Moko Magic: Carnival Chaos: Chapters 9–14

They watched a bunch of little kids enjoying the water, too, with their eyes and their wows getting bigger and bigger as the splashes that started out low gradually got higher and higher, then burst into huge, random eruptions.

She looked flustered and hot.

“I hope you never lose your accent,” the librarian said.

“But he’s a bit of a recluse and doesn’t like to talk to anybody if he can help it. Besides, I don’t think you need to do a super-deep dive for a middle-school project.”

Aidan jotted down the titles of every text and prepped an index for himself.

“Maybe you’re still feeling sick from earlier. Take a lap around the stacks.”

“You were just catatonic,” Aidan said.

He looked around to see if anyone had noticed, and spotted the same Flowers lady from Information looking at them with a smug smile.

Brooke removed the basket of fried plantains from the vat of hot oil and gently shook the finished ones into the serving container.

His tall, thin frame was slightly obscured by the steam in the kitchen.

She looked around as if she was about to divulge a secret.

She immediately went into talking-to-a-reporter mode.

Brooke felt something surge through her body, up from her toes and down from her head at the same time, filling her chest and then exploding through her fingers.

She and the monster picked up a bit of yellow paint, the shimmer from an aziza wing, strands of eloko grass hair, and on and on.

The pots and all the food trays were covered with a purplish, shimmering, see-through substance.

There was Uncle Stanley’s famous peppery callaloo; a delectable pelau with both beef and chicken; macaroni pie with warm, bubbly cheese in the middle and a crackly cracker crust at the top; stewed chicken that was spicy but not burning; sweet fried plantains; a fresh, crispy salad of chunky tomatoes and crunchy lettuce with cucumber and shredded carrot; and, to top it all off, an ice-cold pitcher of ginger beer that was both biting and sweet.

His visa hadn’t been approved.

It was quiet for a moment, and then a cacophony of sound and motion erupted in the restaurant.

Most of the restaurant’s occupants had spilled out by then to gawk at a black SUV that had slammed into the wall.

Beneath the pepperiness of the food and the light sprinkles of salt was the sweetness of something new, like nectar hidden under layers of petals that were preparing to unfurl.

“You’re a natural at calming people.”

Some did their play-by-play analysis in groups; others were giving a blow-by-blow account into their phones.

He didn’t look too happy about the prospect.

Then there was the sound of them, like melodies that hummed in harmony and then sharply fell into discord.

But the vibration that resonated from them was the most compelling of all.