DELETED SCENES

Bad Grades and Bad News

TJ sighed and picked up his tattered backpack. It ripped at the bottom and barfed out a pile of folders and books. Grunting, TJ collected his supplies, hoping no one saw him. But everyone else was already gone. When he finally put away his last piece of paper he caught sight of one of his handwritten notes: Song Critique due Friday. 

And of course today is Friday, TJ thought as he stuffed the paper into his bag. He’d just have to wing it like he always did. Too bad he was terrible at it. 

Typically, if someone wasn’t great at sports, the universe sort of made up for it by making that person a genius or something. But for TJ, whose average grades were Bs and Cs—a big no-no for a Nigerian mother—that wasn’t the case. And to think she wanted him in private school again this year. His father advised against it, at least while TJ was in middle school. He insisted the boy get a more diverse outlook to local schools. “The boys need to be exposed to the hood before they go off to that magic school” TJ remembered his father telling his mom. But TJ never got accepted into Ifa Academy, one of the premier magical schools in West Africa. He didn’t have “enough” Ashe, the priests had said. So TJ’s father got his wish. 

TJ frowned down to his bookbag, now clutched to his chest so nothing else would fall out. It’d been years since he had gotten a new one. Even if he was accepted to Ifa, he had no idea how his parents could afford the tuition. Dad had never recovered after he was let go from his job at UCLA. Still, Mom had insisted on private school, and each of them argued for weeks before agreeing that TJ and his younger brother would go to Barack Hussein Obama II Charter Middle as a compromise.

So TJ could never quite get in with the school’s overachievers. When it came to sports, well… the lunchtime game was example enough. And though TJ enjoyed his fair share of pop culture, he could never quite get into the deep lore conversations the nerds seem to gorge on.

But it was the last year of middle school. Once he got to high school he could reinvent himself, “find his tribe” as his older sister would always say. He missed his sister and the way she used to laugh at his bad jokes, or how she ran her hand through his naps and curls. If she were here, she’d tell him exactly what he needed to hear to get through the day.

As TJ passed from the late spring heat into the humid indoor temperatures—the air-conditioning in the school was always breaking down—Principle Garcia stopped him with a single large and hairy hand. 

What’s going on now? 

TJ hadn’t even hit his growth spurt yet, and he almost saw eye to eye with the balding man. It seemed like all of his hair had retreated from his head and relocated to his arms and knuckles.

“Tomori Jomiloju Young?” he asked. His voice always sounded like something was caught in his throat, and he pronounced TJ’s full name better than most, though it was still wrong.

“Just TJ,” he corrected him.

“What’s that on your shirt?”

TJ looked down to find a few spots of blood. “Oh, nothing. Just wanted to see if red went well with the blue in my uniform. Answer: it doesn’t.”

Garcia narrowed his eyes but didn’t press the issue. “Listen, son. I’ve got some bad news.”

TJ rolled his eyes. “Was it Tunde again?”

His brother always got himself in some sort of trouble. TJ told him he was too smart for his own good, always talking back to the teachers or riling up the wrong bullies. Granted, the kid was a little genius, already skipping two grades—now one just below TJ. He could almost hear his little brother’s voice in his head saying, “Don’t worry, I’ll skip another two so you won’t embarrass me in the same classes.”

“No, it’s your sister,” Garcia said, his dark eyes free of any humor. 

TJ’s stomach went empty, like he was going to be sick. What did Dayo have to do with his principal? 

He didn’t like the look Garcia was giving him. 

TJ gulped before asking, “What about her?”

Garcia drew a hand around TJ’s shoulder. The gentleness in his touch only made TJ‘s unease worse. “Come with me, son. Your family is waiting for us in my office.”

Principal Garcia Gives Bad News

TJ licked his dry lips for the eighth time in a minute, his nerves getting the best of him. It didn’t help that today the school halls smelled like bleach-covered barf. TJ tried to convince himself that’s why his lunch was coming up in his throat, but he knew it was something else making him nauseous. He wished Principal Garcia would just tell him what was going on then and there, but the dude didn’t as much as raise a bushy eyebrow as they marched down the hall. 

The walk to the office took far too long for TJ’s liking, and the school wasn’t even very large. Like any charter school, whoever built it designed it to not be overcrowded or overstuffed. Despite that, the walk to the office was a never-ending tunnel like one of those shots in an old Hitchcock film.  Everything was ghost-quiet, like something had sucked the sound from the hall except for the click-clack of Garcia’s loafers and the squeak-squeak of TJ’s Jordans.

When they finally arrived at the office, TJ could have sworn he sweated out the entire half-gallon of water his father forced him to drink that morning, his nerves getting the best of him. The principal looked to him evenly, though a hint of something grave darkened under his eyes. TJ must have looked like a wide-eyed doe. It was the best way he knew how to contain himself—with a stilted expression. Otherwise, who knows what sort of embarrassing crack his voice would have made.

“What happened to her?” TJ asked, his voice huskier than he thought as it came out.

Principal Garcia’s face didn’t change, but it looked like the line in his mouth curled down ever so slightly. He grunted a nod and pushed his office door forward. TJ’s brother, Tunde, sat in the drab-looking room of dull browns and lifeless greens. The little boy rested his hands on the arm of his chair, his grip was just on the edge of squeezing the clawed, wooden design. Through the curtain of his sun-baked dreadlocks, his eyes looked laced with worry. His chest rose and caved in and out with an uneasy rhythm. 

TJ swallowed hard. With his brother there, he couldn’t be doe-eyed like he was in the hall. So he took in a deep breath in his nose and loosened the tension building in his shoulders, trading his surprised expression for one of strength and confidence. Tunde might have been as sharp as Frederick Douglass, but he wore his emotions openly as he hunched over in his seat, holding his elbows tightly against his sides like he always did when he was nervous. TJ wouldn’t be any help if he looked dower too. He did his best not to chew at his lip.  

Sagging into his own chair next to his brother, TJ looked straight ahead at the framed motivational poster which read: Think positive and positive things will happen. Something in the words seemed ominous to TJ, something false. 

Principal Garcia held a hand against his tie as he hefted into his own seat. Like the trip through the halls, the room remained devoid of sound. And without TJ and Garcia’s shoes tapping against linoleum, there was nothing to cut through the awkward silence. The trio sat bare to the quiet, Tunde scratching at the edge of his chair, Garcia adjusting the papers at his desk but looking for nothing in particular, and TJ holding his chest tightly, not realizing the breath he needed to let out.

The principal cleared his throat. “Like I was saying before… your sister—”

“She’s all right, right?” Tunde asked, tears already welling in his eyes. TJ looked away from him quickly or else he’d join in.

“We have to wait until your parents get here,” Garcia said. “For now you can—”

“Answer the question,” TJ said defiantly, his gaze steady, unmoving. 

“It’s against protocol, son. I could get in trouble if I said anything without your mother and father being here.”

TJ continued his staring contest with the principal. But he knew he couldn’t get anything out of the man that way. He just couldn’t bring himself to say the words that would force the issue. He just couldn’t believe what the long, silent walk, the cryptic looks, and the “protocol” were all leading to. He didn’t want to say it, yet he had to. 

“Is she dead?”

Out of the corner of his eye, TJ could see his brother’s dreadlocks fly in his direction.

“Listen, you two,” Garcia spoke into his folded hands instead of the boys. “The doctors… they did what they could.”

“What? What do you mean?” Tunde cried. TJ didn’t turn to look at him but could hear the sniffling in his nose. The tears must have already started pouring down his cheeks.

The lump in Principal Garcia’s throat jumped. “She passed away in Lagos—in Nigeria.”

TJ felt his head drop as all the air he held in for the past few moments let out in quick staccato breaths. It couldn’t be true. Dayo was untouchable, everyone said so. How could she know all those spells and rituals and not be? Maybe Principal Garcia was mistaken. He was just a normal man, after all. He didn’t know about TJ’s world and the extraordinary things that could be done within it. If he did, he wouldn’t just say Dayo had “passed away.” Diviners didn’t just… die. If it was true, if she really was gone, something else must have happened.

“How?” TJ asked, unconvinced of what he was told.

Garcia jerked back in his chair with raised brows. “We aren’t sure what the cause is. I know she was still young, but it’s not unheard of—”

“No,” TJ cut in it. “What was it?”

Garcia looked into his hands again. “The cause of death was a seizure leading to a cardiac arrest, but they can’t be sure until they have her… looked at.”

TJ tried to suppress the image of his sister writhing on the ground before she went. It didn’t make sense. His older sister was in perfect health the last time he saw her. 

Tunde continued to cry into his hands, covering his sniffles. TJ got up from his chair and wrapped an arm around his little brother. Tunde embraced him around the middle tightly, damping TJ’s shirt with his wet and runny nose.

Dayo’s smile shone brightly in TJ’s mind. He just spoke with her a week ago when she called the entire family like usual. Sure, her hair was a mess, and she looked like she could do for some sleep, but dead? Not a chance. She was supposed to visit them during Thanksgiving, bring back some eleke beads from Nigeria for TJ.

TJ looked down to Principal Garcia and waited for him to say that he could have been wrong, that Dayo was in a hospital still clinging to life but he didn’t want to get their hopes up. The man didn’t know that if she got the right kind of doctor she’d be back on her feet in a few days, heart attack or not. 

But the words from Garcia that TJ hoped for never came. 

TJ could have sworn he heard him whisper, “should have waited for the damned parents” before he started sifting through his papers and grumbled about lawsuits.  When he had no more papers to pretend to fiddle through, he finally matched TJ’s gaze. There was nothing there that TJ could use for hope. His sister was really gone.

“Her body is being flown in from Nigeria,” Garcia said. “You and your family will be able to see her this weekend.”

TJ ponders Director Simmons

TJ’s parents had moved him from school to school since he was a kid for various reasons—whether it was one of his father’s new jobs, or his mother finding better work in a new part of Los Angeles. Each new principal or headmaster or mistress TJ met all said the same thing on the first day, and fewer actually made good on their word. 

Mom and Dad see the Body

Mom and Dad didn’t let TJ or his brother see Dayo’s body when it arrived Saturday morning. 

“What do you mean we can’t go?” TJ asked indignantly.

“Because we said no,” Mom said without even looking at him as she grabbed her coat. “You’ll get to see her during the ceremony.”

TJ threw his head to his father. “Dad? Come on.” 

Dad knelt down to TJ, his sharp goatee framing an outline around his mouth. “Listen, son. It’s best we go alone. You don’t want to see this.”

“Yes,” TJ gritted through his teeth. “I do.”

Dad frowned and turned to Mom. She didn’t even need to shake her head. Her narrowed eyes were enough. “Listen to your mother,” he said. “We’ll be back soon.”

Without another word, TJ’s parents left the house. As they opened and closed the door, the cool morning wind rushed over TJ’s face, chilling the anger twisting through his body. 

***

Dad wasn’t lying. Within an hour, he and Mom returned home. TJ and Tunde jogged to the front door to find their mother with wet eyes. She didn’t even look at them as she rushed upstairs. TJ felt like he could tip over at any moment, his head dizzy and his legs like limp noodles. 

It was true. It was really true. 

Dayo was gone. 

Tunde rushed to Dad and squeezed him in a hug. His voice was muffled through Dad’s coat, but TJ could still hear the full extent of his howling. TJ and his father stood motionless, still as ice. Though Dad’s cheeks were free of any tears, he still wore a dead look of utter dismay. 

TJ looked to his father. His father looked to TJ. If it hadn’t already been clear before, the small shake of Dad’s head set it all in stone. Both of them stared at one another, looking as though they didn’t recognize each other, like nothing in the world made sense.

Recalling Dayo’s Face

TJ scoffed at himself. Regardless of what he did or wherever he went, he could not take his mind off his sister. 

So he decided to stop trying to block her out.

Across from where he stood rested his mother’s tablet atop the old picnic table. Mom must’ve forgotten it. As TJ picked it up, a few pieces of pastel flaked from the table, crunching like leaves. TJ pulled the metal chair out, and it scraped against the cement. Simba barked at the grating sound, and TJ apologized with a scratch behind the dog’s ears. Everything in and outside the house was old, withered, and broken.

Sitting down with a stylus in hand, TJ began sketching Dayo’s face from memory in a painting app. Like with many things in TJ’s life, he was not the best when it came to art, though he wasn’t the worst either. 

Not first, not last, he thought with a sigh. 

The easiest thing to get right was Dayo’s almond-shaped eyes. The nose and mouth were harder though, especially when Simba jumped up on TJ’s lap to lick his arms. When TJ got to the shape of Dayo’s face he had to stop himself in thought. It had been three years since he saw her in person, and he remembered that during her recent call her cheeks had become sallow and almost gaunt. Her hair was longer too. He realized he had been drawing from the memory of a Dayo who was three years in the past—when she graduated from Ifa Academy, the “great school” that kept her from him. 

So much changed in three years. As TJ considered the evolution of Dayo’s face, he considered his own change. Dayo would never know that he wasn’t as reserved as he was before. Granted, he wasn’t exactly a social butterfly, but he was no longer the wallflower either. She’d never know that his voice had cracked and dropped an octave since she saw him. She’d never know that sometimes his jokes were actually funny.

Sighing to himself, TJ pulled his phone out for reference, but none of his photos would’ve worked. The most recent one he had of Dayo was three summers ago when they had spent the day getting full on Santa Monica Pier funnel cake and ice cream. Dayo’s hair was shorter then, with small and tight little curls. And from what TJ could recall her hair had grown large and wide like a lion’s mane since then. There was probably a more recent picture somewhere in the house. 

Pushing his chair back with another loud rattle, TJ tucked the tablet under his hand and walked back toward the house with Simba bouncing at his heels. With three short heaves and a pair of jerks, TJ pried the sliding backdoor open, but a mountain of fabric blocked his path.

Adeyemi, Bolawe Converse about Keepers, Promised Children

“No!” TJ bellowed, going for her arm again, but she slipped past him and disappeared into the crowd once more. He was about to go after her when a deep voice rang out to his right.

“Who will come after the promised child?”

TJ jerked his head to the voice but couldn’t identify the speaker.

“She was our best play against Olugbala and his Keepers,” came another voice. It sounded female with a gentle Nigerian accent.

TJ turned his head in the other direction but still saw no one who spoke the words. He couldn’t explain it but the voices seemed to come out loud and distinct even through the rumble of songs and shouts.

“What of her brothers?” came the first voice again. This time TJ could hear another Nigerian accent in the timber. “Isn’t one of them of age to attend the academy?”

TJ stopped twisting his head, moved the side of the street where no one was walking, and closed his eyes to focus. Maybe he could find the voices better if he didn’t use his sight.

“That boy’s Ashe is almost non-existent, unfortunately.” TJ didn’t know the woman’s voice, but it sounded so light, almost angelic like the speaker knew her words would be received no matter her tone. “But who knows, the oracles and their shells might still be correct.”

TJ turned his attention back to where Mom had pointed out the other notable guests. And there the shimmering woman he had seen before stood, her make-up still glistening like specks atop the ocean. Even her dress flowed like the waters of the seas as she moved forward gracefully. It didn’t even look like she took steps, gliding atop the street as though on skates. 

TJ moved behind the woman and tried his best not to make it seem like he was eavesdropping. He couldn’t be sure of what they were talking about but he knew if he listened just a little longer…

“Perhaps Ifedayo can do more now that she is with the ancestors,” the woman—who’s name TJ had already forgotten—finished. 

So they had been talking about his sister. And what was it they said about her brothers, about him? TJ peaked through the bright dresses of two women to glimpse the second speaker. The man wore a black and orange tunic. Could it have been the man Mom pointed out before? TJ couldn’t see the impressions of his dotted face; he could only hear the quality of his baritone. 

“Only Olodumare knows her fate,” he said. “If I were you, I’d give the oldest boy a look yourself.”

“The babalawos ensure me there’s no need.” The woman waved her hand as fluidly as a queen. “They wouldn’t have even tested the boy twice if it weren’t for—”

A hand caught TJ at the collar and tugged him back before he could hear the last words. Twisting on his heel, TJ came face to face with his mother, whose eyes kept flitting quickly between TJ and the man and woman who disappeared into the crowd. She didn’t move her mouth to speak. It was like she was reading TJ’s face, looking to see how much he had heard. His wide-eyed expression must have told her he knew more than she wanted him to.

“Don’t pay them any mind,” she finally said. “Come. You stay with me until we get to the cemetery.”

Mom pulled him close to her waist and led him back to Dayo’s casket. TJ stretched his head over his shoulder but the mysterious pair was gone.

For the rest of the parade, Mom didn’t let TJ go even a few feet from her. Though she kept his ears away from any further conversations about promised children, she couldn’t stop TJ’s mind from racing on its own.

***

TJ couldn’t say he knew much about any of that stuff. But all of his theories circled back to the same conclusion. The reason everyone seemed to be so touched by Dayo was because she was special, more special than any normal diviner. TJ just couldn’t figure out in what way exactly. 

When not thinking up new theories about his sister, his thoughts revolved around what that other man in black and orange had said. He told that woman to give “the boy” another look. If they were talking about Ifedayo, then they could have only been conversing about TJ. It was too bad that the man’s faith in TJ would only be set up for disappointment. That woman was right. TJ’s use of Ashe was non-existent and he couldn’t hold a staff to Dayo’s talent. Perhaps Tunde one day could fill those shoes, but TJ could never do that in a lifetime. Still, the confidence in the man’s words filled TJ with something he had not felt since he got the news about Dayo: gratitude resting on the edge of happiness.

Camp Song

“Before we get into tonight’s Fireside Folklore, as I like to call it,” Simmons said. “I’d like to lead us in a prayer to the mother of Olosa, Yemoja. If you know the words, recite along with the group. If not, listen closely.” 

Yemoja, mother of the fishes,

Mother of the waters on the earth.

Nurture me, my mother

Protect and guide me.

The first four lines was all TJ could remember before he shut his mouth and listened to the rest. Campers and counselors continued speaking the prayer in an off-kilter harmony, neither group knowing which cadence to follow: The campers seemed to rush their prayer, wanting it to be over with, while the elders took a more steady pace, hanging on each word as though Yemoja was hard of hearing or something. 

By the middle of the prayer, both sides agreed on an unspoken rhythm, everyone settling for a tempo somewhere in the middle. As they chanted, the lake’s ripples grew more turbulent, cascading closer and closer to the firepit as though the hymn had awoken something within. But like the off-beat prayer, the lake seemed to be at odds with whether or not it should stir. Eventually, the song unceremoniously trailed off as the children's prayers devolved into generalized gibberish, the group clearly only pretending to know the words.

“Every year you’d think they’d get good at it,” Joshua mumbled. “But every time they’re always off. Don’t worry, it gets better by the end of summer.”

The Forgotten Tale

Every camper sat at the edge of their logs in anticipation. Then, Mr. Bolawe finally spoke:

As we all know, our people come from the land of Old Ile Ife. Long now has it been a place of peace… relatively.

A few of the elders chuckled and Bolawe smiled before continuing:  

But once, long ago, a great war tore it apart. Many say it was started by man, but those with greater wisdom know it was spread by the powers of the Orishas. 

Ogun, the Warrior, long left unchecked by his fellow Orishas, began to push humanity into war with one other. Over resources, revenge, tribalism—all the usual excuses we always seem to find. 

Bolawe seemed to scan each face in the crowd, old and young alike. A few of the elders who sat near the white flames nodded in approval of the telling. The campers sat with wide, curious eyes, TJ among them as he sat forward.

One human, known as the River Chief, was done with the fighting. But he wanted nothing to do with the other humans, who had stolen his lands’ healing berries. So he asked Oshun, the Orisha of Rivers, to carve him and his people a home. And so She did, creating the Benue and Niger rivers to give the Chief the protection he needed. 

Joshua, at TJ’s side, crossed his arms.

“What’s wrong?” TJ asked.

Joshua’s eyes shot wide and he fixed his expression. “Oh, oh nothing. It’s just erm… my grandmother told the story different, is all.”

Mr. Bolawe wiggled his fingers along the campfire and an image of humans atop a mountain sprang forth.

The rest of humanity, still enthralled in their warlike ways, were known as the Mountain Dwellers. They lived on the other side of the new river, and had become cut off from the precious berries they needed to treat their sick. They called upon The Warrior, who still heeded their own warring call. Seeing the new rivers, he led the humans through its treacherous current, and showed them the way across.

And so war came again. The folk of the River and Mountain turned their new waters red, and set their forests and farms ablaze. Blood spoiled the fields, ruining the crops and tainting the seasons harvests. 

And then the children began to starve. 

The flames transformed to show the acts of war: clashing swords, arrows through the air, famine, bloodshed, and all the rest. The heat of the flickering war licked at TJ’s chin. And his eyes watered at the image of emaciated children, who were more bones than skin. 

When Oko, the Harvester, could no longer sustain the fields of blood, he went to Olodumare, the Unseen Monarch, and begged him to intercede, to stop the scouring of their good earth. 

Bolawe clapped his hands together. “Now, campers. This is where the story really gets interesting, so pay special attention here.” A light twinkle shined in his eye. Something beyond the reflection of the firelight.  

So, Olodumare hears Oko’s pleas and turns to his most knowledgeable advisor, Orunmila the Wise, and asks what should be done. Never one to rush, The Wise pondered for sixteen days and sixteen nights. On the dawn of the seventeenth day, she answered her monarch: The Orishas should leave the humans to their own affairs without interference from the divine. 

The Unseen Monarch asked about the Coastal Folk of the lands, and Orunmila told him that, for the most part, they had kept themselves out of the fighting.

“Coastal Folk too? How many different people are there?” Little Gary asked in the crowd.

“Only three.” Mr. Bolawe beamed. “I assure you there are no more. But these people… the coastal folk are the most important. As they are the root of our ancestral path.”

“Ooooh!” Gary stretched. “Okay, I think I understand now.” 

Olodumare did not like this, and furrowed his brow. He said, ‘I will give these Coastal Folk a sliver of my power to quell this war of the Mountain and River. The Warrior and the River Maiden should not have concerned themselves with this mortal struggle. These Coastal Folk shall be the mediators and the bridge towards a new age for the people. And if they do not, then we shall leave them to their fate.”

TJ’s rear end had become sore from how far along the edge he was sitting. And his ears seemed to pulse with the strain of listening intently. This was the sort of thing he needed to know. A forgotten tale… something that he couldn’t just look up on Spiral or anywhere else. This was information that could only be learned from an elder like Mr. Bolawe.

So time went on, and the Chosen Children with the power of the Orishas failed to stop the fighting. Oh, most of them tried, but they were not enough. 

And the Mountain Chief was more cunning than the River Chief. Little did the Unseen Monarch know, against his liege’s commands, Ogun was still whispering guidance into his peoples’ ears. Instead of facing off against the empowered Coastal Folk, Ogun advised the Mountain Chief to bring them into an alliance. 

And many of the Chosen Children accepted.

In the end, Ogun’s Mountain Dwellers won their war. With the help of the Chosen Children, they forced Oshun’s River People to surrender with more dead than even the Great Orishas could count. 

Olodumare, shamed by the humans, tried to take their power away. But before he could, he mysteriously vanished... 

“Oooooh,” a few of the younger campers exclaimed in whispers. 

Mr. Bolawe’s eyes fell over TJ for a moment. The flames dancing around the man’s arms started to dissipate and the white flames seemed to die for a moment. The lake and the amphitheater around them darkened. 

To this day, no human has been able to communicate with an Orisha in their true spiritual forms. Before all communication was cut, however, the clouds parted and the heavens spread wide to the voice of the Wise. And Orunmila gave us one message, a divination of the Unseen Monarch’s return. The true details of Her message are still debated to this day. But one thing the Orcales all agree upon is the destined manifestation of a Promised Child will rise with the light of a dying star.

And so Mr. Bolawe’s story ended. 

The promised child, TJ thought. That’s what everyone called Ifedayo at her funeral. Was she supposed to be the one who set everything right? Sure, the world was pretty messed up, but it always had been. TJ couldn’t think of what kind of war or famine she would have been fighting against. It’s not like it mattered though. That Orunmila Orisha was wrong, the oracles and all the priests were wrong. Ifedayo might have been aligned with the Great Oracle, but she still died anyway. 

That didn’t stop him from looking up into the skies, searching for a star winking out of existence. But they all shined down with consistent flares.

“What’s wrong?” Joshua asked at TJ’s side.

He hadn’t realized he’d been frowning. “Nothing. Really… nothing. I just got a lot on my mind.”

***

Later that night, when Elder Wale called lights out and Joshua started up his snoring again, the last thought TJ could remember before he fell asleep wasn’t about a mile run, or duckweed, or even the cute girl who didn’t seem completely repulsed by him. His last thoughts revolved around Bolawe’s story like the planets revolved around the sun.

If Dayo was supposed to be that promised child, what did that mean for everyone else, for him? TJ’s mother always said prophecies were misread all the time. More still were outright wrong. But TJ couldn’t shake that thought of the Orishas going missing, and a promise of their return.

He brushed his fingers on the back of his neck, remembering that day in his sister’s room. What if Dayo was really inside him now, just waiting for him to continue her work? 

TJ’s heart sank. That couldn’t be true. 

Director Simmons said it herself. She’d be with the ancestors now. Distant. Gone, like the Orishas had gone in the story. 

TJ was alone. If he wanted to do right by his family, to do right by Dayo, he’d need to do it himself. No more falling back on magical staffs or stupid notions that he’d get help from his dead sister. If he was going to get that invitation from Ifa. It’d have to be on his terms. No one else’s.

Tomorrow, it was time to find out more about the promised child and the missing Olodumare. 

Not So Easy

It had become exceedingly clear to TJ that simply wanting something hard enough just wouldn’t cut it. 

Despite passing out after Miss Gravés’ Wednesday and Thursday classes, he still couldn’t break an eight-minute run. Even when studying his textbooks well after lights out, he couldn’t answer any of Du Bois’ questions—even falling asleep despite himself during some of the instructor’s sessions. And with Bolawe, though TJ enjoyed his classes, he couldn’t do any better with the water charms they were mastering that week. 

No matter how hard he concentrated his Ashe into his exercises, he still couldn’t keep up with the rest of the campers, not even the pre-teen group or the children. In fact, it seemed like everyone—especially Joshua, who spent the most time with him—seemed to do better than him at everything.

“I mean, I’m pretty good with magic as it is,” Joshua had said on the second day of camp. “But something about working with you, man... It’s like breathing in fresh air after being near smoke and fire or something… I don’t know…”

“You’re a really good teacher, TJ,” Manny had said on day three. “I never would have thought of shifting my hands like that to pull the water away from each other.”

“Heh, no problem,” TJ had replied sheepishly, thinking that perhaps his future lay in a career as an instructor. Heck, maybe he could be Bolawe’s assistant or something. That wouldn’t be so bad. He might not have gotten the first-class education kids who might go to Ifa got, but at least he’d be learning a little something with his counselor summer after summer. 

He had to remind himself that wasn’t the goal here, though. He needed to get into Ifa Academy, and he needed to find out more about what really happened to his sister.

That was easier said than done, of course. 

On the fourth day of camp, when TJ was partnered with Lorenzo in Mr. Bolawe’s class, he almost dropped the broken branch they’d been tasked to mend when the boy said TJ was like a lucky charm. It was regular ol’ middle school all over again. It only took a few days and already his old moniker replaced his name for most of the students.

“Well,” TJ had said to Joshua just after Bolawe’s fourth class, “if I can’t do anything but be a lucky charm, maybe I can at least do better at the normal classes. I almost didn’t fail Miss Gravés’ run this morning.”

“Are you going to eat that beignet?” Joshua asked through a mouthful of his own powdery pastry, ignoring TJ’s complaints.

TJ casually gestured for Joshua to have at it and the boy stuffed the beignet into his mouth, his lips dotted with sugar. Joshua moaned as though he had never had something so delicious before. TJ still hadn’t gotten used to how excessive the boy’s tones came after a particularly good meal. 

 “I don’t know how you people don’t eat this every day,” Joshua said as he licked his fingers.

TJ gave him a look. “What do you mean by you people?”

Joshua pushed his lips together like he’d said something wrong. Well, what he said was sort of wrong, maybe even offensive to a certain kind of company. But TJ couldn’t say he really cared as he watched Joshua look everywhere but at his eyes. 

TJ looked down to the bony bump at his wrist, then to Joshua’s, which was non-existent under his thick skin. “What? You mean like skinny people, or something?” 

“Yeah…” Joshua trailed off, looking almost relieved. “Sorry about that. Like you were saying, maybe you’ll do better with the other sessions. Or you can just do the tutoring classes after lunch.”

“And embarrass myself in front of Bolawe or Du Bois? No thanks. I’d rather they think I’m just a late bloomer, not a complete dud.”

But on the next and final day of the week, TJ didn’t do any better in the “regular” sessions. 

In Miss Gravés’ class, he kept pace with Manny for half a lap instead of just a quarter, yet she still left him in her literal dust. Despite that, TJ didn’t allow her to lap him, but on the last lap, TJ knew for a hundred percent fact that the girl had been deliberately slowing down on her final legs when he caught up. 

At the very least, TJ was able to outpace Ayodeji legitimately. But that was no achievement really—he’d been doing that since day one. 

“Pick it up, Mr. Oyelowo!” Miss Gravés shouted at Ayodeji as the boy dragged his feet on his final lap. “You’ve been here two years now. You should be well under eight minutes. Even Mr. Young has himself under nine minutes and it’s only been a few days. Make him your running partner. You both can help each other improve.” 

Too tired to roll his eyes, Ayodeji settled on a grunt that sounded like something between an exhausted exhalation and a long yawn. TJ rested his hands on his knees as he hunched over, looking for breath as Ayodeji accidentally tripped over the back of his knee.

“Bet you liked that, didn’t you?” he grunted with a scowl as he rejoined his friends. TJ gave the boy’s back a foul look, but quickly stopped when he realized that it didn’t matter what look he gave him if the boy didn’t see him in the first place. 

Next up was Ogbon instruction. TJ went into Du Bois’ class with absolutely no expectations. And, of course, the old man slammed the teen campers with a pop quiz on Olokun, the orisha of the ocean’s depths. 

TJ should have seen it coming. Throughout the week Mr. Du Bois kept hinting that the class should brush up on their knowledge of “the great and deep blue.” Despite the obviously cryptic reminders, TJ simply didn’t have the time to keep up. If he put too much time into his Ogbon Studies, then his mile run the next day suffered, or if he put too much effort into retaining new spells from Bolawe—like he had been doing the night before—he had no time to reread the chapters on “the deep blue.” 

But he couldn’t make any excuses when everyone else seemed prepared and ready. Ayodeji rifled over his quiz, answering each question with such ease that it seemed like his pen never lifted from his paper. And though Manny’s paper only had a few half-sketched lines, TJ was sure it was enough to at least pass. Joshua, on the other hand, had already leaned back in his chair and looked like he was fighting off the urge to fall asleep. When TJ took a peek at his paper, it surprised him to find every inch of it was filled with words. 

TJ decided there had to be something wrong with himself. Not just that his Ashe was softer than pound cake; it seemed like his general education was leagues behind. 

As TJ sat staring at the first set of questions, he could hear his mother screaming the answers in his head, yet her voice came in a rush of Yoruba he couldn’t understand. 

1. What threshold does Olokun preside over and who passes over it?

2. What items did sailors offer Olokun before embarking on their voyages across the sea?

3. In a short essay, explain how and why Olokun was chained to the bottom of the Atlantic during the Middle Passage.  

TJ tapped his pencil against his desk, hoping the rhythmic beat would bring forth some answers—any kind of answers. Usually, the first questions on quizzes were supposed to be the easiest, yet he couldn’t begin to even guess the answer. 

At first, he considered the threshold as the ocean itself, but he remembered his mother telling him that Yemoja oversaw the crest of the ocean where light still breaks through the surface, and Olokun supervised its depths. So perhaps the passage he controlled had something to do with deep darkness. 

After chewing the inside of his lip a few times, TJ wrote: “The threshold of the world’s knowledge and wisdom where shadows cover truth. A place where light meets dark, the way good meets evil.” 

The more he read it, the less he liked it. It was grade-A bull, an answer that was trying to be deep. Just a pretty cover up to hide that TJ didn’t know what the hell kind of threshold Olokun ruled over. 

How about we figure out the second question... he thought. 

Olokun ruled the deep dark oceans and was coveted for his great wisdom. So perhaps the sailors gave him some form of knowledge when they set out. But what kind of artifact of knowledge could be given to something that already had great wisdom? The sailors couldn’t give Olokun books; they’d just get ruined. Plus, the old sailors wouldn’t have had books to begin with. They did, however, have their oral traditions. Maybe all that was required was a story… an enlightening anecdote, like one of those fairy tales that taught you a lesson at the end. But that answer didn’t seem right. He’d probably have to write a specific example of an anecdote told to Olokun and the only one he knew was that story Bolawe told at them all during the first night. So he stopped his pencil’s tip-tap and wrote down his answer.

For the essay portion, TJ didn’t even entertain faking like he knew the answer and just wrote the standard “I don’t know.” Something his teachers back home hated with a passion. TJ could only guess what Du Bois would say about that. Most instructors would’ve instantly failed TJ for such a lazy response. TJ just hoped Mr. Du Bois wouldn’t stand up from his desk, look at TJ’s paper, and tell him to start packing his things.

Even if he attempted to write a legitimate answer, he wouldn’t have finished. 

Just as TJ lifted his pencil again to add more guesswork to his essay, Mr. Du Bois called time. Each campers’ paper whipped from under their hands, whether they were still writing or not, where they flitted through the air and stacked themselves neatly atop the counselor’s desk. A tall wooden statue with a too-long neck and disproportionate limbs sat behind the desk and started correcting the papers with a reed pen. Its bark creaked as it marked quiz after quiz with a mechanical precision that TJ’s eyes couldn’t keep up with. 

Mr. Du Bois lifted the first of the corrected papers as he twisted the edge of this thin mustache. “Mr. Reed. You have some very specific answers here.” 

Joshua straightened in his seat. “Yes, sir?” 

“Your first two answers were correct,” Du Bois started. “You got the threshold right. And you’re correct in saying sailors would offer cowry shells to Olokun before they set sail. But those were freebies, of course.” TJ felt his throat go dry. “But your essay here is quite interesting. Care to explain what you wrote?” He turned the paper to the rest of the class, revealing what looked like a novel down the page. A few of the campers gasped. One boy named Sydney even shouted an expletive, which he apologized for straight after. 

“I don’t think I need to explain much, sir,” Joshua said. “I think I was pretty thorough there.” 

Du Bois rose the paper to his nose and squinted. “On this third line here you seem to think Olokun was entrapped in his own fortress because Orunmila had a… bad attitude.”

“That’s right.” Joshua blinked twice like it was a matter of fact. 

“Did you forget that Olokun was set there to contain his great rage and power against us mortals?”

Joshua pursed his lips. “Depends on who tellin’ the story, I reckon.”

“Right…” Du Bois narrowed his eyes. “And I suppose a teenager knows better than generations of elders.”

“Well, I wouldn’t call myself a teenager exactly.”

“Oh? What would you call yourself, then?”

“Uh…” Joshua gave TJ a sidelong glance. “What I mean is that… I’d prefer to be called… a young man, is all.” 

“Whatever it is you’d like to be called, your very long-winded bit of fiction is still wrong.”

“What? You can’t be serious. That’s the way it happened. Orunmila just misunderstood—”

Du Bois held up an open palm. “That’s enough, Mr. Reed.” He snatched a second test from the air. “And you, Mr. Young.” TJ hid his face under his hand. Now he was going to hear it. “You have an interesting response I’d like to dig deeper into.”

“I wouldn’t,” TJ mumbled under his breath.

Du Bois turned sharp eyes on TJ. “What’s that?”

TJ looked up. Had he really said that out loud? The other campers stared at him like he’d just poked a lion. Ayodeji was on the edge of another one of his despicable sneers. 

“Nothing, sir.” TJ dropped his head, readying himself for whatever embarrassment would be slung his way.

Du Bois narrowed his eyes a second time. “In your first response you bring up the notion of good and evil. It’s a common misconception, especially here in the West.” He turned his voice to the rest of the class. “When speaking of the orishas, you’ll not find the concept of a devil or demons. The orishas are no more evil than a hurricane to a bayou or a panther hunting an antelope. They simply… are. They exist outside of the realm of morality in the sense that us as humankind understand it. While it is true that mankind can be good or evil, the same cannot be said for the orishas. Do you understand?” 

“Yes…” TJ muttered.

“Can anyone tell me the correct answer to this question?” 

Like clockwork, Ayodeji’s hand sprang into the air and Du Bois nodded to the boy.

“He commands the gate between the living and the dead, where souls cross between the realm of the living and the spirits.”

TJ wondered if anyone could pass between those gates. Or was the passage a one-way trip? Not for the first time that week, his sister crossed his mind. Maybe next time he visited the library he could look up more about Olokun and this border. 

“That’s correct,” Du Bois said as he pulled out another paper. “And it seems like you’ve received a perfect score on your quiz. Well done, Mr. Oyelowo.”

“No, thank you, Mr. Du Bois.” Ayodeji tilted his head toward TJ and gave him a cheeky wink. TJ had half a mind to flick him off, but he kept his fist clenched, instead, digging his nails into his palms. 

For the rest of the class, TJ checked out and doodled little stars and planets modeled after the ones hanging from the ceiling. Du Bois explained the history of Olokun and something about the orisha’s relationship with the other water deities. TJ probably should have paid attention, but he was afraid the moment he looked interested, Du Bois would’ve called on him to answer another question he didn’t know the answer to. 

When the session ended, TJ was already ready with his packed bag. He was almost halfway out of the door when Du Bois called him back.

“Mr. Young,” he said flatly. “Can I have a quick word?”

TJ pinched his eyes shut as the rest of the campers shuffled around him to get to Emi Study with Bolawe. The last thing TJ wanted was a private conversation with Du Bois, especially when Bolawe promised they’d be learning about hearing voices on the water. 

Ayodeji brushed against TJ’s shoulder. 

“Oh sorry,” he apologized. Nothing about his tone said he was genuine. “Good luck in there. At least you can tell your mother you lasted a week at camp before you got kicked out.”

TJ lunged at Ayodeji but a meaty hand clenched around his wrist. TJ twisted to find Joshua holding him in place. He figured the kid was strong but hadn’t realized how firm his grip could be.

“Fighting’s no fun,” he said with a cavalier whisper. “Don’t let him get to you.”

“Is there a problem, boys?” Mr. Du Bois asked.

TJ finally freed himself from Joshua’s grip. “No, sir.” 

“Then come over here. I don’t want you late for your next session.”

“Thanks, man,” TJ said to Joshua. “I’ll catch up to you later.”

“Yeah, sure thing.” Joshua saluted TJ and turned on his heel to follow the rest of the campers. 

TJ shifted toward Mr. Du Bois, but didn’t move from his rooted position at the door. The wooden statue had finished grading the papers and lifted itself to the corner of the room where it usually stood. When TJ met its eyes, it craned its elongated neck back straight, acting as though it wasn’t eavesdropping at all. 

“Please, sit.” Mr. Du Bois slumped into his seat as he rubbed at his temples. TJ kept his feet planted like stones. “I don’t bite, Mr. Young. Come, sit.” 

TJ dragged his feet a few feet forward and waited. 

“Listen, young man...” Du Bois started. Then he raised his voice, interrupting himself. “Mr. Reed, I don’t believe I invited you to stay. Please move onto your next session before I make you move.”

“Sorry, sorry!” came Joshua’s voice from the porch outside, which was followed by the plodding steps of the retreating boy.

Du Bois didn’t speak again until the sound of the door outside slammed shut. “I know you’ve started late and you’ve a lot to learn... but this...” He lifted TJ’s paper which was marked with a big fat zero in bright red ink. “This I cannot accept. If you don’t put in the effort, there are other young diviners who’d love your spot. When your sister was here she never had an issue, she was quite astute. I don’t know why you’re not applying yourself.” 

I am applying myself!

“Is there anything you need from me? Are there concepts that are not clear for you?”

Anything not clear to me? Let’s see, let’s start with chapter one...

“Your sister did so much better when she—”

“Enough about my sister!” TJ shouted despite himself. Du Bois lifted his eyebrows, then dipped his chin into his hand. But he made no move of retort, no change came to his face to say TJ was about to be in trouble. 

“Sorry. I’m just tired of hearing about her, is all.” 

Mr. Du Bois’ posture remained stoic and unmoving. To TJ, it looked like he was being examined, but he couldn’t tell. And when the eye contact grew too uncomfortable, he cast his eyes to the ceiling, where the child campers’ planetary projects hung from the ceiling. 

Du Bois was the first to break the silence. “If you will begrudge me this. I think it’s important for you to know this. Your sister was one of our best juniors. She even taught me a few things.

“A junior? My mom said she was at camp but I thought she was, you know, a camper…” 

“Oh no, she was much too talented for a place like—” Mr. Du Bois stopped himself and swallowed hard. TJ had found some solace in the thought that Dayo needed a little extra help too. But if she wasn’t even a camper to begin with… 

“That’s not the point I’m aiming at.” Mr. Du Bois’ thin mustache twitched with his lip. Clearly, TJ had been putting on a sad face. “What I mean is that she helped campers get better. But those campers put in the time. So I will ask… Why haven’t you been going to any of the tutoring sessions?”

TJ shrugged. Sure, he knew the answer, but he wasn’t about to confide that in Du Bois. The man would have never accepted that he didn’t show up to any of the tutoring throughout the week because he was too embarrassed to admit how out of his element he was at Camp Olosa.

“If you cannot keep with the workload,” Du Bois went out on, “then perhaps I should tell the director you should be placed with the intermediate class… perhaps even the introductory group.”

TJ imagined himself among a huddle of six and seven-year-olds. He was already tall among his own peers. Among real kids though, small ones, he’d look like some NBA player. And how ridiculous would it be if the other campers saw him learning how to cure bean sprouts with children barely out of kindergarten? He could already hear Ayodeji’s laughter, could already see Manny’s kind but disappointed look. No, he couldn’t have that.

Clearing his throat, Du Bois glanced at his watch. “I can block off my second tutoring session for a private one if that works for you.” 

TJ couldn’t believe it. One of the main reasons he didn’t want to take on a session was because other campers would be there. The old dude really could read minds. But TJ couldn’t remember anything about diviners being able to do that. Maybe he’d ask Joshua about that later. Whatever the case, he couldn’t break face and let on that Du Bois had hit the mark. 

“Okay... sure,” TJ said, feigning a casual tone as the echo of the next set of campers came bouncing down the hall. 

“Show up on time.” Du Bois gathered the quizzes and straightened them on his immaculate desk. “I don’t give my campers many chances. If you ‘ghost’ on me, trust that I will be even harder on you for the rest of the summer. Now, get out of here.”

Manny invites TJ to play Crossover

A light tap came at TJ’s shoulder. He turned to find Manny giving him a cautious look. “You okay?”

“Yeah.” TJ tried to sound casual. “I was just daydreaming.”

“For the whole lunch period?”

TJ peered over her shoulder. There were only a few pockets of campers left, including a napping Joshua who had three empty trays in front of him.

“I had a lot on my mind, I guess...” TJ brushed past Manny and headed toward Joshua’s table. A pair of feet tapped against the wooden floor behind him. 

“Listen,” Manny said. “What do you have planned after your... lunch?”

TJ looked down to the soggy mess he concocted and groaned internally. Could the day get any worse? He slammed his plate down next to Joshua to wake him but the loud sound did nothing to stir the boy. 

“If you’re going to tell me to do some tutoring,” TJ said through an awkward mouthful of ketchup'd mashed potatoes. “I already got a lecture from DeBòis and—”

“No, no, nothing like that.” Manny held her hands tightly as though she was… no, it couldn’t be. Why would she be nervous? “We have a big game going in a little while and, well, Ayodeji is running his mouth like always and, you know, we need someone to play as a defender and I was wondering if… you’d be on my team?”

“Oh,” TJ said, dropping his fork on his plate. Suddenly he felt bad for being short with her. “Really?”

Manny fidgeted with her hands as she nodded. “If you want, of course.”

TJ chuckled despite himself.

“What?” Manny asked through a furrowed brow. “What’s so funny?”

“Nothing. I just didn’t think you’d talk to me outside of class after the whole language barrier thing.” 

Manny waved the notion away with a lazy hand as she rolled her eyes. “Oh, that? It was a good introduction. Lorenzo still jokes about it all the time.”

TJ already knew that first hand. All week between being called a Lucky Charm he was reminded routinely that Spanish and Portuguese were two distinctly different languages. Every morning was a new lesson from the boy.

“It’s sim, not sí,” he would say with a laugh. “It’s bom dia, not buenos días.”

“That sounds like fun,” TJ said. “But I promised to meet with DeBòis and I wouldn’t want to cross him.” 

This time it was Manny’s turn to laugh out of turn. “You talk funny, even for a Californian.”

“How did you know I was from California? And what’s that supposed to mean?”

Manny did her best imitation of TJ. “‘I wouldn’t want to cross him.’”

“What? That’s a perfectly valid way to describe what I wanted to say.”

“All right, whatever, nerd.” Manny nudged his shoulder but tucked her hand deep into her pockets like she shouldn’t have. “Like… I was saying. You should come play with us. Breaks are good sometimes even if you do need to study later.”

TJ wasn’t sure how to react. There weren’t too many conversations he was a part of where he wasn’t the one who was nervous. So he decided to pick up his fork up again and eat his food with utter nonchalance. “Okay, I’ll play. What’s this game, anyway?”

Manny clapped her hands together and jumped. “Oh good! The game’s Eshu’s crossover. You’ve played before, right?”

TJ dropped his fork again. He had almost forgotten he was at a camp full of diviners. Of course she wasn’t going to ask him to play a game of dodgeball or basketball. Of course she asked him to play the one sport he never played before because, well, he never had the ashe to play it before. 

Despite all that, without hesitation, he replied, “Of course. I’ll see you out there in a little bit.” 

“Dead ass?” she asked in her New York slang.

“Totally,” TJ shot back with his own Californian flavor. 

Manny beamed, shaking her fist in a small celebration before trotting out of the mess hall and into the bright summer light. 

“Josh!” TJ shouted into the boy's ear as he swung his leg over the bench. “You can have my food. I gotta go.”

Joshua woke up with a start, drool pooling from the side of his mouth. By the time he realized what was going on TJ was halfway out of the mess hall.

“Hey!” he shouted after him. “I told you ketchup on your mashed potatoes was good!”

Adeola teaches TJ how to play Eshu’s Crossover

Crossover was perhaps the most popular sport known to divinerkind, though more mature audiences would argue that the IDA—the International Dueling Association—was the true king. TJ was more familiar with the former. It was the only diviner-related activity that his father liked. While most normal father and sons might have watched the NBA or boxing together, Mr. Young and TJ looked forward to the intense magical duels fought between opponents from all over the world. 

But TJ was about to play crossover and Manny had asked for him specifically. He needed to focus and letting her down wasn’t at all an option. There was just one problem. He didn’t know the first thing about the sport, not the rules, not the strategies, and not the positions—didn’t Manny say she wanted him to play as a defender? 

I’ve never played before and this girl named Manny invited me to play on her team and I don’t want to screw up—my cousins would never let me play and Dayo was always so busy—I only have a few more minutes before I have to show up and I don’t even know—”

“You’re going to give yourself a headache,” Adeola giggled. “Listen, crossover’s hard enough to learn over a season, let alone a few minutes. What’s your position?”

“I don’t have one—well, Manny said she wanted me as a defender.”

“Perfect. That’s really easy. You’ve played capture the flag before, right?” TJ nodded. “It’s just like that. Just don’t let the attackers get to the goal. You don’t have to know much in the way of tactics as a defender. So long as you can stop the ball, you’ll be fine. Just stay back no matter what. Even if you think you can crossover.”

TJ grunted and clenched his fist. “But what does crossover even mean?”

“Just stay on your side.” Adeola put her hands to his shoulders. “And you’ll be all right, trust me.”

TJ plays his First Game of Crossover

One very sweaty run from the library to the boys’ cabin and back out later and TJ stumbled onto the crossover large field brimming with campers. Half the camp must have been there, the kids and the preteens alike, each chatting with each other in an excited fervor. A cluster of teen campers huddled at the field’s center which was marked by glowing white chalk, not unlike a soccer field, except there was only one dividing line through the center of the manicured lawn and one large rectangle surrounding it. At either end stood two wooden totem-looking objects, each with two faces with large, gaping mouths. TJ remembered these were actually goal posts. When his cousins played, they threw a ball at the lower mouth just for it to pop back out of the higher one. Of course, he couldn’t remember why, but if Adeola was right about defenders being an easy position, he didn’t have to. As a defender he probably only needed to defend them.

“TJ!” Joshua shouted, waddling over from the group of teenagers, looking like a hippo stomping through a savannah. “Hey, man. I didn’t know you were going to play today. Where were you?” Even though he rarely shouted, the boy’s voice always had a way of carrying across any area. 

TJ gestured his hand for Joshua to keep it down as he leaned into a whisper. “I was at the library learning pointers about the game.” 

“Dude! You could have asked me. I know everything about the sport.” Joshua looked TJ up and down. “What are those?” 

TJ lifted the cleat strapped around his foot. He figured before coming he should dress the part. The baseball bag under his bunk didn’t just have a staff that wasn’t allowed but actual active wear and equipment.

“Oh, I just thought since we’d be on the grass and such I’d wear something so I wouldn’t slip.” 

Joshua pursed his lips. “Cleats… Never heard of them.”

“Really?” TJ raised an eyebrow. Sure, cleats were probably a bit much for a camp game but they weren’t uncommon either. Maybe wherever Joshua was from didn’t have them. In fact, TJ wasn’t sure where Joshua lived. He assumed somewhere from the Midwest, some small state like Indiana or South Dakota. Small things that were commonplace to TJ surprised the boy. But cleats? Even the Midwest had football.   

 “Is that TJ?” Manny asked in a shout from the center of the group

“Yeah, yeah, he’s here.” Joshua pointed, his finger jabbing like a woodpecker in TJ’s direction as if no one could see him. 

“Well, get his bony-butt over here,” Ayodeji said, standing next to Manny with crossed arms. “We gotta pick teams.”

Joshua and TJ walked over to the center of the field where everyone lined up ready to be picked. A familiar heat tickled at the back of TJ’s neck as he thought, another schoolyard pick. Only this time they were in the middle of a swamp. Worst yet, Ayodeji had the first pick. 

TJ had zero expectations of getting picked first or even high on any team’s list, Manny or Ayodeji’s. The best he could hope for was that, like with basketball, he’d be a decent team player. Plus, Manny said something about him playing defense for her team. She must have also known he wouldn’t get picked early or at all. 

Ayodeji scanned from left to right, pressing his hand into his chin in feigned thought. Everyone knew he’d picked Jimoh or Levant, it was just a matter of he favored speed or strength more in this game. From the few times TJ saw the game played it seemed like speed was important than anything else.

“All right, TJ, get over here,” Ayodeji finally said.

TJ had looked over his shoulder twice to make sure there wasn’t another kid with his name walking over to Ayodeji. “Me?”

“Yeah, you.”

TJ turned to Manny who looked just as surprised as he was. Maybe Ayodeji caught wind of TJ being some lucky charm from Lorenzo and wanted to swipe him up first. That couldn’t be it. Even if Lorenzo said something like that to Ayodeji the boy would have never picked TJ. But as he stood there impatiently tapping his foot, there was nothing TJ could do but believe. He took a cautious step forward.

“Sike!” Ayodeji jeered. “I actually want to win the game. Sit your goofy-ass on the sidelines with them shoes.” 

A few of the campers laughed as Ayodeji chose Jimoh as his first pick. TJ stood there expressionless. He was over it. It didn’t even matter if he got mad and he didn’t want to be on Ayodeji’s team to begin with. 

“TJ.” Manny pointed straight at him. “You’re on my team.”

She’s picking me first? 

“Oh!” Jimoh exclaimed, stretching out the end of his word longer than he needed to go. “Manny, that’s your man now or something?”

Manny flipped him off as he continued to chuckle. TJ’s body stiffened with an uncomfortable strain. He didn’t dare look Manny’s way. She’d only give him one of two stares, one of utter disgust, confirming her disinterest in him, or one of bashful embarrassment, indicating a genuine interest he’d rather not confront in front of half the camp. So instead he cast his eyes to Ayodeji who, to his surprise, wasn’t laughing. In fact, he kept staring at Manny as though he were assessing her reaction. And he didn’t even break the stare until Jimoh smacked him across his chest to pick their next teammate who ended up being LeVant. Big surprise. 

What had that look meant? TJ assumed Ayodeji hated the girl who almost always outshone him time and time again without even trying. Their group project in Bolawe’s class was example enough.

TJ leaned in close to Manny. “Thanks, but you didn’t have to do that for me. You should have picked someone else.”

For the first time TJ looked at her full on. She didn’t look ashamed nor did she looked embarrassed, just a friendly face, the same she always had when she spoke with him. “I wanted to. And good idea with the cleats. I always forget to bring mine to camp.”

***

[They play the game. We learn the game with TJ as it progresses: first as a defender, but then he’s forced to go on the offense when he was told to stay back. Gameplay commences as TJ fumbles his way through the mechanics of the game, which he likens to something between Ultimate Frisbee and Capture the Flag with a magical ball the size of a small dodgeball].

TJ couldn’t stay back and do nothing. For the whole game it was like he was invisible. If he just ran forward and called for the ball maybe their defenders would be too busy watching Manny and Lorenzo weaving in and out with the air-steps.  But if he left his position than someone from Ayodeji’s team could crossover and win the game. 

TJ watched as Manny flipped over Ayodeji as she passed the ball to Lorenzo. Lorenzo went for the halfway line again but Levant kept blocking him with his wide torso and tree-trunk arms. There wasn’t time to think.

Digging his cleats into the grass, TJ pelted forward with his arm in the air. “Lorenzo!” he shouted. The boy peered between Levant’s arms but didn’t have a clear shot.

“Give it here!” Manny flung into a high jump, air-stepping three times into the air. Lorenzo threw the ball up to her, matching the height of her last stride. TJ stood ready, he knew what was coming. She got as high as she could so she could throw the ball at him clean over everyone else’s head. As soon as she caught the ball she pushed it forward toward TJ on the other side of their field. 

“Stop the ball! Stop it!” Ayodeji shouted. But Jimoh was too late to jump as he bounced into the air, just missing the bottom of the ball as it spun towards TJ. That was it. There was no other defense. All TJ had to do was catch it and it would be game over. 

Come on. Please, catch it. Please catch it.

TJ lifted his arms, ready for the ball. It all counted on him. What did his dad say about catching footballs? Hands out with fingers pointed like a triangle with thumbs in and facing each other. As soon as the ball hit his hands he needed to secure and tuck. Secure, tuck… and win.

The ball came at him in slow motion, so clear he could almost count each bump against its rubber hide. When it hit his hands it bounced off for a moment and his heart beat hard against his chest. Catching his breath, he reached for the ball again as it arced toward the grass. He dove for the ball before it hit the ground and snatched it out of the air. A huge and liberating breath left his lungs as he gripped, secured, and tucked. He won the game. He won the game. Not someone else, not some stay player, not the best—

A hard impact came at TJ’s side, a harsh thud coming with it. Someone had their arms wrapped around his middle, throwing him sidelong against the grass in a tackle. When they hit the ground TJ’s head jerked violently against the grass and dirt and he felt the ball slipped from his hands. Just above him stood Ayodeji.

“You cheater!” Lorenzo shouted at Ayodeji.

“He had the ball clean,” Manny added.

TJ’s vision was too faded to see them. Black and red spots threatened to take conscious thought. A warm stream came from his mouth and he could only assume it was blood. 

“TJ, you all right?” A pair of thick hands pulled him from his armpits. “It’s Joshua. Say something, man. Anything.”

TJ mumbled through his throbbing lip as he leaned against his friend’s shoulder. Levant and Jimoh helped Ayodeji as well. The boy looked a lot better off though the side of his head had a cut near the brow. 

“What’s that?” Joshua asked as TJ continued to jab.

“S’foul,” TJ kept saying.

“Huh?”

“That’s a foul,” TJ slurred to Ayodeji, heat rising in his belly. “No contact.”

Ayodeji waved a hand and sucked his teeth as he pressed his hand into his hip with a wince. “You don’t know what you’re talking about.”

“There’s no contact,” TJ said louder. He tried his best to stand on his own but his head was still dizzy. “Those are the rules, you know that.”

Ayodeji took a step forward, followed close by his cronies. “Don’t tell me what I know. You don’t know shit. You shouldn’t be at this camp to begin with.” Manny, Lorenzo, and the Santos sisters came to TJ’s sides to help him from collapsing on himself. Ayodeji spat on the grass. “He doesn’t deserve to be here. He can barely do any magic.” 

“And you can’t take an L,” TJ shot back.

“At least I’m not here on a pity ride because my sister went and got herself killed.”

And with that, TJ forgot about his weariness, forgot about the blood pooling from his mouth, forgot about the ringing in his ears. All that mattered now was doing as much harm to Ayodeji as he could. TJ pulled back his hand and flung it out with as much ashe as he could muster. From the tip of his fingers a tiny gust shot forth and thumped against Ayodeji’s chest, hurling the boy back into a backward spin that sent him head under heels. Even the trees near them pushed out against the manifested wind and the campers with long hair blew back like they were hit with a leaf blower. 

All energy drained from TJ’s body as Ayodeji bolted up from ground, the boy’s braids top knot braids coming undone. “Okay, so you want to play like that, then?” He cracked his knuckles and stepped forward though TJ could tell he was shaken up. He was just protecting his pride at this point. 

“Damn, TJ...” Joshua said. “I didn’t know you could do that.” 

“Come on.” Ayodeji gestured TJ forward. “Try that again, ode buruku.” TJ didn’t have to understand to know that was in insult. 

“That’s enough.” Manny stepped between them. “Both of you.”

“Nah, let ‘em go,” Lorenzo said. “Sometimes you just gotta let it happen.”

“Lorenzo,” Manny said to him with the tone of a mother.

TJ limped forward and pushed his way past the both of them. “He talked about my sister. And some needs to teach him a lesson.”

“You already did that.” Manny’s eyes pleaded with him to stop. TJ halted his steps and gazed at her. She was right. He didn’t need to keep fighting. His point was made. But just as he turned to Ayodeji to call the fight off he felt an invisible force wrap around his and fling him around like a loop on a rollercoaster. His spin ended in a hard blow against the ground, his back landing on hard earth. He lifted his hands to defend against the next gust of wind but he was too exhausted, too inexperienced to even know how to counter it. Like Ayodeji before he flew back but instead of landing in the dirt his head smacked against a tree. A third blow came for him, a huge gust that brought leafs with it in its wake like a whip. It came down fast and sharp, aimed to slap across his chest. 

“I said no!” Manny shouted as she outstretched her arms against a protective orb that shielded against Ayodeji’s attack. 

The crowd stood silent, each camper looking between the other and back to the fight. 

“Come on, let’s get out of here,” Ayodeji said to his team. He wiped the blood from his brow and looked at it in disgust. “TJ needs his girl to fight his battles for him.” 

With the show over, the campers broke off into their next activities speaking in low tones and whispered hisses. TJ gave scowls to any of them that stared too long or pointed. He tried to block them out but everytime he heard one of them say something about how he lost it stung more than he thought it would. 

“That was a good first blow,” Joshua was saying. “But you gotta be trickier. Through a few feints or two, you know?” 

“Joshua not right now,” TJ seethed.

“I’m just saying, you could have had him if—”

“Not right now!”

Joshua clamped his mouth shut as Manny and the rest of the team huddled around TJ. 

“Are you okay?” Manny asked.

“Just leave me alone,” TJ strained through his bruised ribs.

“Well…” Her sad eyes travelled along his bruises. He hated the way she looked so sorry for him. He never wanted her to see him like this. Camp was supposed to be different. Things were supposed to change for the better. It was all the same, just like back at school, but now with a little magic thrown in.  “Well… let me try something. We can get you back to—”

TJ grimaced as he forced himself to his feet. He couldn’t look her in the eye. “I’m okay. Just leave me alone.” He turned down the path leading back to the boys’ cabin. Joshua tried to give him support again but TJ pushed him away. “I said I got it.”

“Come on, Manny,” one of the Santos sisters said. “Give him some space. It’s better if you leave him alone.” 

TJ didn’t know exactly how long it took for him to limp his way to the boys’ cabin but when he got there he stumbled to the bathroom to clean his face. The water ran thick with blood that seemed to keep coming and coming. He almost didn’t recognize his reflection in the bathroom mirror. Half his face was swelling like a grapefruit and the cut on his lip ran from the inside of his mouth and midway down his chin.  He tried to remember the healing spell his mother kept telling him to commit to memory but it just wouldn’t come. Even if he did, he didn’t think he had the strength to make it happen. And even if he did have the strength he was more likely to screw it all up. Maybe this was it. He just wasn’t cut out for all this stuff.

A buzzing came to his ear, rumbling to his right like the electric lantern outside, and with it, a familiar brush against his neck.

[Beat of him freaking out before he considers that it might be Dayo again]. 

“Who is that?” TJ spun, screaming at nothing but empty bunks. “Dayo is that you? Can you hear me?” His speech was broken up through lumps of snot. “I can’t do this. I can’t be like you. I never could.”

The buzzing persisted, rolling out into a low drone. It didn’t sound like a typical buzz in his ear. It sounded more like it was coming from the middle of the cabin. Tip-toeing against squeaky floorboards, TJ edged closer to the sound that grew louder and louder until finally he settled his weight in front of his bunk.

The buzzing stopped.

TJ knelt down and squinted his eyes to the dark shadow under his bed. The baseball bag he hid there seemed to glow a subtle hue of red. TJ reached out and dragged it toward him. Then he unzipped the bag to reveal his sister’s staff, its red crystal shining bright. 

“Dayo, is that you?” TJ asked it. “Dayo, can you hear me? Just give me a sign. Anything.” The crystal began to pulse at the same rhythm of a heartbeat, his heartbeat. TJ ran his hand down its shaft and a whisper came to his ears, distant and otherworldly. It had to be Dayo. But he had no way of communicating with her, except… he did. “Hang on, Dayo. I have an idea.”

Lunchtime Fight with Manny

The mess hall was supposed to be a place where a kid could relax, have some apple juice, or scarf down some chips. Lunchtime was meant to be carefree, thirty-minutes of no adults, no instruction, and no stress. It was exactly what TJ needed just then. Yet he felt miserable. 

Legs quivering atop the wooden floor, he stared at the large seventy-five written next to his name on the large chalkboard over the chow line. 

The tray of food in his hands looked like it had been placed by a toddler. He had paid no mind to the ketchup he squirted over his mashed potatoes or the Italian dressing he had poured over his double-fudge brownies. 

He couldn’t help it, not with that seventy-five ranking taunting him from above.

While the rest of the campers enjoyed their lunches and chit-chatted about what they’d do during their free time over the weekend, TJ stood transfixed at yet another living statue writing down the week’s grading scale. Unlike Mr. Du Bois’ statue, this one had hands that were too long for its body, tall enough to reach high along the fifty-foot black board that hung above the lunch line. 

For the whole week the board was empty, and TJ had wondered what it was there for. But the moment the statue—which had stood in the corner like decoration—came to life and started writing on the board with chalk, the whole camp had gathered around to see where they ranked. All the other teens rated in the top forty and had long gone to their benches to finish their meals. TJ had stood there for several minutes wondering if his parents registered him in the camp at all until the statue chalked: SEVENTY-FIVE. T. YOUNG on the board just under SEVENTY-FOUR. Z. BRISKER, a seven-year-old.

Do they really have to put the ages next to the names?

It was one thing to sort of know you were the worst in your class, but to see it in large print for all to see was a different thing entirely. The closest teen to TJ, Marie Wilson, was at the thirty-eight position on the list—a whole thirty-seven position gap between him and her. At this rate, he’d be lucky to overtake the pre-teen group which huddled around the middle of the pack. 

After a few minutes the statue finished off the last name, Bolaji Olaloye, who ranked ninety-third. What would his mother say when she found out? A sick acid burned down TJ’s chest at the thought. This was worse than getting a C in algebra. This stuff should have come easy. He was learning magic tricks for crying out loud. 

A light tap came at TJ’s shoulder. He turned to find Manny giving him a cautious look. “You okay?”

“Yeah.” TJ tried to sound casual. “I was just daydreaming.”

“For the whole lunch period?”

TJ peered over her shoulder. There were only a few pockets of campers left, including a napping Joshua who had three empty trays in front of him.

“I had a lot on my mind, I guess...” TJ brushed past Manny and headed toward Joshua’s table. A pair of feet tapped against the wooden floor behind him. 

“Listen,” Manny said. “What do you have planned after your... lunch?”

TJ looked down to the soggy mess he concocted and groaned internally. Could the day get any worse? He slammed his plate down next to Joshua to wake him but the loud sound did nothing to stir the boy. 

“If you’re going to tell me to do some tutoring,” TJ said through an awkward mouthful of ketchup'd mashed potatoes. “I already got a lecture from Mr. Du Bois and Mr. Bolawe—”

“No, no, nothing like that.” Manny held her hands tightly as though she was… no, it couldn’t be. Why would she be nervous? “We have a big game going in a little while and, well, Ayodeji is still running his mouth like always and, you know, we need someone to play as a defender and I was wondering if…” Her voice went so low, it was barely above a whisper.  “You’d be on my team?”

“Oh,” TJ said, dropping his fork on his plate. Suddenly he felt bad for being short with her. “Really?”

Manny fidgeted with her hands as she nodded. “If you want to, of course.”

“Uh… yeah. That sounds like fun,” TJ said. “But I promised to meet with Mr. Du Bois and I wouldn’t want to cross him.” 

This time it was Manny’s turn to laugh out of turn. “You talk funny, even for a Californian.”

“How did you know I was from California? And what’s that supposed to mean?”

Manny did her best imitation of TJ. “‘I wouldn’t want to cross him.’”

“What?” He tugged on his dashiki collar playfully. “That’s a perfectly valid method to illustrate what I wanted to communicate.”

“Yeah, yeah, whatever, nerd.” Manny nudged his shoulder.

TJ put on his best New Yorker’s accent and feigned a hurt shoulder. “Oim sorry, Manny. ‘Ey everyone look out, she’s walkin’ ‘ere!” It wasn’t his best work.

“Hah, good one, Teej!” Lorenzo snickered from two tables over. “Not as good as your Spanish, but still a good one.” There was no wonder the kid was in good spirits, he was top five on the standings.   

Manny rolled her eyes, smiling. She nudged TJ again, fidgeting with her hands deep in her pockets. “Like I was saying... You should come play with us. Breaks are good sometimes, even if you do need to study later.” 

TJ wasn’t sure how to react. There weren’t too many conversations he was a part of where he wasn’t the one who was nervous. So he decided to pick up his fork and eat his food with utter nonchalance. “Okay, I’ll play. What’s this game, anyway?” 

Manny clapped her hands together and jumped. “Oh good! The game’s Eshu’s crossover.” Joshua lifted his head at that. “You’ve played before, right?”

TJ dropped his fork again. He had almost forgotten he was at a camp full of diviners. Of course she wasn’t going to ask him to play a game of dodgeball or basketball. Of course she asked him to play the one sport he never played before because, well, he never had the Ashe to play it before. 

Despite all that, and without hesitation, he replied, “Of course. I’ll see you out there in a little bit.” 

“Dead ass?” she asked in her New York slang.

“Totally,” TJ shot back with his own Californian flavor. He chuckled despite himself.

“What?” Manny asked through a furrowed brow. “What’s so funny?”

“Nothing. I just didn’t think you’d talk to me after what happened in Mr. Bolawe’s.”

“Huh?” Manny questioned. “Why wouldn’t I talk to you?”

“I got my ass kicked. I couldn’t even defend myself when it counted.”

“That was a good first blow you had,” Joshua said through a snore. “But you gotta be trickier. Throw a few feints or two, you know?” 

“Joshua, not right now.” The topic of him getting beat down was the last thing he wanted brought up in front of Manny. 

Joshua lifted his head up in a droop. “I’m just saying, you could have had him if—”

“Shut up, man!” 

Joshua clamped his mouth shut as Manny looked between them uncomfortably. “Hey,” she said, “don’t sell yourself short. You knocked him back pretty good.”

“And then you had to come rescue me,” TJ mumbled.

“Ah, come on. It wasn’t like that. I just didn’t want you in trouble.”

“Sure.” 

Manny made a face at him, but TJ didn’t seem to care. “Maybe I should find someone else to be on the team then. We don’t like pity parties when we lose.”

TJ didn’t think before he said his next words. If he did, he would have never said it. If he did, he might have realised that Manny was joking, not mocking. 

“Maybe you should...”

Manny swallowed hard and her lips parted slightly in shock. She was just as surprised as TJ was apparently. “Really, dude?”

Maybe it was something in her tone, or maybe TJ’s pride had been too wounded to think rationally in that moment. “Yeah… really.”

“Fine then... I will.” 

“Cool.” TJ shrugged. 

Manny crossed her arms. “Perfect.” 

“Awesome.” 

“Ugh!” Manny stomped off and out of the mess hall, her hair bouncing with her. 

Heat tingled across TJ’s face. The end of his conversation with Manny ended so quickly. He didn’t mean to come off so confrontational but everything was coming at him at once that day. Fighting with Ayodeji was one thing. Even the rankings he half-expected. Getting into fights with Mr. Bolawe and then Manny? That was something else. And now he was feeling sick.  

“Oof, that’s rough, dude.” Joshua sucked his teeth. “When she first got here, I admit, I didn’t see that conversation turning like that.”

TJ didn’t have a response. No rebuttal. What could he even say? He was completely in the wrong and he was driving everyone away. He slumped on the bench next to Joshua.

“Hey!” the boy patted him on the back. “I told you ketchup on your mashed potatoes was good!”

Joshua could have been talking to a wall. Or perhaps a sledge hammer was a more apt description, as TJ started slamming his head onto the table. 

“You feel better?” Joshua asked.

TJ stopped and implanted his head onto the table like a magnet drew him there. “Marginally.”

“Look, man.” Joshua pulled out the brass bangle from his pocket. “I was gonna use it for myself, but I swiped this from Bolawe… Here, take it.” He slid the metal along the table. “Maybe this will help you next week, or for whatever else you might need it for.”

TJ rolled his head along his arm to peer at the brass. “Nah, man. That’s yours. I’ll just go to Mr. Du Bois’ tutoring or something. He’ll have a field day chewing me out.”

Joshua took the bangle and stuffed it into TJ’s dashiki pocket. “Look, dude. I heard what you were screaming in class. If the bangle can help you with…” He looked over his shoulders then murmured, “Your sister. I’d be a jerk not to give it you, you know? Plus, what are friends for?”

TJ sighed but he accepted Joshua’s gift. “I appreciate it, man. Really.”

“Don’t mention it.” Joshua gave him a little shove. “Now go find out if that was your sister talking to you or not.”

Joshua offers to Pay

Joshua’s face relaxed. “Oh, is that it? That’s what been eating at you? I have tons of money.”

“You mean your parents have tons of money,” TJ said as they walked into the afternoon sun toward their next session.

“Same difference. I can get you what you need, man. No problem.”

“I’m sure your parents wouldn’t give a kid they barely know several grand to attend some summer camp.”

Joshua skipped and hopped in front of TJ like there was no problem at all. “You don’t know how persuasive I can be.”

“The answer’s no, Josh.” TJ frowned, pushing past him. “I can’t take your money. Besides, my parents would need to talk to you and it would take more than a few days to convince them to take money from your family. Plus, Mr. Du Bois might be right. I’m taking up space for another diviner kid who actually deserves to be here.”

“Then take my place. This place is a drag anyway.”

TJ looked at Joshua like he had grown a second head. “You’re insane, dude.”

Parental Prison

TJ, Manny, and Ayo darted through the last of the graveyard so quickly, that TJ hoped there wasn’t a police system in the planes, because they would definitely be breaking speed limits.. Yewa made it very clear that Eshu and the Keepers had just enough power to free Olokun. TJ tried to calculate how much time it had been since Eshu dived into the portal and how long it would take for them to catch-up. Yewa couldn’t give them an exact figure, but TJ reckoned Eshu had broken at least half of Olokun’s binds by now.  

“You know, maybe it’s not so bad if Olokun is free,” Ayo said as they rushed over an open area of sea kelp fields. “I mean, that’s kind of messed up being locked down there that long.”

“He deserved to be set there,” Manny shot back. “He tried to drown humanity with the ocean! He’ll just try it again like before.”

Ayo did a backstroke and a shrug. “Maybe he’s changed his ways. That’s what jail is supposed to be for, right? To rethink your wrongs?”

“Or to let your hate fester,” TJ replied. “Most dudes who come out of jail don’t come out rehabilitated. They just fall back into what they was doing before. Or worse. I got an uncle like that. You know, the kind of uncle you don’t talk about.”

“And if Olokun’s been alone all this time,” Manny added, “he won’t be in no good mood.”

“All right, all right, forget I said anything, just trying to be an optimist here.”

“Ayodeji, an optimist?” TJ cracked his first smile since they got there. “Man, you’ve been hanging out with us too much. Next thing you know you’ll—”

TJ's last words were cut off by his own yelp. From the field of kelp, sprang a giant hand. TJ tried to avoid its open palm, but even with his greater speed he couldn’t avoid the large grip. Two fingers pinched around his zip-up hoodie and brought him down into the kelp. TJ attempted to shake his hoodie off and swim free, but a second giant hand clenched around his entire body.

“Let him go!” TJ heard Manny shout.

TJ tried to shout too, but the enormous hand completely covered his mouth.  As he brushed his lips against it, he felt the slippery surface of scales, the grooves of one of them uplifted every time he tried to speak or shout. 

Ayo was next to call out. “We’re friendly! We’re friends of Olosa and Yewa and Eshu… kinda.”

Everything was dark as the creature tugged TJ along. He wiggled his shoulders and kicked his legs, but he wasn’t about to move. Then he remembered he didn’t need his arms or legs; he was a diviner, after all!

“Gbe omi lọ,” he mumbled under tight lips.

Water expanded from his chest and rushed against the hand holding him. He poured all his Ashe into the effort as the manifested bubble around him ballooned so much the creature’s huge grip couldn’t hold any longer. TJ tumbled head over heel through the water current as he catapulted free of the compressed hold. It took him a moment to re-center himself; it took him another to make sense of the colossal mermaid before him.

Floating above the sway of the kelp field was none other than Yemoja, the Mother of the Oceans. A crown plastered with seashells, starfish, and clams surrounded her head. Her hair was long and matted with tiny beads, bells, and coral embedded in each lock of hair, which covered her bare chest. The beaded necklace that fell from her neck hung low near her belly where the beginning of a huge tail fin brushed against the tallest of the kelp below. 

She was beautiful, dazzling in the way she drifted and moved, like a queen letting her presence be known in a room full of peasants.    

TJ felt like he should have bowed. Instead, he did an awkward half nod and said, “We’re after Eshu and the others. They’re breaking Olokun’s chains.”

“What is your name, young mortal?” Yemoja asked with a nurturing voice, ignoring TJ’s words.

“Um…” TJ trailed off. Ayo and Manny, who were glancing around Yemoja’s back, gave him wide-eyes and a pair of shrugs. “My name is TJ—erm—Tomori Jomiloju. Why?”

Yemoja considered him for a while, scanning him up and down—or at least it seemed that way. It was hard to tell with those pupil-less eyes. She didn’t examine TJ with malice or apprehension, though. It was more like a curiosity. A look TJ might get from his mother or father. 

Then, she rushed for him, her face only inches from his own. TJ’s entire body was as big as her head. 

“How could a young mortal as yourself break my hold?” Again, her question was inquisitive, not harsh. 

“Olosa’s messenger, this giant alligator we call Ol’ Sally said—”

Yemoja blinked, but instead of her lids falling horizontally and rising again, they shifted vertically. “You are… familiar. Have we been acquainted?” 

“No...” TJ shook his head subtly, nervously. “I don’t think so.” He didn’t want to make any sudden movements. “Until today, I’ve never met an Orisha before. Well, there was my friend Josh, but that’s a whole other thing. And then we just got done talking to Yewa. Maybe you’ve met my sister before? She’s pretty famous. Ifedayo Young.”

“I do not know any Ifedayo Youngs.” TJ wished Yemoja would exercise some personal space. He barely had room to breathe. “You say you’re after Olokun? Are you the children of the other mortals?”

“No, no. Two of them are our camp counselors and one is—well—was a friend of mine. Can you tell us where they went? Ol’ Sally told us to find the Great Rift and the Endless Darkness. Olokun is about to be set free.”

At the naming of “Olokun,” Yemoja’s bright eyes shot wide, and she swooped TJ up in her iron grip once more. Before TJ could get a word out, before he could even understand what was going on, they were hurtling through the ocean and back toward the ship graveyard.

“You are too important,” she said, waves of water whipping past them. “You are strong, but you are young. I must protect you, you must be brought back to your world.”

“I know! I know.” TJ struggled. “I’m a key or something. Eshu needed me to trap Olosa in his staff.”

“No, child. You are more than a key. You have the power of Ashe itself. It’s not a power I’ve sensed in several centuries.”

“What are you talking about?” TJ pushed against her. Her hold didn’t budge an inch. He called on his Ashe again. “Gbe omi lọ,” he chanted, yet this time his bubble remained in his chest.

“I told you, young one. You are powerful but inexperienced. You cannot face the wrath of Olokun. There still might be time before he’s freed and comes after you. You cannot stay.”

TJ grunted against her scaly constraints. “I can’t just leave. Someone I care about is in danger. Mr. Bolawe. He needs our help!”

“Leave him alone!” Manny called out disantly behind them. “Let him go!”

TJ couldn’t see her, but he knew she and Ayo were probably giving chase. Glancing back up at Yemoja, TJ thought back to what Yewa said about convincing Orisha instead of trying to contend with them outright. He might not have been able to force his way out of his situation. Talking his way out, though? That he could try.

“We have to do this, Yemoja—uh—Great Mother!” 

Still rushing forward, she replied, “Didn’t your sister die doing all of this?”

TJ raised an eyebrow. “How did you?—I thought you didn’t know Ifedayo?”

“I can channel your parents’ energy, their thoughts, and memories via your own. Your father wouldn’t want you risking your life as your sister did, correct? And your mother wouldn’t survive another of her children perishing.”

“I have to do this.” TJ wiggled to see through her giant fingers. “You can’t protect me forever. They can’t protect me forever. I know you all don’t want me to end up like Dayo, but I have to do this… Mr. Bolawe failed to save Dayo like he wanted to, but I won’t fail to save him. I owe that to him.”

“And he’ll have us!” Manny said. TJ hadn’t even noticed that Yemoja had slowed her swim, which allowed his friends to catch up.

“Yeah, we’ll watch his back,” Ayo parroted at Manny’s side.

TJ twisted his head back up to Yemoja with what he hoped were soft and gentle eyes. “Trust me, I can do this. We can do this.”

Yemoja’s lips were a thin line. TJ knew she was reconsidering taking him back. Yewa was right, all he needed to do was use his words. 

“You think you can sway the Great Mother with your mortal attempts at guilt?” She shook her head. “You children are dealing with conditions well beyond your understanding. Listen to Mother. She will shield you from harm.”

Okay, TJ could admit Yewa was dead wrong. 

Their words weren’t going to do a damn thing in this situation. Craning his head over Yemoja’s hand, TJ surveyed the surface below. They weren’t yet back at the graveyard of ships, but collections of anchors, chains, and nets scattered the rocky ocean floor. An idea struck TJ then. There were enough chains linked to anchors for it to work. But with Yemoja locking him up and suppressing his water charms, he couldn’t do it by himself.

“Have you ever heard of Eshu’s crossover?” TJ asked Yemoja loudly. He made sure Manny and Ayo caught his eye.  

Yemoja scoffed but answered, “A silly game. A waste of time.”

“Well, my friend Manny is one of the best crossover players this side of the Orisha plane, I expect.” TJ shifted his gaze to the anchors and chains below. Would his look be enough? Would Manny understand where he was going with this? “Is it okay if I explain the rules to you?”

Yemoja groaned.

“It’s simple really. It’s like ultimate frisbee and capture the flag. You know those, right?” Yemoja didn’t answer. TJ leaned his head, making sure each of his words were loud and clear for his friends. “Well, first you have to score by getting this little ball through the goal. Then another ball shoots up from this totem-pole looking thing, and you have to get that ball back to your team’s side of the field. Then you score a point! Isn’t that right, Manny?”

“Right!” Manny swam to a fallen net to their right, but TJ was edging his eyes to the chained anchor to the left. “Oh, left!” She blushed. “Right! I mean, left is right. Not right is right—”

“We get it!” Ayo shouted. “Just do it already.” 

A chained anchor hurtled through the water, catching and wrapping around Yemoja’s tailfin and forcing her into the seafloor. As she and TJ hit the rocky ground, TJ tried to wiggle free, but Yemoja’s grip had only tightened instead of loosened. 

“Keep it up!” he called out. “That won’t hold her for long!”

“A boost would be nice,” Ayo called back.

“Oh, right.” TJ delved into his Ashe again, felt for it like coins in a fountain. He let it swell from the pit of his stomach and out through his fingertips where his energy snaked away toward Ayo.

“Foolish mortal children,” Yemoja seethed. Her eyes glowed brightly, and the chain around her tailfin unraveled. “You will accomplish nothing. You must listen to Mother.”

Manny and Ayo didn’t listen to her. As though playing monkey in the middle, they flung chained anchors to one another through water magic. To any crossover fanatic, their movements were a perfect offensive push across the center line, with an Orisha playing as the center.

“It’s just like [cross over move/gatekeeper move],” Manny told Ayo as she threw him another chain.

Ayo caught it in a water bubble and replied, “Yeah, only now instead of Stephen covering the middle plane, it’s a big-ass Orisha instead. No sweat.”

Each time Yemoja got rid of one chain around her tailfin, two more would wrap around her arms. Each time she freed her arms, three more chains embraced her torso. Yemoja could suppress TJ’s own magic, but she couldn’t do anything about him being a beacon for his friends. 

“Guys, the rift. Lead us to the rift.”

Manny gave him an a-okay sign and the game continued to the deep rift past the field of kelp. 

“What is this Ashe?” Yemoja demanded an answer.

TJ gave it to her. “You’ve never met a mortal like me.”

With her attention split between Manny and Ayo who darted around her head like gnats, TJ manifested another bubble at his chest and commanded it to push out. It was the toughest action he took since coming into the Orishas’ realm. Though Yemoja’s grip had loosened, she was binding him with more than physical force, TJ could feel it. But he pressed against her with all his might. He knew he was just on the edge of freedom. 

But Yemoja just... Wouldn’t. Let. Go.

THUNG!

The latest thrown anchor came just across Yemoja’s head, cracking her seashell crown. Though Yemoja had managed her bearings during Manny and Ayo’s assault, the impact had finally sent her tumbling into the seafloor sands in a gust that plumed like a mushroom cloud. As she fell, her body slumped over the gap in the rift and she tumbled far below. 

And finally, TJ was free of her hold. 

“Oof.” Ayo tensed his neck and shoulders. “That one hurt for sure.”

Exhaustion deflated his arms and legs. He could barely keep himself afloat. His Ashe boosting diminished with the fatigue running through him. Good thing Yemoja was done for… at least he thought. 

From within the cloud, a ripple sprang out and caught Ayo right in the middle. TJ could hear the breath being forced out the boy’s mouth as he tumbled away into a reef. Yemoja sprang forth with chains and anchors weighing her down, thrashing against them as they tried to swallow her back into the rift. But something caught her far below. She only managed a few feet from the rift as she outstretched her hand. Then, as though she called forth all the ocean’s sea creatures to her side, the fit spat out a dozen sharks, a school of anglerfish, and countless octopuses.   

“Manny, I can’t boost you anymore. I’m too tired. You got to knock her out again.”

“I… I can’t. There’s too many. What if I screw it up?”

“Then we get taken by Yemoja,” TJ said sheepishly. “It’s better not having a choice, right? Just do it! It’s just like crossover… just a lot more defenders.”

TJ could only imagine how hard Manny’s heart was beating. But she was doing a good job of putting on a strong face as she clenched her fists. Where before worry was laced through her eyes, now there was only determined resolve. 

Manny pelted forward, dipping between the jaws of a shark and the tentacle of an octopus. As she rushed along, she gathered chain after chain with water charms in a micro-torrent. She spread her fingers wide and the chains shot forth, giving her the eerie appearance of an octopus herself. 

Ayo struggled to TJ’s side, rubbing his head with a grunt. “Well, shoot… I knew Manny could move fast, but not fast like that.” 

“Yeah, she’s kind of the best.”

Each time Manny slithered past an anglerfish, she called a new set of chains to her side to entangle them in a fresh trap. Yemoja’s anguished cry came so loud, it nearly cracked the rift’s rocky surface. As Manny wrapped new chains around the Orisha, Yemoja flailed, failing to grasp her every time. Manny’s movements seemed impossible, only avoiding the colossal grip of Yemoja by inches.

“She needs to watch herself,” Ayo gasped, still nursing his head. “Yemoja nearly got her there.”

“No, she’s doing it perfectly.” TJ said. “If she dodges too quickly, Yemoja will just swipe her up. She’s timing it so that won’t happen.”

“That’s a scary-ass game to play…”

 Just at TJ felt his Ashe renew in his belly, Manny had already committed to her final strike as she held her hands aloft and tow anchors floated over her head. She gave Yemoja one final, innocent look before saying, “Sorry!” And she let the anchors fall to crack the remainder of Yemoja’s crown.

Like before, Yemoja tumbled deep into the rift with a scream that never seemed to end. Her sea creatures followed her deep below.

“I can’t believe I did that.” Manny stared down at her hands. “We better go now… she’s not going to be happy when she comes back up.”

Olokun Fight

“To your right,” Eshu shouted as TJ careened just under the zip of an overhead splinter. 

TJ righted himself and dived through the gap of an elevated banister leading to a courtyard. 

“Good work!” Eshu congratulated. “Way to keep to where he can’t get you. That’s why I always stay small.”

“Yeah, great, I’m alive for a little while.” TJ barrel rolled away from a thrown pillar from behind. “But I can’t keep this up forever. Eventually, he’ll tag me. So I’ll ask you again… what’s the plan, Mastermind?”

“First. You are going to hold this.” Eshu handed TJ his staff. “Then I am going to fuse with my staff, and we’re going to put Olokun back on a timeout. Oh,” he sighed, “here I thought he’d have a better attitude after all this time.” 

“Wait? What? Fuse?” TJ ducked under another blast. 

Eshu pushed TJ aside just before a statue arm nearly smacked him across the cheek. “Yes. Fuse. Olokun is weak from centuries of solitude. Making what I’m about to do at least probable instead of impossible. But I’ll be trapped in the staff along with Olosa until you can find Osain, the Protector of the Forest. I just hope Olosa doesn’t blow out my eardrums when I see her.”

“What? But—I—”

“No time. Must start. Don’t worry, I’ll be with you the whole way. Just remember to think like me, feel Olosa’s flow, and we may this will have half a chance of success.”

“Only half?”

They zoomed between the underside of a drawbridge and dove deep. An explosion of wood bellowed—Olokun’s massive body was slicing through the waters behind them.

“Hey,” Eshu smiled as he broke down into red and black mist, “half a chance is better than nothing. Do your best! And don’t let them steal me, eh?” 

And just like that he was gone, sucked up by the crystal along with Olosa. TJ wasn’t sure how existence worked within the crystal, but if it was anything like a genie bottle, he really wanted to see what kind of tirade Eshu was suffering under the great storm that was likely Olosa and her mounting ire. 

Good, TJ thought. Eshu deserved it for all he’d done., and TJ was still salty that he pretended to be Josh all summer. HeTJ just hoped that Olosa could make her inevitable rant quick so they could both help him at that moment. 

Okay, TJ, you got this. Think like Eshu, flow like Olosa. No sweat.

But that was easier said than done. After all, he was still just a teenager barely passing his remedial classes. He hadn’t learned the intricacies of Eshu-style illusions, or how to harness the power of water and alligators like Olosa.

A rocky surface blasted near TJ’s side, scraping him along the knee. Hot pain seared through his body. He expected to see blood in the tear in his jeans, yet there was only a glowing white streak across his skin where the wound on his knee should’ve been.

“Stay still, mortal.” Olokun called from above. 

TJ could barely make out his glowing eyes as he ignored the Orisha’s demand and swam farther into the darkness below. It was too tight down there. A fight in the narrow and cramp base of the fortress would’ve been suicide for TJ. He needed to shoot back up and around Olokun where there was some space to at least maneuver, a place where he could attempt to “think like Eshu.”

TJ’s signature tingle wrapped through his fingers and along his staff’s surface. The power was tangible but he just didn’t know what to do with it. He and the other campers never learned illusionary magic. That was supposed to be an advanced use of Ashe and very obscure—occurring to Mr. Du Bois anyway. So he focused on Olosa instead. After all, he was surrounded by water.

As he darted between another set of broken pillars, his mind rushed to that first week of camp and the lesson of water bubbles. And just as the thought occurred to him, the staff’s crystal radiated green as though in affirmation.

TJ barrel rolled through a small gap of crumbled rocks, one that Olokun couldn’t fit his hand under, and started catching pillars the size of baobab trees in his enormous bubbles. When he came out the other end, he shot them out toward the fast-approaching Olokun.

The pillars halted in the air as though stopped by an invisible wall. “You cannot use my own element against me, child!” Olokun bellowed. “This is futile. Lay down the staff and give Eshu and Olosa to me.” The pillars frosted and fell along the rocky ocean floor, shattering into pieces.

The move, thankfully, gave TJ an opening to get past Olokun and shoot up out of the trench.

Okay, duh. Water magic’s a bad idea against a water Orisha…

Time to go back to Eshu’s plan, then. But how did someone even create illusions? In the movies, it was always more complicated to make full scenes than just a single image.

That’s it!

As TJ made his way out of the narrow trench, and back out to where he and his friends found the underwater fortress, he halted. Out in the open like that, there was no way he could outmaneuver Olokun for that long. But there was one thing he could try... 

TJ concentrated, clutched his staff, punched it above his head, and imagined himself being invisible. Olokun rushed out of the trench just as TJ felt a sensation of coolness come over him. The colossal Orisha quirked an eyebrow, looking everywhere that TJ wasn’t. 

Did that work?

Maybe TJ didn’t have to escape from Olokun. Perhaps he could end things right then and there. TJ swam to the Orisha’s flank, very cautiously, and raised his staff in hand. He had done it! Olokun had no idea where he was anymore. But just as he committed to his next spell, Olokun lifted a giant finger. A white light pulsated from its tip and it flew out straight to TJ. 

At the behest of his staff, TJ was moved bodily out of the white streak’s path. But even that wasn’t enough. The beam sliced along TJ’s back and he screamed in pain. The impact sent him soaring far, far back as an irritating heat pestered TJ anytime his back muscles convulsed even a little. 

It was like being hit by a paintball only much, much worse. 

Was this what it felt like to get shot? There was a burning, aggravating sensation in along his spine, growing outward from where he was hit. He’d had that described to him once before.

It was the same sensation his cousin said she felt when she got hit with a stray bullet back home.

TJ never thought he’d actually get shot, least of all not in the Orisha plane of places.

He kept tumbling through the water, tumbling until his back crumbled against what felt like an old and dying reef. It wasn’t until his skid stopped that he realized they were on some portion of the roof of the fortress. The new gap near the tower’s battlements indicated where he had crashed into. 

His whole body screamed of sores. 

“Stop fighting the pain,” Olokun said as TJ struggled. The Orisha lifted his hand once more and TJ felt the pressure of water along his legs and arms lifting him. He was being trapped by Olokun’s own water bubble. “You have great potential, young mortal. But you are no equal to me.”

Think like Eshu, flow like Olosa. Think like Eshu, flow like Olosa. 

Then it clicked.

He wasn’t supposed to think of them separately, but as one. He needed to think like Eshu while flowing like Olosa. 

“There’s something you don’t know about me,” TJ grunted.

Olokun gave him a lazy expression as he continued wrapping TJ in a ball of ice. “Oh, yes? What might that be?”

“I’m a lucky charm.”

TJ felt for his Ashe, but instead of internalizing it, he let it spring forward to Olokun’s essence, his spirit. The sensation was like burrowing through the ground like a gopher. But Olokun’s energy felt different from Manny or Ayo’s. It was like drinking from a well that was too sweet, too sour, just… too much. Something he wasn’t meant to tap into. But TJ had to keep drinking from it. It was his only chance. His body protested, and his skin felt like it could peel away from his flesh. He gritted against the pain as the water bubble tore away from him, and the tower all around them crumpled too.

They fell, toppling straight down to the throne room itself. Right where their little chase-fight had started. 

Thanks to the drop being exceedingly long, TJ was able to right himself before the fall. Olokun was slower in finding his orientation as he crashed and scrapped into the throne room walls until he fell mere feet away from his throne, mere feet away… from his chains.

If TJ had the energy, he could try to get those chains back around Olokun, find his friends, and figure out a way to entrap the Orisha again—at least until they could find more help. But TJ did not have the energy to do it.

Think like Eshu, flow like Olosa, he reminded himself. Think like Eshu, flow like Olosa. 

He needed to use Olokun… use his own power against him, just like they did with Yemoja. 

Lifting his staff once more, in TJ’s mind’s eye he painted the picture of a different landscape. The throne room changed from old, broken pillars and decorated chairs to a plunging waterfall gorge. The rushing white water below them birthed tentacles arms that sprang out toward Olokun’s arms and legs. The Orisha dodged the great beast, not realizing it wasn’t real. TJ saw the truth of it though. He needed Olokun to move in just the right way so that he’d get wrapped up in his chains again. After only a few seconds, Olokun tangled himself in three of the chains. It wasn’t the neatest job, but it was getting the job done. 

TJ’s image started to flicker. But the chains were nearly done and wrapped around Olokun once more. 

“What is this?” Olokun cried out. “I will not be captured again.”

TJ murmured with strain under his breath. “Just. Stay. Right. There.”

Before TJ make his next move, he was blasted away by a blast that came out of one of the waterfalls—it’s source from somewhere outside the painting of his illusion. 

The image of the waterfall gorge broke, and they were all back in the low-lit throne room. As TJ tumbled away, he readied himself for another illusion, and Olokun called out. “I’m not about to risk another chaining.”

Who was he talking to? TJ followed the path of the Orisha’s gaze where Mr. Bolawe was swimming toward the center of the throne room. 

“The mortal holds some power I do not know,” Olokun continued, shaking off his chains. 

“I have some idea of his power, Great One,” Bolawe answered. “We can still have the staff.”

“No, we must leave. I cannot contend with such illusions in my state. We’ll be back for you, Eshu… and you, mortal boy.”

“You’re not leaving yet!” TJ thrust his staff out to paint another image, but Olokun and Mr. Bolawe shot straight up and out of the broken roof before TJ could capture them.

It was time to get his friends and go back to the mortal world. TJ had had enough of the Orisha Realm. Plus, they had done what they’d come here to do—save a friend.

Even if it wasn’t the one they had come for.

Leaving the Aqua Realm

Manny was the first to wake after TJ nudged her on the shoulder a few times near the corner of the throne room. Mr. Bolawe was right about her just knocking herself out. Ayo wasn’t as lucky. When they woke him, it took the boy a while to remember where he was and what he was doing there.

“I had this crazy dream,” he said at first. “It was nuts. Joshua turned out to be an Orisha. Ol’ Sally told us to drown. And then we got chased by—”

Manny stopped his rambling with an outstretched hand and offered him his cracked glasses. When Ayo got them on he jerked back at the destroyed throne room around them. Then he started clutching at his throat. “How am I breathing? What are we doing underwater!?”

TJ gave him a weak chuckle. “Simmons was right about this place. The loopiness is settling in.

“Or maybe Ayo just got rocked harder It wasn’t a dream, man.”

As though all his memories came rushing back to him, Ayo twisted immediately to the whale bone throne. “Olokun!” He jerked his head up, down, and center. “Where’s he at? His chains are on the floor.”

“I couldn’t stop him. He got away with Mr. Bolawe… or um.. Olugbala.”

“Olugbala? Bolawe’s Olugbala? And what about Eshu? Where’s—”

TJ tapped his staff against Ayo’s shoulder. “I’ll explain everything, but we have to go. You grab Adeola. We can’t wake her up. Manny’s gonna take Mr. Du Bois.”

And so they all got to work, assisting the unconscious Adeola and the still mumbling Mr. Du Bois—the jellyfish who were guarding him seemed to have left at the same time Mr. Bolawe did. 

TJ owed Mr. Du Bois the biggest apology ever. He wasn’t completely sure what was what or who was aligned with who, but he suspected that Mr. Du Bois and Adeola had been working together against Mr. Bolawe. When Adeola woke up, he hoped to get his answers. He had a bad feeling he wouldn’t get a coherent response from Mr. Du Bois unless someone could stop his ranting.

Traveling back to where Ol’ Sally had helped them to cross over wasn’t difficult, just long. When Yewa saw them, however, she asked as many questions as Ayo did. TJ explained everything he could before Ol’ Sally cut them off and sent them straight back to the mortal realm.