“Nnamdi!” she called again. “What are you doing? We’re going to be late.”
“I’ll walk fast,” Nnamdi muttered.
“Let’s start walking then.” She hoisted up her backpack and turned toward the house.
* * *
School was the usual routine and Nnamdi was glad when the day was over. He just wanted to sit, think, and brood. But first he wanted to eat a little something. He was so hungry. During lunch, he’d been so preoccupied with the fact of his father being gone a whole year that he’d stared off into space instead of eating. A whole year. He hadn’t spoken to his father in a whole year. He could say that now.
“You want one?” Chioma asked, offering him a biscuit from the package she’d just opened. “They’re really delicious.”
Nnamdi took one. It was surprisingly buttery and flaky. He smiled. Chioma smiled, too, handing him three more. “That’s better,” she said. “No one wants to look at a long face.”
They walked in silence for a moment and then Nnamdi asked, “You know what today is, right?”
“Yes,” she said quickly. She handed him another biscuit.
He took it. “You’re coming next week?” he asked.
“To Chief’s memorial?” She always called his father “Chief.”
Nnamdi nodded.
“Of course,” she said, shoving a biscuit into her mouth. “Hey, remember that day in Chief’s garden when I caught that huge blue butterfly?” Chioma asked. “He was watering the tomatoes and you were leaning against the fence?”
Nnamdi remembered that day well. It was three years ago. The garden attracted lots of butterflies and Chioma loved them. That late afternoon she’d caught and released a large blue butterfly and the sheer delight on her face as she watched it fly away made his father laugh. Great big belly laughs that soon got Nnamdi laughing, too, and Chioma rolling her eyes.
“Chief looked so tall that day,” she said. “His shadow stretched and stretched like he was a giant. Like he was invincible.” She glanced at Nnamdi and then looked away. “I really miss him.” She handed him another biscuit and he ate it. A year since that terrible day. Almost a year since he’d made a useless, silly promise to himself while watching the Chief of Chiefs parade through his father’s burial like the president of Nigeria.
“Well, how do you feel about . . . it?” she asked.
They were walking past the market. An old brown Toyota drove by, sending up a cloud of red dust that lingered in the hot, humid air. Nnamdi fanned the dust away, frowning. “I . . .”
“Whoo, Nnamdi,” Chioma said, scrunching up her face. “Did you gas?”
Nnamdi hissed, annoyed. “No.” Then he smelled it, too. Like rotten eggs. “Nasty,” he said, flaring his nostrils.
“Phew! What is that?” Chioma asked.
“I don’t know.” But that wasn’t quite true. Could it be? Nnamdi wondered. He frantically looked around for clues. Bad Market was known for causing a bad smell after he’d “collected” from people in the market. It was the cue to check your pockets and realize your valuables were long gone.
“Relax,” Chioma said, eating another biscuit. “When Bad Market strikes, the smell comes fast and is really, really obvious. You won’t just think farts; you’ll think a monster farting in a nest of rotten meat! I have an auntie who was shopping once when he struck. She lost her wallet and wedding ring. And she said she never felt anything! But what she said was worst about it was the stink!”
Nnamdi only grunted. For the last week or so, he’d had a feeling that something bad was happening or had already happened somewhere. Today it was especially strong. Bad smells, faint or strong, always meant trouble. At least that’s what his father used to say.
“Nnamdi,” Chioma said. “You’ve been so quiet, even to me. What’s on your mind, man?”
He paused, frowning. Then he looked at her concerned face, bit his lip, and spoke. “Okay, Chioma, honestly, I’m . . . I’m . . . I don’t know. I just feel . . .” He looked hard at Chioma, wishing she’d just understand.
However, she only looked at him, waiting.
He sighed. “Remember when the Chief of Chiefs came to the burial?”
“Of course,” she said, making a fist. “It was like he was rubbing it in your mother’s face.”
“And mine,” Nnamdi added.
“We should find him and step on him,” she said, dramatically stomping her foot on the ground. She grinned. “He’s half of both our heights. We could take him.”
Nnamdi chuckled sadly. “See, that’s what I vowed to do that day. When he came, he made me so mad. I told myself I’d do something. But it’s almost a year later and . . .” He shook his head. They stopped at the intersection and waited for several cars and trucks to pass. Then they ran across.
“So, is that why you’re ashamed?” she asked as they skirted around a burned-out car. Nnamdi wished someone would remove it. It was like a corpse. Actually, at one point, there had been a corpse inside it. Seven months ago, a drunk driver known all around Kaleria for nearly running people over had finally hit and killed a woman trying to cross the street. This was the last straw. Within a minute, an angry mob surrounded his car and set it on fire . . . with him inside. His father would never have allowed “jungle justice” to happen in Kaleria, let alone leave the burned-out vehicle on the side of the road. Times had certainly changed.
“I didn’t say I was ashamed.”
“I know,” she said. “But I know you. You don’t have to say it for me to know.”
“What?” Nnamdi rolled his eyes and kissed his teeth. “I just think I should do something.”
“About what? The Chief of Chiefs? The riffraff he works with? What could you do? Did you hear about Mama Go-Slow?”
Nnamdi nodded. “Yeah, she struck again yesterday, right?”
“At the height of evening traffic this time! The woman and her thugs are getting bold,” Chioma said. “My neighbor Father Raphael lost an entire batch of holy water and holy bread! He said some masked person appeared out of nowhere inside his car and then the person, water, and bread were gone!” She pressed her left eye with her index finger. “In the blink of an eye!”
“Even holy things aren’t safe,” Nnamdi said.
“I know, right? My mother says this town used to be rich and now it’s becoming rubbish. You have nothing to be ashamed of. Even your father couldn’t stop these people and all the corruption.”