The little princess snapped her fingers and pointed at her brother, "Spice boy isn't supposed to be speaking," she declared, sticking her tongue out at him and pulling an exaggerated face. "Your input isn't helpful."
Osita paid neither of them any mind.
He had turned fully back to the barbecue now, lifting the lid and carefully turning the meat. His expression grew intense, brows drawn together as though he were not cooking but crafting a masterpiece worthy of legend. He adjusted the fire, brushed on more sauce, and nodded to himself, utterly absorbed.
Nwadike noticed immediately.
With their father distracted, a mischievous grin crept across his face. He raised a hand casually and flicked his fingers.
A tiny ball of crackling lightning leapt from his hand and struck his sister.
She yelped.
