Akata Witch by Nnedi Okorafor

agility. Chichi was always quick and on point, but now those qualities were exaggerated. The oddest thing was that Chichi’s spirit face still somehow looked like Chichi. She did have a pointy chin and a long face. She changed herself back, and for a moment the girls just stared at each other.
    “What’s Igri?” Sunny asked.
    “My spirit name.”
    “So I have my own spirit face, too?”
    “Yeah.”
    Sunny held the chewing stick Sasha had given her, and though it was all frayed, she put it in her mouth. She was glad it was still minty. “So, how do I—”
    “Do you remember how you felt when Anatov brought you back?”
    “Yeah,” she said. “Like the best ballet dancer on Earth.” Chichi smiled. “Wait a minute, you and Orlu—and Anatov—”
    “Yeah, we all saw,” Chichi said, looking guilty. “I only looked for a second before I turned away.”
    “But you said it’s like being naked.”
    Chichi smiled sheepishly. “Yeah.”
    “Oh my goodness! I’m so embarrassed!”
    “Come on, we’re your friends.”
    “Look at all the stuff you said before you would even give me a peek of your spirit face! Yet there I was for everyone to see! It’s like my butt was exposed!”
    “Different context,” she said with a laugh. “And your spirit face is nothing like your butt.”
    “At least Sasha wasn’t there,” she mumbled. “So . . . what did I look like?”
    Chichi gestured at Sunny’s umbrella. “It’s funny. You know how you told me you need this when noon hits? Well, your spirit face looked . . . you looked like the sun!”
    Sunny shrank back. “What?”
    Chichi just shrugged. “So you felt like a ballerina?”
    Sunny blinked and then nodded. “Yeah. All graceful and . . .” she tapered off. “I’ve always loved ballet but I can’t do it.”
    “Okay, well—here.” Chichi reached into her pocket and took out a knife with a jade handle and a bronzed blade. She cut the air in front of Sunny and spoke some words. Sunny didn’t understand, but she recognized them as Efik, the language and ethnic group of Chichi’s mother. Suddenly, classical music began playing. Right above Sunny’s head, to her left, to her right, she couldn’t tell where it was coming from.
    Sunny had always felt a strange, sometimes painful, pull whenever she heard classical music. It was part of the reason she liked ballet so much. Now that feeling was stronger than ever.
    “Concentrate on the ballet music and cross the bridge,” Chichi said quickly. “Your grace will protect you from falling . . . I think.”
    “You think ?” she asked. But something was taking her over. She could feel that tightening sensation on her face. A languidness in her body. She strode onto the bridge, disregarding its narrowness.
    She felt so good and confident that she laughed, thinking, Man, this is going to be easy . With her peripheral vision she could see golden points radiating from her face. Her spirit face had sun rays, too! She laughed again, feeling a wave of pleasure as the classical music hit a crescendo. She danced over the narrow bridge on her sandaled toes, once in a while doing leaps that took her dangerously close to the edge. She felt not an ounce of fear.
    Beneath, the water swirled, pounded, gushed, and thrashed. She watched it as she danced, glimpsing an enormous dark, round face under the water. Whatever the creature was, the river’s strength was nothing to it. It was watching her. She did a leap for the monster, a chaîné turn, and then a pirouette. She looked it in the eye, another laugh in her throat. Only a few feet away, the white mist swirled and gave way to the end of the bridge and whatever lay beyond it.
    Suddenly, her confidence wavered.
    The wind blew harder and Leopard Knocks opened up before her like the New York skyline. It was nowhere near as big, but it was grand. Huts stacked upon huts like hats at a hat shop. Not a European-style building in sight. All this was African.
    She quickly walked to the