Eliza's Shadow by Catherine Wittmack Read Free Book Online

out of shyness and because I needed to walk forward
and didn’t trust my feet to navigate the terrain. I chose a seat toward the
back of the room, several rows away from Ren, safely positioned so that he
would have to turn around if he wanted to look at me. I wanted an opportunity
to observe him without feeling watched myself.
    Ren didn’t turn to find me at first but just
before Mr. Palmer began class he glanced over his shoulder. I took a deep
breath and met his gaze with a challenging glare. His dark eyes softened. The
confidence I’d seen before was gone. He looked nervous.
    “Ok people, take your seats.” Mr. Palmer
announced.
    Ren quickly turned his gaze to the front of the
class.
    “Good afternoon, all. Today we will be resuming
our discussion about Africa.” Mr. Palmer accentuated the continent with gusto.
    “And… we have a treat. Ren Alden, our new friend,
has brought in something of his from Africa to share.” Mr. Palmer said with a
nod in Ren’s direction.
    Ren nodded back, his lips pressed tight into a shy
smile.
    Mr. Palmer crossed the room and leaned behind his
desk. When he stood back up, he held a small burlap bag in his hands.
    “This…” He said. Shoving both hands deep into the
bag, he gave the bag a little shake letting the fabric fall away from the
object in his hands. Mr. Palmer’s fingers were wrapped around a brown mottled
ball that looked like a dried mudpie with legs.
    “Is an African Boli. It may not look like much but
it is an incredibly sacred object to the Bamana people, who live in Mali.” Mr.
Palmer said, turning the sculpture around in his hands for all of us to see.
    “Boli’s are made of animal bones, vegetables,
honey, mud and even blood. The Bamana say that the boli helps them control the
natural life force. They use the boli for spiritual purposes and say it wards
off evil. Ren, where did you get this?” He asked curiously.
    “It was a gift…from a friend.” Ren replied
solemnly.
    As I stared at the boli, my vision blurred. A wave
of heat rolled over me, and I felt weak. I brought my hands to my head and
tried to breathe evenly.
    “This is a sacred object. It’s surprising that it
came into your possession, Ren.” Mr. Palmer said but the sound of his voice was
faint as if it was reaching me through a long tunnel.
    Suddenly, light flashed behind my eyes blotting
out the classroom.
    Fire.
    Then it was gone and the classroom was back. Mr.
Palmer’s mouth moved but I could no longer hear his voice at all. The scene in
the room darkened like an overhead light short-circuiting.
    Flash.
    Fire again. Orange and yellow flames blazed
against a night sky.
    A chorus of voices chanted around me. Drums beat.
Dark faces smeared with red surrounded me, white teeth flashed in the firelight
as they sang. Smoke, thick and fragrant seeped into my nose and mouth.
    A small wrinkled man sat next to me. His weathered
hands roved around a ball in his lap. He dipped his hand into a bowl next to
him and his fingers came up dripping with a thick red liquid. Blood?
    He smeared the blood on the ball and rubbed
furiously over its surface. Then he stopped and lifted his face staring right
at me. His eyes grew so wide that the whites of them swam around black irises.
His mouth dropped open and he shouted,
    “Nyama!”
    I brought my hands to my face and squeezed my eyes
shut.
    “Eliza? Eliza!” Mr. Palmer’s voice cut through the
chanting, the chanting fell silent.
    I looked up. Twenty pairs of familiar eyes were
staring at me.
    “Are you feeling alright, Eliza?” Mr. Palmer asked
alarmed.
    My gaze shifted automatically in Ren’s direction.
A slight smile hung on his lips.      He’d expected this.
    The nerve. My blood bubbled.
    “No… I think I’m getting sick. I’d like to go to
the nurse’s office, if that’s ok.” I said and swiped my arm across my desk pushing
my notepad and pen into my bag before waiting for Mr. Palmer’s response.
    “Of course. I hope you feel better