Akata Witch (23 page)

“Wow,” she said, looking over the field. “The lines look so perfect.”

“They have a little machine to help,” Sasha said. “Let’s jog.”

After the first lap, she realized the field was really uneven. There were rocks sticking out and small holes probably made by snakes or rodents. This was going to be a challenge for everyone, not just her.

“Who’s your favorite soccer player?” Sasha asked as they jogged.

“Pele,” she said. “You know, during the Biafran War—that’s the Nigerian civil war back in the sixties—the Nigerian and Biafra sides stopped fighting for two days to watch him play.”

“Really?”

“Yep. As one man, he stopped all the killing. He was that good.”

“So you like playing forward, like he did?”

“Well, as far as I know,” she said. “I haven’t had much real experience.”

“I wish we had a ball to kick around,” he said.

“You know, I think I saw a
tungwa
floating around over there,” she said. They both laughed so hard they had to slow down.

More boys joined them as they ran. Nobody spoke, but those in white uniforms congregated at one side of the field, those wearing green at the other. An audience slowly gathered, too. Most of them were teenagers.

“Green team over here!” a tall guy said. He looked about seventeen, and wore a green uniform and nice soccer shoes, one of which he rested on a beat-up ball.

“Hey,” Sunny said to Sasha as they walked over. “He was on our funky train.”

Sasha raised his eyebrows.

“I hit him in the head by accident with my bag when we were getting on. He’s Igbo.”
And gorgeous
, she added to herself.

He had a clipboard. The boy who had taken their names stood behind him. He made eye contact with Sunny and quickly looked away.

“My name is Godwin,” the older boy said in English. “I’m team captain this year.” He paused. “Do you all understand me? Who understands English?”

Everyone raised a hand except for three boys.

“No English?” Godwin asked them.

“
Français
,” one of the boys said.

The boy next to him nodded and said, “
Oui, je parle Français, aussi
.”

“
Moi aussi
,” the third boy said.

She wondered where they were from. They didn’t seem to know each other, so most likely they were from three different French-speaking African countries.

“I speak French,” a stocky boy of about fifteen spoke up.

“Good,” Godwin said. “What’s your name?”

“Tony.”

Godwin nodded. “Translate. I’m going to call off names— tell me where you’re from and your age.” As Tony translated, Godwin looked at his clipboard. “Mossa?”

One of the French speakers stepped forward.

“My name is Mossa and I’m from Mali,” Tony translated. “I’m twelve years old.”

Godwin looked the boy over. He kicked the ball to Mossa.

“Dribble it and then kick it into the goal as hard as you can. Aim it into the left side,” Godwin said.

Tony translated. Mossa jumped into action. When he dribbled the ball, he almost tripped over it. He kicked it with all his might and it flew over the right side of the goal, along with his shoe.

Sunny pinched Sasha’s arm as they both tried not to laugh. A few of the taller boys held nothing back and bellowed with laughter. Mossa looked embarrassed and quickly ran to get the ball and his shoe.

“Kouty?” Godwin said.

“I’m from Nigeria,” he said. “I’m fourteen years old.”

“Good to see you again.” Godwin looked him over. “I know how you play. What do you want to play this year?”

“Goalkeeper.”

Godwin laughed and shook his head. “Position’s filled. What else?”

“Center-back.”

Godwin nodded. “That’s what I had in mind.” He looked at his clipboard. “Sasha?”

Sasha pushed through his teammates and stood before Godwin with a smirk on his face. “I’m from the United States of America. I’m fourteen.”

Godwin looked him over. “What are you doing in Nigeria?”

“Parents sent me to live with family friends—to keep me out of trouble.”

“This one is going to get us slapped with penalties,” Godwin said to the rest of the team.

Everyone laughed, including Sasha. “Do what I asked Mossa to do.”

Sasha took the ball, dribbled, and then kicked it as hard as he could into the goal. It went in, but through the center instead of the left side.

“Not bad,” Godwin said, writing something down. “Agaja.”

The tallest, brawniest boy stepped forward. Sunny imagined the ground shaking with his every move. He had a shiny bald head and the most muscular legs she had ever seen. “I’m from Benin,” Agaja said in a deep voice. One of his front teeth was chipped. “I’m eighteen.”

“Dribble and kick it into the goal, right side,” Godwin said.

Agaja’s feet were lightning fast, whirling and juggling the ball, making it obey his every whim, and then
POW!
—he blasted it dead into the right side of the goal. They all clapped.

“That’s encouraging,” Godwin said with a grin. He looked at his clipboard and paused. “Sunny?”

She moved past the staring boys. She felt like she was in slow motion.

“Uh-uh,” Godwin said, shaking his head. “No girls.”

“Do you want to win?” Sasha cut in. “Because I’ve been watching that other team. Most of them are over sixteen. Look at them.”

They all did. Those in white were all not only older, but a
lot
bigger. Whoever had gone around searching for players had taken it more seriously than the boy from the green team.

“Dammit,” Godwin said. “Shouldn’t have left it to my little brother.” He gave the boy a dirty look. Godwin sucked his teeth and said, “Even less reason for a girl.”

“Why not?” she demanded.

“Because you’re a
girl
,” Agaja said in his monster voice. “It’s simple.” Several of the others agreed.

“So?”

“Give her the test,” Sasha said. “It’s stupid to judge without knowing what you’re judging.”

Godwin threw the soccer ball hard at Sunny. She caught it and glared at him. Then she turned and glared at all of them.
Idiots
, she thought. “What do you want me to do?” she asked Godwin.

“Agaja,” Godwin said, “go stand in front of the goal. No, better yet, I will.” He handed his clipboard to his brother. “Agaja, you play defender.”

She watched Godwin walk to the goal and Agaja position himself in front of him. Her palms were sweaty. Godwin bent into a ready position. “Okay, Sunny,” he said. “Get the ball past us.”

She dropped the ball, placed her foot on it, and glanced at Sasha. He looked nervous, but nodded his head in encouragement. She began dribbling. The motion warmed and soothed her body. It felt so good to kick a soccer ball out in the open, under the sun. She dribbled, weaving left and right as she worked to avoid Agaja and move the ball toward Godwin—her feet flew faster, forward, back a half step, forward, diagonally, in a circle around the ball, faking to the right. She got the ball past Agaja and he grunted in frustration. She danced with the ball the way she danced over the tree bridge to Leopard Knocks. She felt her spirit face stir just behind her physical face. But she had her in control and kept her there.

She brought her foot back and fired the kick. The ball flew to the far right. Godwin jumped, his eyes wide, his mouth open. It was almost in. Almost. Then Godwin managed to tip it away just in time. He fell onto his side.

She slowed down, putting her hands on her hips. She looked down, ashamed that she hadn’t made the goal.

“Wow!” she heard one of the team members say, impressed.

She looked up.

“Man!” another cried. “
Ah-ah
, you see that?”

One of the French speakers excitedly said something in French.

Agaja patted her on the shoulder. “Not bad.”

Godwin rose. He walked up to Sunny and just stared.

“See?” Sasha said, grinning.

“Yeah,” he said, taking the clipboard from his brother. “Okay.”

Sunny was all smiles. “I’m almost thirteen,” she said. “And I’m—I was born in America, but both my parents are Nigerian and I’ve lived in Nigeria since I was nine. . ..”

“So you’re Nigerian?” Godwin said, frowning, unsure what to write down.

“No,” Sasha said. “American.”

“Whatever you want to put,” she said. She was just glad to play.

There were eleven of them in all. Godwin was goalkeeper. Sasha was assigned center half. Sunny was center forward. Her accomplices, the left and right wings, were the two other best and oldest and biggest boys on the team, Ousman and Agaja. As they stretched, she looked up and was surprised at the size of the audience that had gathered. It was huge— almost the size of the one for the wrestling match.

“Hey, Godwin. You ready?” the other team captain asked.

“Yeah,” he said. “Give us two minutes.”

They huddled. “Everyone here?” Godwin asked.

They all said, “Yes.”

“The other team looks like they’re all seventeen- and eighteen-year-olds who ate steroids with their
fufu
,” Godwin said. Those of them who could understand laughed. Tony translated for the French speakers and then they laughed, too.

“Doesn’t matter,” Godwin said. “Just looking at our center will distract the hell out of them. No offense, Sunny.”

“None taken,” she said. A thought crossed her mind.
Are they going to use juju in the match? And if not, what of natural abilities?
Her natural abilities would be useless. How could she kick a soccer ball while invisible?

“They’re going to play dirty,” Godwin said. “So if you have to, do the same. We’ll use an attack formation, so threethree-four. Sasha, you’re going to be up there with Sunny, Agaja, and Ousman when you need to be.” He paused. “For those of you who are new to this, you can’t use juju in the Zuma Football Cup. If you do, we’ll all get disqualified. And you can’t use your natural mystical abilities. This is football, Lamb style.”

A few team members groaned, the French speakers groaning seconds after Tony translated. Sunny had never been so relieved.

“Stop moaning!”
Godwin snapped. “Buck up. This is real.”

“We’re ready,” Agaja said. He hadn’t groaned at all.

“I’m definitely ready,” Sasha said.

Sunny slapped hands with Ousman. Godwin held a hand out and they all took it.

“For the Zuma Football Cup!” he shouted.

“For the Zuma Football Cup!” they shouted back.

The referee stood in the middle of the field with a pad of paper and stick of chalk. He was drawing a series of loopy symbols that apparently meant:
I will not use juju or my Leopard abilities.
Both teams faced each other.

“Do you all know the rules?” the referee asked loudly.

“Yes,” they chorused.

“Each of you step up and seal it.”

Everyone crowded in and the referee watched closely to make sure that each player pressed a thumb to the center of the symbol.

“You won’t like the result if you break this pact,” he told everyone. “So don’t even try.”

All the players ran to their positions for the kickoff. The white team had won the coin toss, so Sunny stepped into the center circle as the green team stepped back.

“The players are getting in position,” an amplified young female voice said. Sunny saw the commentator in the front of the audience. “It seems that the green team will play the ball forward first. Not since fifteen years ago when Onyeka Nwankwo played for the green team has a girl participated in the Zuma Cup. But this albino girl is certainly the first ever to play
center forward
! What excitement we are having on this warm Zuma Festival Day!”

“What is this?” the center forward for the white team asked his teammates in English. He pointed at her and turned to his teammates. “You see this?”

One of the other boys in white laughed and said something in a language she didn’t understand. Two other boys in white laughed hard, too. There was a rise in the chatter from the audience. She was used to ridicule, but this hurt more than usual. This wasn’t just about her being albino, this was about her being a girl—an ugly girl.
Stupid boys. Stupid, blockhead, idiot boys
, she thought.

“Hey, Godwin, who said ghosts could play?” the boy in front of Sunny loudly asked.

Godwin only shook his head, hunkering down into position. The white team’s center was about to say something else when he suddenly fell backward. Behind her, Sasha laughed hard. “Asshole,” Sasha said, putting a pouch of juju powder back into his pocket. Sunny grinned.

“Ibou, are you all right?” the ref asked the white team’s center.

“Ibou grunted, angrily getting to his feet.

“Hey, no more of that,” the ref said, pointing at Sasha.

Sasha held his arms out. “The game hasn’t started yet.”

“Well, now it has.” The ref took out a pocket watch, put a whistle to his lips, and blew, handing the ball to Sunny.

She placed it on the center spot and took a deep breath. The moment she brought her foot back, five copper
chittim
fell next to Sunny, but she was too busy to care. She kicked the ball diagonally to Ousman and ran.

“And they’re off,” the commentator said. “Ousman kicks it back to Sunny. Sunny takes the ball around Ibou, the center forward from Senegal!
Look at those feet!
”

She remembered what Godwin said about the other team being distracted by her, and she took full advantage of the element of surprise. She dribbled the ball with speed, zigzagging around the other team and checking her peripheral vision for flashes of green. She spotted Agaja to her left. When she got close enough to the goalpost, she passed the ball to him. He took the shot. It flew in like a bullet. The crowd jumped up and shouted.

“GOOOOOOOOOAL! The green team scores!” the commentator shouted.

“Ha-ha!” she shouted, running over to Agaja and hugging him. She heard someone shout her name and saw Orlu and Chichi standing up and jumping in the front seats. She blew a kiss at them and they cheered louder:
“Sunny, o! Sunny, o!!!”