The cell phone flies through the air and lands in the dirt.
I start screaming.
“Shut up,” the drunk man says, rough, choking me with one arm, forcing all sound back into my throat. He holds me firm against him, his body curving around mine, his fingers brushing against my neck, scaly and cold.
Crocodile skin.
God, please please help me.
I struggle against his arm, kicking at his leg—all the time, gulping at air, the way I imagine I would if I flew up, up, up, so high that oxygen disappears. Black light creeps up over my eyes, blocking the world out, but not before I see his face looming over me as I crash onto the packed dirt road.
CHAPTER SEVEN
MAMA’S GUMPTION
“This drunk man I saw sitting at the tuck shop the other day just attacked me,” I tell Mama and Gogo. They are sitting in the kitchen, drinking tea, the door open to provide a breeze.
Mama inspects the red marks on my arms where he grabbed me. My head aches, but I don’t know if it was the choking or falling that caused it. He touched my neck. The neck is the place of anger. If somebody touches you there, they want you to die. He is that angry with me. But why? What did I do to him, except refuse to let him be my sugar daddy?
I don’t mention the way his skin felt, like crocodile skin—Mama would scoff at me if I said anything—but I wonder: Could he be a sorcerer? There’s something evil about him. Something more than just a drunk man.
“Men!” Mama rages. “They think they can just get away with anything.”
“But what are we going to do, Elizabeth?” Gogo rocks back and forth on her chair, one of the legs wobblier than the others. “There are drunk men everywhere.”
“That is true. But this drunk man attacked our daughter.”
“Do we know this man, Khosi?” Gogo asks. “Do we know his family?”
I shake my head. “But lately, he is always at the tuck shop around the corner.”
“What is happening to us?” Gogo sips her tea and looks out the open door, her eyes distant, seeing nothing in front of her. “In the past, it was always the men who protected the community. And now, they are the ones we must fear.”
She reaches out and grabs my hand, her eyes focusing on mine. “You must be careful, Khosi,” she says. “Not just with this man, but with every man, especially if they are drunk.”
I nod even though this is something I already know.
“I am not going to sit here and scold my girls to be more careful.” All Mama’s anger gives her sudden energy. “Come with me, Khosi! We’re going to pay this little coward a visit.”
She grabs my hand and, like two determined crazy women, we march out the door and down the street. Actually, Mama’s the mad woman and I’m lagging behind, wishing I hadn’t told her who attacked and robbed me.
“Don’t go so fast, Mama.” I hope maybe she’ll turn around and we’ll go back to the house and pretend this never happened.
She glances at me, quick quick, then turns back to the road. “Why didn’t you fight him off?” Her voice, demanding.
“I tried.” Now the tears are spilling down my face. Why is Mama blaming me for something I couldn’t help? “He surprised me. I wasn’t prepared.”
“Izzit?” She slows down so that I’m beside her. She reaches out with a rough hand and wipes the tears from my face. It stings where she touches me. “You didn’t try hard enough,” she says.
“He was stronger than me,” I protest. “He was choking me!” I point to the red marks on my neck, where he held me with the crook of his arm.
Now she gets up in my face, fierce and unrelenting. “And next time, he could rape you or kill you. Is that what you want?”
There’s nothing to say. I can’t tell Mama that he had animal strength. So I just look at the dirt, to avoid Mama’s accusing gaze.
“You must learn to notice what’s going on around you and defend yourself.”
I open my mouth to protest, then remember how I wasn’t noticing anything when he attacked me. I was just too happy about Little Man.
“Very soon, you are going to need more courage than ever before,” she says. She reaches out again and wipes more tears from my face, her touch still harsh but this time, there’s a gentleness behind it. “Don’t ever let yourself be a victim, Khosi.”
I wonder why Mama thinks I’m going to need courage? I’m too afraid to ask. And why is she blaming me for getting attacked? This is a new side to Mama.
The man is sitting on his bucket in front of the tuck shop, his eyes closed, his head nodding as he sleeps.
“Is that the man?” she asks me.
“Yes, Mama.” I hope she doesn’t make too much trouble for me. If she humiliates him publicly, what will he do to me the next time he catches me alone?
Mama snorts. “Him?” she asks again. “That tiny man?”
I nod, ashamed. He has surprising strength, I want to say, like a crocodile’s.
Mama doesn’t hesitate. She strides over, slapping him so hard, he falls off the bucket and lands in the dirt.
When he looks up, startled, Mama swoops down, grips his shirt, and shoves him back down.
Our eyes meet. His, coal-black and hard. You’ll regret this, they say.
“Shame on you,” Mama screams.
His eyes dart around, looking for something. A weapon, perhaps? An escape? He grips the earth, his fingertips curling around a clod of dirt.
Mama’s firm hand presses him down. “Are you such a big man, to go around preying on young girls? Do you think you’re so tough?” she yells.
The old man flicks his gaze toward me. “Is she your little protector?” he asks, contemptuous, like I’m Zi’s age and need an adult to fight my battles.
I guess he’s right. He knows he can’t say a thing to Mama, so he goes for the weak one here—me.
“Khosi doesn’t need my protection,” Mama says. She lets go of him and wipes her hand on her skirt, as if his shirt made her hand dirty. “People will be watching you now. You won’t bother her again.”
Maybe Mama’s certain of that, but when she turns her head to look at the small crowd that’s gathered to watch this crazy woman beat up a man, he winks at me.
I suck in my breath. I knew it. I knew this could create trouble for me. Mama’s gone all week long, and that’s when I will have to face this man.
“If I hear you’ve done anything to her—” Mama shakes her finger at him and gestures at me to leave. “Believe me, you will wish you hadn’t.”
I wish that made me feel safe. But it doesn’t.
As we walk away, I sneak a look backwards. The drunk man is just sitting on his bucket, laughing silently. At me.
If I were as strong and brave as my mother, he’d leave me alone. But I’m not. Even as Mama says, “He’ll leave you alone now, Khosi,” fear splits my heart right down the middle.
CHAPTER EIGHT
THE LIGHTNING BIRD
I