Ikenga by Nnedi Okorafor

Author:Nnedi Okorafor
Language: eng
Format: epub
Publisher: Penguin Young Readers Group
Published: 2020-08-17T16:00:00+00:00

Stuck

“OH MY GOD,” Nnamdi whispered over and over as he made his way home. He still felt heavy and strong and his head was throbbing as if it were full of exploding stones. The night air was hot, pressing at his head. He was sweating. Or was that blood he felt dribbling down his belly? Did I kill him? I might have killed him, he thought. He made his way home only because his feet took him in that direction. A scrawny dog trotted out of an alley, took one look at him, whimpered, and scurried away.

“What am I?” he whispered. He looked at his arms. They were wrapped in shadow. His hands were the size of dinner plates and strong enough to crush rocks to dust. He heard himself breathing heavily, his mouth open. He sounded like an elephant. He stopped and touched his chest. He felt mangled flesh there, and wetness, though he could not see blood due to his body’s darkness. This was nothing like what he’d imagined being a superhero would be like. If he’d killed someone, he was no better than the Chief of Chiefs. He was worse. A monster.

On the other side of the street he saw the akara lady, sitting at her stall, frying fresh akara over a flame. If she was out, it couldn’t be really late at night. She usually went in around eleven. Her pot was empty. She was frying up her last batch of akara. She looked up at him as he passed on the other side of the one-way street. He could hear her gasp and her heart rate quicken. The akara lady stared at him and lifted a tentative hand, either a greeting or signaling him to stop. He kept running.

He scrambled up and over the wall in the back of the house, easily scaling the sharp glass and barbed wire. As he approached his window he slowed down. If Never Die was dead, he would never commit a crime again. So why wasn’t Nnamdi changing back? By the time he got to his window, he was shuddering with panic. He could not let his mother see him like this. A violent monster. She’d think he’d come to rob or kill her. Regardless, at his size, he couldn’t even fit through the window. He sat down in the grass in front of the window and leaned against the wall.

He might have killed a man tonight. He had not controlled his power. He hadn’t just been angry. In the jumble of anger, outrage, and shock, he’d been consumed by rage. He could blame no one but himself for what he’d done. He crept to the garden. Maybe there he would calm down and shift back to himself. Maybe his father would even appear or at least speak to him. Maybe.

Nnamdi stood among his growing yams, tomatoes, onions, sunflower shoots, peppers, and herbs. The smell of this place would usually have soothed him. But in this state, his senses were heightened.

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