The Soles Of Damini Manor

CHAPTER 24: GRANDMA GETS IT TOO

Kanyin

It's been two weeks since the death of Tinu Williams and her son Jide Williams (He was conveniently found dead in Lake Omuri). The news has spread around Lẹ́kò like wildfire prompting a murder investigation by the sheriff and, surprisingly we aren't suspects (Madam K's doing I'm guessing).

We were ordered by the other Ere's not to say a single word about the night detention in exchange for not wiping our memories, and we've gone days pretending like we didn't receive the Night Notice, and Tinu didn't get burned alive in front of us. Meanwhile, Kola and I have bigger issues to worry about. Madam K is getting cranky and the only way to stop her is by finding more shoes, but, our amethysts seem to be taking a break of some sort. Our only solace is that she can't harm us because we are the only ones who can lead her to the remaining shoes that Kola assumes she wants destroyed, allowing her to stay on earth permanently.

We've been stuck with the normal school routine and I haven't seen Kola much. When he's not playing video games, he's at rehearsals, and for someone who figured out who Shakespeare was about three weeks ago, he's always pretty eager to attend rehearsals. And I know my brother, very little things excite him.

Terna and I are also going strong. When we're not making out at every chance we get, he's carrying my bags while he walks me to class, opening my doors, reading books while I sketch, and listening to me when I speak. There's nothing imperfect about him.

"You lot better not be thinking of going to that Independence day dance tonight. Dances are childish," Terna says, perching into a seat on the cafeteria table where Feyi and I are eating.

"You don't like the dance?" I clarify at the edge of my seat.

Feyi and I have talked nonstop about this dance for the past week. Her boyfriend, Jacob, even made them pick a color so they could match. And my boyfriend calls it childish? I guess there is something imperfect about him after all. I've waited all week for him to ask me, and all he's done when I try to hint at it is play with my hair and call me pretty. And, of course, my attention wavers.

"Excuse me, what do you mean by childish? This dance is to honor our home country for gaining its independence fifty-six years ago. If anything, I believe it holds cultural significance," Feyi counters, taking a spoonful of her boiled beans and peppered sauce.

This week is my tribe's food—the Yorubas. As much as I would like to enjoy the spice from the sauce that prickles my throat, Terna's words have given it a terrible aftertaste.

"I get that, but in what way is a stupid dance honoring that? We should be memorizing the national anthem or something. Or waving the flag as we march around Lẹ́kò, not a bloody school dance," he chastises.

He even dares to scowl after his statement, which means there's no way in hell he's asking me to the dance. There goes my Friday night.

"So you're going?" he asks Feyi.

"Absolutely. Jacob and I chose sky blue to color coordinate," Feyi gushes, swooning at the thought.

I love how comfortable she is around Terna now. If it was a couple of weeks ago, she would have been shivering in her Louboutin's at the thought of walking past him. But after a long speech about our Nigerian parents and how they love so much to exaggerate things, I managed to convince her that Terna isn't the villain but a troubled boy in need of love. Emphasis on the troubled part, since he hates dances where students get to be happy and free.

"How's my babycakes doing this morning?" he asks, planting a loving gaze on me.

Okay, that will do it.