by Rena Barron
It wasn’t like I hadn’t heard my neighbor LJ complain about it all the time. Anime-loving, master gamer, LJ. He was tall, Black, and what Mama called stocky. Never been in trouble a day in his life, according to her. People would switch sidewalks to avoid him. If they were walking a dog, they’d make sure to put it between them and him. Mama said that a lot of people judged others based on stereotypes portrayed in the media. Think of it this way, she’d said. If you always see rabbits on TV eating carrots, then you’ll think that all rabbits eat is carrots. Imagine when the stereotype is more harmful and the damage it could do.
“You should know by now, Maya, that things aren’t always what they appear,” Papa said, distracting my thoughts. “It takes great effort to bend space in two exact points to reach the desired destination. It took me a millennium to learn how to do it without causing an undesirable outcome.” Papa frowned as he squeezed his staff. He had a pained look in his eyes like he was thinking about the past. “We can’t afford to make mistakes . . . not like the one I made with the darkbringers. Not a day goes by that I don’t regret it.”
I couldn’t imagine what it would mean for me to make a mistake that big. For now, I wasn’t messing around with bending space.
“Why didn’t you take us straight home?” I said, quirking an eyebrow.
“Earlier, you asked if something was wrong with me,” Papa said. He leaned his weight on his staff as we walked down the sidewalk toward the corner store. “I told you before no more secrets between us, so I thought we should make a quick stop. We still have a little time before school starts.” Papa let out a frustrated breath. “Truth is, baby girl, I don’t know what’s wrong with me, but Eshu might. He’s got a unique ability to suss out ailments.”
Eshu, the orisha of balance, sat on a red plastic crate in front of the corner store, playing his harmonica. He blew out a down-on-your-luck tune. You know the kind. A song that made you want to turn out your pockets to show the bully demanding your lunch money how broke you were.
The orisha tapped his foot along with the beat, and I couldn’t see his harmonica lost in his brushy white beard. When Papa and I reached him, Eshu or I should say Ernest, which was his human disguise, stopped playing. His dark eyes glistened with flames that I was pretty sure no one else around saw.
Eshu frowned at Papa. “You don’t look well, Eddy.”
“I don’t feel myself,” Papa said, wiping sweat from his forehead.
“Your equilibrium is off.” Eshu squinted at him. “That much I can see.”
“What does that mean?” I asked, speaking out of turn.
“Hello to you too, young guardian,” Eshu said like he was just noticing me standing there. He flashed a smile, and his eyes were smothered embers in pits of ashes. “Everything in the universe has equilibrium. Light and dark, matter and antimatter. Every creation, whether mortal or immortal.”
Eshu had been the one to balance the veil so both the Dark and the human world could thrive. “Can’t you fix Papa?”
“Maya,” Papa warned, and I ducked my head.
“No, she’s right, Eddy,” Eshu said, rubbing his chin. “I should be able to sense why your equilibrium is off, but I can’t. That has never happened before.”
“The Lord of Shadows drained some of my powers, old friend,” Papa said, brushing off Eshu’s concern. “It’s just taking longer for me to heal.”
I thought about how the Lord of Shadows’ writhing ribbons had hung Papa upside down in the Dark. His skin had turned gray, and then the Lord of Shadows tossed Papa aside like he was a broken toy. I swallowed hard and clenched my teeth. Next time I faced him, I’d be ready.
“Have you considered going to see Obatala in Azur?” Eshu asked. “He is the oldest among us and the wisest. He will be able to see what’s wrong with you.”
I had thought the mythical city in the clouds wasn’t real. Papa used to tell me that people in Azur ate ice cream for breakfast and commuted to work on dragons. That Obatala, the orisha who helped create the darkbringers, lived there was a shock too. How could he be up there while the veil was failing here?
“I have . . .” Papa mumbled.
“And there’s still the matter of the veil,” Eshu said, almost apologetically.
I bit my tongue. If I were better at closing the tears on my own, Papa wouldn’t have to work so hard. He could rest and get his full strength back.
“I can’t figure out how the Lord of Shadows is causing the tears,” Papa said. “For now, we’re lucky he still can’t cross into the human world, but the veil won’t last much longer if he keeps damaging it.” Papa pitched his voice low and grumbled under his breath. “If only I could create a new one, then we wouldn’t be in this mess.”
I glanced down at my sneakers, feeling sorry for Papa. He’d given up a part of himself to create the veil and a parallel world on earth. It wasn’t something you could do every day, or even twice in an endless lifetime.
“Don’t be so hard on yourself,” Eshu said. “You’ve done everything that you could to protect this world. It was inevitable that the Lord of Shadows would find a way to start another war. What I don’t understand is why he hasn’t sent more darkbringers who can cross into our world. What’s he waiting for?”
“He’s got something bigger up his sleeve,” Papa answered with no doubt in his voice. “He’s lost against us twice and doesn’t intend to lose again.”
“The more reason for you to get healthy, brother,” Eshu said. “We need you if things get worse. Go see Obatala.”
When we left Eshu, I worked up my nerves to ask, “Can I come to Azur with you?”
“Yes.” Papa nodded. “It’s important as the guardian in training . . .” He paused, nudging my chin. “It’s important as my daughter and the guardian in training that you know what’s going on in case . . .” His voice cracked and trailed off.
“In case what?” I asked, a chill running down my back.
“Never mind that right now,” Papa said. “Let’s see what Sky Father says before we start speculating what might happen.”
“When do we leave?” I asked excitedly.
“Tomorrow morning bright and early,” Papa answered, still leaning on his staff.
I wasn’t sure if that meant I’d have to miss school, but I decided not to ask in case he changed his mind. Papa getting better was way more important than the second day of school anyway.
“I need to rest and talk to Mama first,” Papa said. “I’ll ask Nana if Eli can go, and talk to Pam and Dee about Frankie coming, too. Best if you three stick together.”
When we walked into the house, Mama was stirring in the kitchen, and the smell of bacon and eggs filled the air. She’d been asleep when Papa and I left to fix the veil. If it weren’t the first day of school, she’d have been in bed until noon. Mama was still on the night shift at Stroger Hospital.
“Morning, Mama,” I said as she walked into the living room with an apron over her red-and-white polka-dot pajamas. “You’re up early.”
“I could say the same for you.” Mama gave Papa the Look (trademark)—the one that said they would have something to talk about later. “Now that school’s started again, it’s back to your regular schedule, okay? No more chasing tears at all hours of the night. You can help your father after school once your math tutoring and homework’s done.”
“But I’m never done with homework until dinnertime,” I said, annoyed. “I won’t have time to help Papa.”
“I’m sure you two will find a way to make it work,” Mama said. “Now, hurry up before you’re late for school.”
If we didn’t keep patching up the veil, there wouldn’t be any school. The darkbringers would destroy it along with everyone else. It wasn’t like Mama didn’t know that, but she liked to remind me that being a godling didn’t exempt me from the rules.
“Maya, honey,” Mama called after me as I ran upstairs to get ready. “Ms. Vanderbilt sent me an email this morning to remind you not to forget to turn in yo
ur math workbook today.”
I froze at the top of the stairs. The same workbook that I hadn’t finished yet. The one that had a dozen sketches of the warrior goddess Oya in the margins. It was only the first day of school, and my math teacher was already on my case. Typical.
THREE
I go toe-to-toe with a bully
I stuffed my half-finished math workbook in my new backpack. Well, it wasn’t new new. Mama got it used on eBay, but it was a limited-edition Oya backpack that came out a year ago. My school uniform, a white shirt and blue pants, clashed with the bag. It had nine strips of different colors across the front. Nine was Oya’s favorite number. My favorite number was four, a number you could count on one hand and still have a finger left to spare.
I jetted downstairs, inhaled breakfast, and headed to Eli’s house. The cranky Johnston twins, who lived next door, were out and prowling the sidewalk already.
“Try to behave yourself, Maya,” Miss Ida said, leaning on her cane. She didn’t need it. It was a cover to make people think she and her sister were two innocent old ladies. They were old, way over the two-thousand-year mark, but they were also godlings like me. Miss Ida had saved me from writhing shadows one night. Miss Lucille had rescued Frankie, Eli, and me from a group of darkbringers in the park. Both had kicked darkbringer butt when the Lord of Shadows sent his cronies to rough up our neighborhood.
“Yes, ma’am,” I replied, giving her a winning smile. “You too.”
Miss Ida shook her head as if I was a lost cause, but Miss Lucille only huffed out a little laugh. She bent over their flower bed and pulled up weeds. I passed kids from Jackson Middle, messing around on their way to school. Priyanka was climbing into the back of her parents’ SUV. Mr. Patel always dropped her off at school on his way to work.
I rang the bell at Eli’s house, and the door creaked open. There was no one on the other side. “Um, hello?” I said to the empty hallway. Eli had discovered his godling power to turn invisible, which was golden for a kid who loved ghosts. He said that our neighborhood was haunted, but I had my doubts. The evidence was inconclusive. “Eli, stop messing around.”
I jumped when I saw vines crawling across the floor, retreating away from me. I had no problem with moving vines, but in the half-light of the hallway, they looked like writhing shadows. I had a big problem with shadows, on account of them trying to kill me more than once.
“Come on in, Maya,” Nana hollered from somewhere in the back of the house, then she raised her voice. “Eli should be ready!”
I kicked off my sneakers and walked into the living room. Nana had decorated it in brown, green, and orange for the fall. Vines inched along the walls like holiday lights.
“Maya, Maya, pants on fire!” Jayla, Eli’s little sister, sang at the top of her lungs from upstairs.
“Stop jumping on my bed!” Eli groaned at her. “Go jump on yours.”
“Jayla, get down here,” Nana said, materializing in the living room.
I tried not to flinch a second time and failed. Nana Buruku, aka Nana, Mother Earth, stood in front of me in a white T-shirt and purple tights. She had a comb, a jar of hair butter, and a tub of barrettes in her arms. Eli’s grandmother was the head of our local orisha council.
“How’s training going, Maya?” she asked me as if she hadn’t appeared out of thin air.
“It’s going good,” I said, not wanting to get into how Papa had to help me fix the tear this morning.
“I’m sure Elegguá could use the help,” she said. “He’s done it by himself for a long time.”
Nana was right. Papa had been keeping the veil from failing forever, and I needed to be better with helping him. It was too much work for one person with so many tears cropping up.
Jayla ran down the stairs giggling. She clutched something black in her hands and slipped behind Nana.
“Give me back my wave cap!” Eli said, hot on her trail.
A wave cap was a glorified headscarf for sleeping, so your hair looked good when you woke up. A lot of the boys at Jackson Middle wore them outside of school. By the time Jayla leaped from behind Nana, she’d crammed the cap on her head. It half covered her eyes, and she peeped from underneath it, smiling. “I’m like you now, Eli,” she said, excited, puffs of her hair sticking from underneath the cap. She stroked her chin and tilted her head to the side, giving her best Eli impression.
Eli had looked annoyed when he first came down the stairs, but he grudgingly broke into a grin. “Since you’re so inclined to mimic my handsome face, I guess you can keep it until I get back from school.”
“I’m going to school, too,” Jayla said, proudly. “Kindergarten.”
“Not if you don’t sit down and let me finish doing your hair,” Nana said.
“I talked to Mom this morning,” Eli said to his grandmother. “She said to tell you hi.”
“How’s she doing?” Nana asked, her voice softer than usual.
Eli exhaled a deep sigh. His parents had divorced after Jayla was born. His mother moved away, and his father, Nana’s son, had decided he needed some space. “Good, I guess.”
I didn’t remember much about their parents, but Eli and Jayla had light skin and light eyes from their mom. Even when their parents had been around, they’d spent almost all of their time with Nana.
“Does your mom know about your powers?” I asked as we headed out the door on the way to meet Frankie.
“Nope, and neither does my dad.” Eli tried to play it off like he didn’t care, but he kept adjusting the straps on his backpack and glancing at his shoes. “I don’t think my mom could handle it—she’s got a lot going on. My dad will just say I’m making it up for attention.”
Most godlings didn’t show any powers, so they had no clue about their celestial family members. The orishas had kept their existence a secret, so I wasn’t surprised that his father didn’t know either.
Eli looked like he’d rather be talking about something else, so I blurted out, “Ugh, I’m not ready to go back to school. I didn’t finish my homework from Ms. Vanderbilt.”
“A crying shame, I tell you,” Eli said, waving his arms around. “You should get a break for saving the world this summer with a lot of help from Frankie and yours truly.” He flashed me a big smile as he pointed at himself.
“Couldn’t have done it without you,” I said, bumping my fist to his.
“Hey, don’t forget that we have the kickball final after school,” Eli said, changing the subject. “Don’t be late again.”
Ugh, I already had forgotten about it. I was definitely going to be late if I couldn’t convince Ms. Vanderbilt to let me out of math tutoring.
When we arrived at Frankie’s, her moms were debating whether life existed on other planets. Dee and Pam wore glasses almost identical to Frankie’s yellow frames. The three of them had upgraded their glasses after Frankie got hers scratched up in the Dark. Dee was short and round, and Pam was tall and always wore big hoop earrings. Both of them worked at the University of Chicago. Dee was a scientist studying bacteria, and Pam was a biology professor.
“I’m not convinced that the radio waves CHIME picked up mean anything at all,” Dee was saying as she opened the door. “More than likely, they’re a naturally occurring phenomenon.”
“Babe, you’ve got to be kidding,” Pam said, shaking her head. “There is a clear pattern of intelligence that suggests life.”
“Uh, sorry to interrupt, but is Frankie ready for school?” I asked, looking between the two. Pam was shoving books and a laptop into her leather messenger bag.
“Morning, Maya and Eli,” Dee said, slipping into her white lab coat. “Frankie’s been up for hours—studying the properties of force fields in her room.”
“Electromagnetic fields,” Pam corrected in her teacher’s know-it-all voice. “She thinks that force fields sounds too science fiction.”
“Have you considered that all the science rules go out the window in the face of magic?” Eli asked, butting into t
heir conversation.
Both Dee and Pam cocked their heads at Eli like he was proof that aliens did exist. They might’ve accepted gods and magic, but it didn’t replace science in their eyes.
“Oh, you’ve got jokes early this morning,” Dee said, laughing. “Good one.”
Eli and I climbed up to the second floor to get Frankie. She was bending over a table, scribbling down notes. “Ready to go?” I asked, pausing at her open bedroom door.
“Almost,” Frankie said, not looking up. “Come in.”
Eli pushed into the room first and let out a long whistle. “It’s nerd heaven up in here.”
Entering Frankie’s room was like walking into a laboratory. She had two desks—one with her laptop and one with her latest experiment. A box of beakers and test tubes sat in a corner by the door, near a pile of notepads she used to log her findings. But it wasn’t all science stuff. Posters of her favorite bands were plastered on the walls, and she had a drool-worthy Lego collection.
Frankie stood in front of the desk with five jars of different sizes on it. Three of the jars were empty, but two of them sizzled with what looked like lightning. “I’ve been making electromagnetic fields all weekend. They seem to fluctuate in and out at random intervals before losing stability.”
“You can keep them going without physical contact?” I said, picking up one of the jars. “That’s a new trick.” The lightning bounced off the glass like a Ping-Pong ball, sending a shock wave up my hand. I put the jar down fast, afraid that it might shatter. It was like the magic was desperate to free itself.
“Yes, but it takes a lot of concentration,” Frankie said, biting her lip.
At least she was making progress. I wasn’t any better at closing tears without my staff after weeks of practicing with Papa. I tried hard not to feel a little jealous, but I couldn’t help it.
“I promised Nana that I would not get detention on the first day of school,” Eli said. “We need to go before we’re late.”
“Right,” Frankie said, reaching for her backpack. “I can’t get in trouble again so soon after this summer. My parents only have so much patience.”
