NYU Black Renaissance Noire Spring/Summer 2013 | Page 18

His heart pounded in his head as he
stared at Ériga. He was furious, as much
with himself as at Ériga, and now that
he felt a kinship with Krotembo his
sympathy for the outsmarted boy grew
to levels almost unbearable. Ériga was
shameless and hardened in his ways—
he had seen ample evidence in the
episode with Krotembo. Yet he hoped.
Maybe Ériga would do the right thing,
given a chance.
‘Erm,’ Dimié Abrakasa said, his voice
a croak, saliva clinging to his teeth, ‘I
fit borrow money from you?’ The boys
searched each other’s faces. Dimié
Abrakasa dropped his eyes. ‘Please,’ he
said. ‘I lost my mother’s money today.’
Ériga’s tone was curt. ‘I no get anything
to give you.’
Dimié Abra