Lady Night and I glanced at each other when a loud, squeaky, familiar voice cut through the chaos.
“HEY, BUG BUG! GUM BABY’S FISTS GOT SOME QUESTIONS YOUR FACE NEEDS TO ANSWER!”
“Oh no,” I whispered, my hands covering my face.
Lady Night slipped past me and opened the door a crack. “What is it? Who’s that? Do you know them? It sounds like your reinforcements have arrived.”
“No,” Junior answered for me, trying to see through the opening. “She’s just loud.”
&nb
sp; We all peeked out. And…look, everybody has that one person in their life who gets labeled “extra.” You know what I mean. They’re extra loud, extra energetic, and their whole personality revolves around doing everything just a bit too much. That was Gum Baby.
“Oh no,” Ayanna said. “I just cleaned it.”
Lady Night’s eyes—the only part of her that was visible—were wide in astonishment.
Junior was actually laughing. At a time like this!
And me? I just sighed.
Gum Baby, the tiny terror, had rammed through the juke joint’s entrance while riding Ayanna’s raft and was zipping around the room like she was surfing in a whirlpool. A scrap of dirty white cloth was tied around the lower half of her face so all we could see were her eyes and her angry eyebrows. She was pointing at Big Big as she circled the room. Band members, floating instruments, and people in the audience dove to the floor as she dipped toward them. The boar let out a cry of surprise and flung himself flat to avoid getting clipped by the raft.
“Enough!” shouted Big Big. He slammed a hand on his table and stood up, the chair shooting backward. He shoved the furniture out of his way and stomped to the middle of the dance floor, one hand clutching Lady Night’s skin. He’d taken it from around his neck and tied it around his fist, the way Granddad would wrap my knuckles before boxing practice. “Who do you think you are, interrupting my party? Do you know who I am? I’ve picked crumbs out of my teeth bigger than you!”
“Sounds like you need to brush better!” Gum Baby called down. Her arm moved in a blur and a small sap ball bounced off of Big Big’s head. “Does poor little Bug Bug need help flossing, too?”
