NEXT SEMESTER
Cecil R. Cross II
NEXT SEMESTER
To my grandma Mable—an angel in the physical form.
Thank you for always being there. Because of you,
I know what it means to love.
Acknowledgments
First and foremost, I’ve got to give thanks to God—the source of my creativity, center of my joy, and keeper of my soul. With Him, all things are possible.
To my parents, thanks for your continuous encouragement and support. Mom, when I felt like giving up, thanks for pushing me to finish. Yes, I’m paying my tithes! Dad, thanks for all your words of wisdom. To Ebony, “straight from Star Search,” you inspire me—a sister, best friend, and #1 fan, all in one. My achievements are yours. To my brother, Dre, thanks for lacing me with enough game to last three lifetimes. I’m still sticking to the script. Mark, I got your back like your spinal cord, bro. As long as I’ve got two dollars, you got one! To my cousins, Keuna, Kahlana & Katrice—28th & Valley will never be the same. Love y’all for life! Rod-O, we’re cashing that million-dollar check you wrote. Our time is now. Doc, you’re more than a mentor to me. This one is in loving memory of Uncle Mike & Uncle DJ.
To my agent, Regina, thanks for always having my back, helping me stay patient, creating new opportunities, and keeping it 100% with me at all times. Tareia, thanks for being the best publicist in the world! Holiday, Colby, Slim—you already know it’s Plush Blue Ent. for life! We can’t be stopped! A big shout out to the “206,” all my brothers of Kappa Alpha Psi Fraternity, Inc., Two-Tray J, “Catfish Are Delicious” Kev, Icky, K-Dubb, Mama Nia, Kun Luv, Aunt May, and my Images USA fam. To D-Baby & Nana—“the trip” made me who I am. Thank you. To all of my friends and family members, thanks for all your love, prayers, and support. To my niece, Sierra, nephew Darin, and Goddaughter Amaria, let this be a reminder that you can accomplish ANYTHING you put your mind to!
And last but not least, to all of the refund check splurging, spring break wildin’, all-nighter pulling, step show attending, term paper writing college students, this book is especially for y’all. May your next semester be as memorable as your first.
CONTENTS
PROLOGUE
CHAPTER ONE
CHAPTER TWO
CHAPTER THREE
CHAPTER FOUR
CHAPTER FIVE
CHAPTER SIX
CHAPTER SEVEN
CHAPTER EIGHT
CHAPTER NINE
CHAPTER TEN
CHAPTER ELEVEN
CHAPTER TWELVE
CHAPTER THIRTEEN
CHAPTER FOURTEEN
CHAPTER FIFTEEN
CHAPTER SIXTEEN
CHAPTER SEVENTEEN
CHAPTER EIGHTEEN
PROLOGUE
I’d almost gotten over it all.
All of the nights I couldn’t sleep. The nightmares—watching my own funeral from the front pew of a church. Not making it to Katrina’s room in time to stop her from pulling the trigger, her brains splattering before my eyes. Waking up in cold sweats. Nervously gnawing my fingernails. The anxiety of awaiting my HIV test results. Tormenting myself daily about whether or not students at the University of Atlanta would ridicule me because they thought I was HIV positive. The fear of facing the rumors. Contemplating withdrawing from college altogether.
Nearly one month had passed since the day Katrina told me she was HIV positive. The day ESPN reported that her main squeeze—Downtown D, a top NFL prospect—would be ineligible for the draft because he, too, was HIV positive. The day my involvement in a love triangle led to my staring death in the face.
It took spending Christmas with family and New Year’s with friends for me to gather myself, restore my swagger, and put my first semester behind me. I’d almost completely moved on.
Almost.
The name on my caller ID showed up as unknown. But the moment I heard the voice on the other end, I knew very well who the number belonged to.
“J.D.,” the soft voice said.
For a moment, I was caught off guard. It was still early in the morning on the West Coast, and I was right in the middle of pouring a bowl of cereal. I paused and stood there tight-lipped, waiting for her to speak again.
“J.D., are you there?” she asked. “Can you hear me?”
“Kat?” I said, knowing very well it was her.
“Hey,” she said, sounding unsure of herself. “Yeah, it’s me—Katrina. Ummm. I know it’s early in the morning out there. I wasn’t expecting you to answer. I was actually going to leave you a message. But, I’m glad you answered. How are you?”
I didn’t quite know how to respond to that question. The typical answer would have been, “Fine, and you?” But that would have been a lie. Truthfully, the mere sound of her voice made my stomach quiver. I felt nauseous. Thankfully, I was taking this call on an empty stomach and I had enough common sense and compassion not to blurt out how I really felt.
“I’m straight,” I said, being purposely short.
“Well, I suppose that beats being lopsided,” she said with a half laugh. “Anyways, it’s good to hear your voice. I really don’t know what to say. After everything that happened last semester…”
I abruptly cut her off.
“I don’t want to talk about last semester.”
“Oh…okay,” she said, sounding incredibly nervous. “Well, I just finished unpacking all of my things, just kinda cleaning up in my dorm room a bit now. Have you made it back to Atlanta yet?”
“Nah.”
“I figured you would have, with school starting in a few days and all,” she said, continuing on as if everything was all good and we’d been talking on a regular basis. “Well, I know you probably have lots to do before you come back. You are coming back, right?” “What difference does it make to you?” I asked as the milk I was pouring overflowed and spilled onto the counter.
I cursed under my breath as I gathered some paper towels.
“Look, J.D.,” Katrina said, “I know that you are probably still upset with me about how everything unfolded. And it’s not my intention to argue with you. I just wondered if you were coming back. That’s all.”
“Yeah, I’m coming back.”
“Well, that’s great!” Katrina said, sounding genuinely happy. “I remember you stressing about being on academic probation and needing to get at least a 2.5 GPA. You must’ve met your goal, huh?”
“Just barely,” I said.
“That’s what’s up! How’d you do in biology?”
“I got a C.”
“You passed! At the end of the day, that’s all that matters. How’d you make out on the other test?”
“What other test?” I asked.
“The other test,” she said. “How’s your health, J.D.?”
“You just don’t get it!” I shouted. “I was really feeling you last semester. At one point, there was nothing I wouldn’t have done to be with you. Nothing! I’ve only felt that way about one other girl in my entire life and I was with her for five years! But that’s neither here nor there. All I’m saying is, I ain’t heard from you the entire break and all of a sudden you wanna just up and call me on some ‘how you doing’? I almost caught HIV messing with you and you want to ask me how’s my health? I never would have been in danger had you been honest with me and told me you were still screwing Downtown D!”
I was heated and my heart was beating fast, but I was careful to lower my voice, remembering that my mom and sister were home and might be listening in. Still, I’d been waiting to get some things off my chest.
“Look,” I said, “what you did last semester wasn’t cool. Thank God I tested negative. I’m just ready to put that chapter of my life behind me and move on. Honestly, I’m still
hostile about the whole situation. This conversation brought back a lot of feelings that I’d rather not deal with. So I think its best you do your own thing. And I’ma do mine. On the real, I don’t feel comfortable associating myself with you on any level. You put my life in jeopardy and that ain’t kosher. So when I see you, I’ma act like I don’t. I think you should do the same.”
The line was silent. So silent, in fact, I had to look at my phone to make sure she hadn’t hung up.
“You know,” she said, sniffling, “I thought about calling you plenty of times over Christmas break. I just wanted you to know how sorry I was and how much I wanted to go back in time and change things. I prayed that you wouldn’t be HIV positive. I wouldn’t wish this disease on my worst enemy. When I finally gathered enough nerve to call you, it was simply because I didn’t want things to be weird when we saw each other. I mean, I understand if you don’t want to be friends anymore, but I figured we could at least be cordial. I had no idea you would respond this way.”
“Yeah, whatever!” I said.
“Whatever?” she asked.
My cheek inadvertently rubbed up against the touch screen on my phone and activated the speakerphone. As I frantically searched the scroll menu on my phone for the key to disable the speakerphone, Kat continued her tirade.
“Oh, that’s how it is now?” she asked. “Whatever? How immature of you! I fully understand you being upset, but at the end of the day, you are not HIV positive. I am. After all of the time we spent together last semester and the good times we had, I would have expected you to be more understanding. But I guess I was wrong.”
She paused for a moment before bursting into tears. I could tell because her voice was becoming increasingly shaky.
“You know, J.D., I can be many things, but I refuse to be the object of your hostility. Correct me if I’m wrong, but I don’t recall ever asking you to take your condom off. That was your decision!”
I couldn’t believe she had the audacity to call me and put the blame on my shoulders. Although she was right, at the moment it just didn’t sit well with me. Enraged, I responded impulsively.
“Yeah, and so is this,” I said, hanging up the phone.
As I stood over my bowl of cereal, taking my aggression out by crunching the Frosted Flakes with my spoon, I heard footsteps behind me.
“What was that all about?” my mom asked. “I could hear you fussin’ all the way upstairs.”
I wondered how long she’d been standing there.
“Oh, nothing,” I said. “Just some crazy girl I met at school.”
“I don’t mean to be in your business, but did I hear her mention something about HIV?” she asked as she pulled a carton of eggs out of the fridge.
“I really don’t want to talk about it,” I said.
“Okay, J.D.,” my mom continued as if I hadn’t said a word. “Now, I’ve told you to be careful down there in Atlanta. I ain’t ready to be a grandmother yet and I damn sure couldn’t stand to hear nothing about you coming back home with anything other than good grades. You hear me?”
“Yes, Mom,” I said as I sat in one of the bar stools and starting munching on the cereal.
“I’m serious, J.D!” she said. “When I came down to Atlanta to drop you off at school and left you with that box of condoms, I didn’t mean for them to be decorations for your room. If you are going to be having sex, you need to strap up. Period.”
“I know, Mom,” I said.
“Judging by what the girl on the other end of that phone said, apparently you don’t! If you know better, you should do better!”
“Okay, Mom,” I said in an aggravated tone.
“Don’t ‘okay, Mom’ me on this, J.D.,” she said. “We are talking about life and death here. You know good and darn well there ain’t no cure for AIDS and you’re gonna go to Atlanta and take a chance with your life? Come on, J.D., don’t be stupid! Ten minutes of lust is not worth a lifetime of agony. You remember that.”
My mom’s impromptu AIDS awareness speech was killing my appetite. I just dropped my spoon in the bowl, propped my elbow up on the counter and rested my forehead in my hand as she continued on.
“I am not paying for you to go to school for you to be down there acting like Deuce Bigalow, Male Gigolo,” she said. “I was fooling around my freshman year at FAMU and got pregnant. I am not ashamed of the decision I made, nor do I regret bringing you into this world. But that one decision changed my entire life. I couldn’t finish college. But you can! Hell, nobody in our family has a college diploma, but you can be the first. And you will, as long as you make responsible decisions. Normally, I wouldn’t get all in your business like this, and you know that. But I love you too much to lose you to ignorance. So Momma’s gotta keep it real on this one. You feel me?”
“Yeah, Mom,” I said. “I feel you.”
“Fa sheezy!” my mom said, mocking my slang. “Now you know I’m gonna cook you a big breakfast since this is your last day here before you go back to school. Why you gonna ruin your appetite with that cereal?”
“I ain’t ruined jack!” I said. “I’ma eat that, too. What you making?”
“Your favorite!” she said. “Some homemade waffles, cheese eggs, hash browns and bacon.”
“Man, that sounds good! Do I have to go back to school?” I asked with a laugh.
ONE
HOME
Of the three holiday parties I attended while back home in Oakland for winter break, all three got shot up. A couple of my close friends had been hit, caught in the crossfire. In less than two months, I’d been to four funerals—all guys I’d grown up with. In fact, violence in The Town had gotten so bad, just going to the mall was a risky move. Growing up in Cali, I was used to being around ignorance and violence. But it seemed like it was worse now than it had ever been. It was to the point where I had to watch my back every time I stepped out of the house.
And the fact that I’d returned home from college didn’t help. It only increased the size of the bull’s-eye on my chest. In my hood, there is more of a celebration for a guy being released from prison than for one who’d returned home from college. As irrational as it sounds, that’s just the way it is. The fact of the matter is, misery loves company. Other than my best friend, Todd, who got a full ride to Crampton on a football scholarship, none of my friends left home for college. Most of them didn’t go at all.
Over winter break, I noticed a lot of the guys I hung around starting to hate on the fact that I’d left for college in an underhanded way. Snide remarks like “You think you’re better than us now that you went to college?” and “This nigga been in college for one semester and swears he knows everything now” were becoming more frequent by the day. Guys who were supposed to be my friends were turning on me, all because I’d decided to do more with my life than they had. When mixed with envy, the crab-in-a-barrel mentality gave way to genocide in the hood. Home wasn’t safe anymore.
That morning I was headed back to school, when I threw my last bag in the trunk of the car, I was determined to study hard and do whatever it took to get off academic probation and stay in school, so I could one day remove myself from harm’s way for good. But when I saw my younger sister, Robyn, take the driver’s seat, I figured my luck had finally run out. She’d just gotten her license and wanted to practice. I couldn’t quite fathom why my mom decided to let her at six in the morning, while it was still dark out. But after Robyn accidentally flicked on the windshield wipers, hazard lights and the wrong blinker before we made it to the highway, I knew she needed all the practice she could get. I still couldn’t understand why her in-flight training had to come while driving me to the airport. At least let one person in this family graduate from college, I thought, as we risked life and limb cruising down I-580 en route to the airport. I could tell my mom was a bit nervous, her head on the constant swivel, double-checking Robyn’s blind spots each time before she merged lanes. But not even Robyn’s no-driving-skills-having-self could stop my mom
from going through with her State of the Union address as we neared the terminal.
“Are you sure you got everything?” she asked.
“If I didn’t, it’s too late to turn around now,” I said from the backseat, with a hint of sarcasm.
“Hey! I’m just checking to make sure you haven’t left anything behind. You know the weather has changed since the last time you were down there in Atlanta. It’s probably going to be chilly until March. I hope you packed warm. You know you don’t have a doctor down there, and I can’t afford to fly you back home if you get sick.”
“I did.”
“Good. Now let me see…what am I forgetting? Hmmm. Do you have your award letter? Because you left that on the coffee table last semester.”
“Yeah, I got it,” I said, running my hand through my pocket to double-check.
Although I had all but severed my relationship with my high school girlfriend, Keisha, leaving without hearing her say goodbye didn’t sit well with me. She was my first love. She knew I was leaving and hadn’t even bothered to send me a text message to bid me farewell or wish me good luck. Although I’d never admit it, my mom knew not hearing from Keisha bothered me. My mom knew me like the back of her hand.
“Look, J.D., I know you probably don’t want to talk about it, but I know you have strong feelings for Keisha,” she said.
“I ain’t even thinking about that girl,” I said, lying.
“Come on now,” my mom said. “I was born at night. Not last night! I know that’s not the truth. Y’all dated all through high school. But the fact of the matter is, both of you are grown-up now and, quite possibly, growing apart.”
“Mom, I’m telling you, it’s not like that with me and Keisha anymore.”
Next Semester Page 1
