“There you have it,” he said, dapping me up and opening the door. “Hold on to that. We need to get out there early, ’cause I damn sure ain’t tryna pay, either. I’ll see you at the meeting later tonight.”
“Fa sho!” I said. “I’ma try to get a nap in first, though.”
Timothy shook me out of my slumber.
“Hurry and get yourself together so we can get to this meeting,” he said. “We’ve only got five minutes, and I’m not trying to be late. Especially not after the way Varnelius chewed you out for being tardy to the meeting last semester.”
“I know right,” I said, wiping sleep from the corner of my eye. “I had forgot all about that.”
“I’m gonna check my messages on MySpace one more time, while you get ready,” Timothy said.
“You sure have been online a lot today,” I said. “You looking up some classes or something?”
“No. Just doing a little chatting.”
“Your dad started up some kind of Internet ministry or something?” I asked, sliding on my sweatpants.
“Actually, I’m conversing with a love interest of mine.”
“Whaaaat?” I asked excitedly. “A little cyber sex, huh? I guess everybody’s tryna get their willy wet these days!”
“Oh, nonsense,” he said. “Amy doesn’t even participate in those type of activities. She’s a church girl.”
“Amy, huh? Got you a little jungle fever there, Timmy?”
“Jungle fever?” he asked, pressing the back of his hand up against his forehead. “I’m not running a temp.”
“Oh my God!” I said. “You’ve never seen Jungle Fever, the movie?”
Timothy just sat there, his fingers hovering over the keyboard, looking puzzled.
“Aaaah, forget it! I meant to say, I didn’t know you liked to ski in your spare time.”
“There aren’t any mountains in Atlanta,” Timothy said. “Well, there’s Stone Mountain, but it rarely ever gets any snow. I’ve never been skiing a day in my life.”
“Timothy, if this roommate situation is gonna ever work out, you’re gonna need to learn some damn ebonics! How ’bout this one? I didn’t know you had a thing for pink toes.”
“Pink toes. Pink toes. Pink toes,” he mumbled to himself. “Okay, I still don’t get it. Do you mind using the King’s English instead of all of this street slang?”
“White girls!” I said in exasperation. “With a name like Amy, I’m assuming she’s a snow bunny.”
“Oh!” he said. “I had no idea you were referring to…no! Amy isn’t white! She’s Italian.”
“Last time I checked, that was white, playa,” I said. “She lives in Italy?”
“No, she lives in Tubman Hall, on the other side of campus,” he said.
“Oh, I probably know her then,” I said.
“I doubt it,” he said. “She’s a chemistry major, like me. Plus, she’s into church. She isn’t really on the social scene.”
“Oh, okay,” I said, peeking over his shoulder to take a look at her profile picture. Under one of her pictures, someone left a comment that said Italian stallion!
“Italian stallion, huh?” I asked, leaning in for a better look. He quickly closed the window.
“Do you mind?” he asked, sounding agitated.
“She’s a cutie,” I said.
“Yes, she is,” he confirmed. “But looks are temporary, J.D. Amy is a virtuous woman. A woman I can trust to do the right thing, even when I’m not around. That’s why she’s my girl.”
“Wow,” I said, laughing. “Looks like she’s got you open, too.”
“I’m not even gonna try to figure out what that means,” Timothy said, closing his laptop. “Come on. Let’s go, before we’re late.”
I grabbed my room key and followed Timothy down to the living room area of our dorm, near the entrance. The hallway was packed. Everyone was heading to the meeting. When I walked into the room, I noticed that this meeting was a lot different than the one we had last semester. This was no longer a group of strangers who didn’t know each other. By now, everybody had pretty much clicked up and made friends. Now, guys were sitting with their crews getting reacquainted, arguing with each other about whose team was going to win the Super Bowl. Instead of walking into a quiet room of fellas still feeling each other out, I walked into one of laughter, assuredness and guys showing off new tattoos. It still smelled like the inside of a dirty clothes hamper, though.
“All right, everybody quiet down,” Varnelius said, standing up in his gold boots, army fatigue pants and purple wife beater. He was bald-headed, dark-skinned and average in height, with a husky build, and biceps as big as my head. “I know you are just getting back into the swing of things, so I want to make this meeting short and sweet.”
Varnelius was flanked by his three assistant RAs. Each of them responsible for their own floor. Of course, our floor RA, Lester, a tall, lanky, light-skinned guy with an S-curl and a plethora of female mannerisms, stood out in his florescent pink Polo button up, matching Chucks and ripped jeans. I had no idea Fresh was standing next to me, until he whispered in my ear.
“Okay, so I know the ripped jean this is making a comeback and everything,” he said. “But aren’t the holes supposed to be around the knee area?”
“Yeah,” I said. “Why?”
“I’m just wondering why Lester’s holes are so high up on his thighs. That’s kinda suspect, if you ask me.”
“As if his pastel color combo wasn’t,” I said with a laugh.
“Now that Cool Cali and Chi-Town’s finest are done sharing beauty secrets, we can get started,” Varnelius said, staring us down. “For those of you who don’t know me, my name is Varnelius, and I am the head resident assistant here at Marshall Hall. I am not your babysitter! You all are grown young men, and I expect you to conduct yourself as such. By now, you all should know our dorm motto.”
“I can’t stand that nigga, blood,” I whispered to Fresh. “He’s one of them cats who just takes his job way too serious.”
“As a matter of fact, since my boy D.J. from Cali is so talkative this evening, I will let him refresh your memory. D.J.,” he said, looking at me.
I just sat there, looking at him with a blank stare.
“Come on D.J.,” he said. “We don’t have all night. We’re not on West Coast time. Give us that Marshall Hall motto.”
“Well, if you are talking to me, my name is J.D.,” I said.
“And the motto?”
“Distinguished men of Marshall give respect to get respect,” I said.
“That’s right. And when it comes to respect, the rules are simple. Visitation is over at eleven o’clock p.m. Not eleven-oh-one.”
“Not eleven-oh-two,” everyone said in unison, sounding like a choir.
Varnelius chuckled. I think it was the first time I’d ever seen him crack a smile.
“Well, I’m glad y’all know it,” he said. “Eleven o’clock sharp! No loud music after ten. It’s the winter. It’s cold outside. And the roaches need somewhere warm and cozy to call home. If you don’t clean up after yourself, they will be roasting marshmallows right here in Marshall Hall. And I’m sure none of us want that. So do us all a favor, and keep the place clean. And for God sakes, stop pulling the daggone fire alarm! In a month or so it’s gonna be too cold out to be standing outside waiting on the firemen to come for a false alarm. So this semester, easy on the practical jokes.”
“This fool got more commandments than Moses,” Fresh said.
Everybody within earshot busted out laughing.
“Word,” someone behind me said. “Son is buggin’ right now, B.”
I knew that accent all too well. When I turned to see who was in agreement, I wasn’t surprised. It was Dub-B, in a Mets fitted, white T-shirt and sweatpants. He stood six-four, and was the only white guy I’d ever met who rocked his hair braided in cornrolls and stayed with a fresh goatee. All things considered, he was the blackest white guy I’d ever encountered.
Since Dub-B lived on the same floor as me, we grew close last semester. But since he played on the basketball team, he practiced so often I hadn’t even seen him since I’d been back on the yard.
“My guy,” I said, dapping him up. “What’s up with you, fam?”
“Tired,” he said. “This new coach got us doing two-a-days. Killing me, son!”
“And last but not least!” Varnelius said with an attitude, raising his voice to let us know he was annoyed by our side conversation. “One last warning. We all saw what happened to Downtown D last semester.”
The mention of Downtown D’s name sent a chill down my spine. The thought of how close I came to being a victim of his love triangle was unsettling, to say the least. I discreetly looked around to see if anyone looked in my direction to see how I’d respond, but didn’t notice any unordinary attention. Thank God, I thought. Maybe people really have forgotten about me being in the middle of that whole saga.
“This HIV thing is real,” Varnelius continued. “So if you’re gonna go deep-sea diving, please, for your own safety, wear a life jacket. If you know what I mean.”
“What does he mean?” Timothy whispered.
“Downtown D scored one too many times without his helmet,” Fresh said with a laugh.
“What does that mean?” Timothy asked, sounding even more confused.
“Wear a condom,” I said.
“Oh,” Timothy said. “Well, what the heck does that have to do with deep-sea diving and a helmet?”
“Don’t even worry about it, homie,” I said, with a laugh. “I swear, you’re ’bout as square as my back pocket. You crack me up sometimes.”
“Unless any of you have questions, this meeting is officially adjourned,” Varnelius said.
“Good,” I mumbled, turning to walk away before he even got the last word of his sentence out.
“Except for those of you on academic probation,” Varnelius said. “I’m not going to call out any names. You know who you are. If I am talking to you, each of you will be meeting with your individual floor RAs on your respective floors, near the washroom. If you are on the first floor, stay put. You all will meet right here. Thanks everybody for coming on time, and I look forward to a successful second semester, with no problems.”
“Damn,” I said, making an about-face, pouting.
“What you about to do, J?” Fresh asked.
“Man, I gotta stay for this lil’ meeting,” I said.
“Oh, yeah, that’s right. I forgot, you are on academic probation, huh?”
“Wish I wasn’t. What you finna get into?”
“I can’t call it,” he said. “Just hit me when you get outta there.”
“Aight,” I said.
Just as I was about to walk back into the room, a guy wearing a Pizza Time uniform busted through the front door, hoisting a pizza bag over his head.
“I got one last pizza going for five bucks. Any takers?”
The aroma had damn near everybody in the hallway digging in their pockets for a Lincoln. I was the first to pull one out of my pocket.
“What kind is it?” I asked.
“The five-dollar kind,” somebody in the hall said. “Who cares? If you don’t want it, I’ll take it.”
“Sausage,” the guy said, handing me the medium-size pizza.
“Thanks,” I said. “Man, I’m glad you came through. I probably wouldn’t have had time to make it to the caf.”
“I’ll give you two-fifty for half of it,” one guy said as he passed by.
“I’m straight,” I said. “You know I’m still on Cali time, and we’re three hours behind, so I get hella hungry at night.”
There were about six guys sitting on the couch in the room. Lester was sitting on a stool in front of them, the holes near his thighs in his jeans at direct eye level. I decided to stand up.
“Glad you could join us,” Lester said. “That pizza sure smells good. Care to share?”
“Not really,” I said.
“I don’t blame you. What is that, sausage?”
“Uh-huh,” I said.
“Mmmm,” he said, licking his lips. “I love me some sausage.”
“I bet you do, girlfriend,” a guy said mockingly as he walked by, snapping his fingers.
A group of guys standing in the hallway burst out in laughter. I snickered, trying to hold mine in.
“Anyway,” Lester said, rolling his eyes, “now that everybody is here, let’s get this meeting underway. I wanna make this as quick and painless as possible. I’m sure we’ve all got better things to do. In short, Varnelius has instructed us to keep you all on a short leash. The retention rate of students on academic probation at U of A is too low.”
“What is a retention rate?” someone asked.
“Basically, there are too many of you all on academic probation, who for whatever reason, don’t make the grade and end up dropping out of school. The university feels that your behavior in the dorm is a reflection of your obedience in the classroom. So to put it bluntly, they aren’t going to put up with any shit from you all this semester in terms of taking disciplinary action if you all get out of line here in Marshall Hall. Varnelius may be a little more lenient on the other guys, but you all are starting out with a red flag. Just keep that in mind, be sure to follow all of the rules that he discussed earlier and you shouldn’t catch any flak from him or anyone else. As far as your course loads go, just study hard, man. By the mere fact that you are sitting here, you obviously did well enough to make the cut last semester. And just think, if you keep your grades above a 2.5 this time around, you will have this monkey off your back for good. So handle your business.”
With that, the meeting was dismissed and each of us headed to our rooms. But not before Lester made one more announcement.
“Oh,” he said, “I almost forgot. This really goes without saying, but I will tell you anyway. Absolutely no fighting. Any students on academic probation who are caught fighting are expelled off top. No questions asked. So if you even see somebody fighting, just go the other way.”
I thought Lester would never stop talking. By the time he concluded his speech, my stomach was doing backflips. Sausage pizza never smelled so good.
“I’ll give you a dollar for a slice,” Dub-B said as I walked by.
“Not this time, homie,” I said. “This one is all me.”
When I made it to my room, I noticed Timothy was thumbing through a biology book. I knew I wasn’t going to be using Kat’s tutorial services anymore, so I was going to need all the help I could get passing biology this semester.
“Say, blood,” I said. “How’d you do in biology last semester?”
“I aced it!” he said. “You know that’s my major. I freakin’ love science!”
“Oh, yeah,” I said. “That’s right. I forgot all about that. Man, I might need you to look out for your boy and help me out in that class from time to time this semester.”
“What happened to the tutor you had last semester?”
“Who, Katrina?”
“Yes, that’s her,” he said.
“Man, I ain’t even messing with her like that no more,” I said. “I haven’t even really spoke to her since all that stuff went down last semester. To tell you the truth, I ain’t even tryna be seen with her.”
“I heard about the way everything unfolded,” he said. “That was a very unfortunate situation. I hope you got tested for HIV.”
“Oh, you know I did,” I said. “Thank God, it came back negative.”
“That’s a blessing,” Timothy said. “My father always says you can either have buns or abundance. I dunno, J.D. I mean, I’m not sexually active or anything. You know that. But it just seems like so much trouble comes with…well…you know…”
“No, I don’t know,” I said. “What are you talking about?”
“Buns!” he said. “You have to worry about getting a girl pregnant, contracting an STD. These days, you’re practically risking your life! I think I’m sti
cking with focusing on abundance for now.”
“I never really thought about it like that,” I said.
“But more importantly, to answer your question, you know I don’t have any problem lending a helping hand in biology, if you need it. I’m taking a full load this semester, so my schedule is going to be rather hectic. But as long as you’re willing to study, I’m willing to help.”
“I’ma need that, homie,” I said. “Biology is one of my hardest classes. And I’m on academic probation, so if I don’t get at least a 2.5 GPA…”
“Say no more!” he said. “We’ll meet at the library once a week to study.”
FOUR
BOOKS ON A BUDGET
It wasn’t even noon yet, and the strip was jumpin’. The strip was a narrow street smack-dab in the middle of the yard lined by the library, the student center, dorms and campus buildings. The strip stretched all the way from University of Atlanta’s main campus, past Lighthouse, all the way to Elman’s front gate. In between classes, and sometimes during them, the strip is where all the students hung out. There were so many people congregating in front of the student center, you would’ve thought a step show was going on. As we got closer to the crowd, I saw there was a step show going on. In an impromptu clash of the Greeks, each fraternity and sorority were taking turns showing off their unique partyhops, strolls and chants. I even spotted Timothy in the mix, joining his frat brothers in their call and response. I couldn’t help but notice the way the sorority chicks gawked at him and his crew. It was like pledging had made Timothy a brand-new person.
I looked on with a tinge of jealousy. For some reason, sorority chicks mesmerized me. They came in all sorts of shades and sizes. Some rocked the long hairstyles, others the short dos. But no matter if the colors on their jackets were blue and white, pink and green or crimson and cream, all of them carried a certain mystique about themselves. They walk with a confident air that exudes sexiness and distinction. In my eyes, their attention to detail in their appearance made them stand out. For instance, you would never catch a chick with an APA jacket without her fingernails and toes freshly manicured with French tips. And for some reason, they always smelled fragrant. At least Kat did. And the Deltas were known for dressing sharp. Even without a line jacket on, you could tell a girl was a Delta from a mile away. It was commonplace to see them walking to class in an outfit sharp enough to wear to a Fortune 500 job interview. And they never stepped foot on campus without heels. Not in all cases, but in most, sorority chicks were the cream of the crop. And I was standing right in the thick of it.
Next Semester Page 4
