First Semester (11 page)

“At first, I wasn't even going to ask you for your locker combination, but I can see we need to exchange digits so that we can get better acquainted. And the name is
J.D
., baby.”

“Locker combination?” she said, with a look of confusion. “What's that, my phone number?”

“You know it,” I said, flipping my phone open in preparation.

“That's a new one. It's actually kinda cute. But I've really got to go.”

By this time, I figured I had her on my line. I couldn't let her get away without at least trying to reel her in. “Well, before you leave, what's up with an e-mail address or something? I just want to get to know you.”

“You're a cutie. But I don't think that would be a very good idea.”

“Why's that?”

“I admire your persistence,” she said, looking me in the eye for the first time. “What's your classification?”

“What you mean? I'm straight. I ain't with that funny shit.”

She laughed again. “I mean, what year are you?”

“I'm twenty,” I said, tacking on a few extra years, just in case.

“No, I mean what
grade
are you in?”

“Oh. I'll be a sophomore next year,” I said, trying hard to avoid saying the word “freshman.” “But what does that have to do with me giving you a call?”

“I don't give my number to freshmen,” she said as she began walking away. She looked over her shoulder and smiled. “But I've really got to be somewhere, so I'll holla.”

I think my uncle Leroy said it best—I hated to see her go but loved watching her walk away. As much as I would've loved to have her number, at least she knew my name now. I stood there in a sort of daze, just admiring her ass twitch. I had my back turned to Fresh and Dub-B, but I knew they were watching me in my moment of despair. I tried not to wear my emotions on my face, but I guess I didn't try hard enough. I turned around when I felt someone's hand on my shoulder. It was Fresh.

“You need some help picking up the pieces, joe?” he asked.

“What pieces?”

“The pieces of your face that just fell on the ground,” he said, laughing. “She ain't even have to play my boy out like that. I didn't appreciate that, fam-o. That wasn't even kosher.”

“She just ain't never seen a real pretty thug in the flesh before,” I said as Fresh spun me around by my shoulder, and I followed him back to the stoop.

“You think he's hittin' that?” Fresh asked.

“Who?”

“Who you think? Dr. J, fool.”

“Oh, boy,” I said, accidentally visualizing Dr. J pulling Kat's tank top over her head, then unzipping her skirt. “Ain't no telling, blood.”

“Dr. J as smooth as they come, though, kid,” Dub-B added. “You know he be bumpin' mad honeys, yo. He's probably splitting that ripe banana. I know I would.”

The girl braiding his hair was about two rows away from being finished. But she was still frustrated.

“I wish you would quit moving so I can get done,” she said.

Just as the girl put on the finishing touches, V-Man stood on one of the cement benches and announced that the firemen were fed up with people crying wolf, and threatened to take away our visitation rights for the rest of the semester if they had to respond to one more false alarm.

But V-man's threats paled in comparison to the feeling of rejection I suppose Fresh could still see written all over my face.

“Ain't no slackin' in your mackin', pimp,” he said. “Hey, my uncle Bishop Don Magic Juan always says you miss one hundred percent of the shots you don't take. And I ain't ever seen a man catch a fish without casting his pole in the water. I saw you get shot down. But I also saw half the females out here all in your mix when you were choppin' it up with ol' baby. Just know that for every ‘no' you get, two ‘yeses' are on the way.”

“Fa sho,” I said, confirming Fresh's philosophy. I'd probably never tell him, but although I already knew that, I needed to hear it—for my swagger's sake.

“So, what you about to get into, joe?” he asked. “I'm probably 'bout to go back up to my room and get on the sticks for a minute.”

“You got that new
Madden
on
PlayStation?
”

“You already know. Why? You trying to come get whooped up?”

“I really got some homework I need to be knocking out. But I guess I can come mop you up real quick.”

“Okay, now,” he said. “Don't let your mouth write a check that your ass can't cash!”

“Who you running with?”

“Don't be a fool. You know I'm coming with my Chicago Bears. Their defense is nasty.”

“You're gonna have to score some points to beat me, though. Since you're staying with your hometown squad, I guess I'm gonna have to massacre you with the Raiders.”

“Well, I'm figna set up the game. You know where I'll be when you're ready for that ass-whippin'!”

After Fresh bounced, the crowd slowly disappeared as guys began making their way back into the dorm one by one. On the way inside, I noticed Timothy sitting on one of the cement benches with his legs crossed and his head in a book. He was wearing the free T-shirt that we were given in our registration packets, a pair of what looked like his little brother's khaki shorts and some Birkenstock sandals. I had a good mind to walk right by him, but something told me to stop and say what's up.

“What up, blood?” I asked, extending my balled-up fist for him to dap me up.

He looked up and slapped my fist with an open hand, as if he was trying to shake my hand. Poor Timothy was as confused as they came. Maybe he didn't know any better. I just shook my head in disgust.

“What you reading, square?” I asked.

“What?” he said, frowning his face up as if I were a disturbance.

“I said, what are you reading there?”

“The New Testament,” he said before unzipping the pouch he had strapped to his waist and pulling out a yellow highlighter.

“Man, you be on them scriptures real tough, blood,” I said. “You're really into that Bible, huh?”

“I don't see how you can function without it,” he said.

“You must've grown up in the church,” I said.

“I did,” he said. “But I know lots of people who didn't who still believe in the Bible.”

“It's not that I don't believe in the Bible,” I said. “I mean, I went to church when I was growing up too—mostly on Easter Sunday and Christmas—but I went.”

“If that's the case, you should be a believer.”

“I am. I mean, I think I am. I guess. I don't know. I believe in Jesus and all that, but I just have my questions about it all, you know? I mean, the Bible was written like ten thousand years ago. I just don't see how I can apply a lot of the stuff in there to real-life situations that are going on in the world today.”

“Are you kidding me?” he asked. “The Word is directly applicable to everything going on in the world today. Everything you've gone through, everything you're going through, and everything you can possibly go through is already written somewhere in that Bible. You just have to be diligent enough to seek that knowledge. In fact, I never study anything without it right by my side.”

“Really? Why not?”

“It's just kind of reassuring, I suppose. It reminds me that all things are possible through Christ who strengthens me.”

“Oh, boy!” I said. “Whoa! That was deep. But you know the Bible was written by
man,
right?”

“Yeah, and so is
King
magazine, but you read that all the time. And you believe everything they write about the rappers in
The Source
too, don't you?”

“You've got a point there, blood,” I said.

“Speaking of a point, I'm about to go to the library to work on a PowerPoint presentation for my Comparative Religion class.”

“I almost signed up for that class. How is it?”

“It's relatively interesting,” he said. “The professor primarily discusses the origin and philosophies of a variation of religions, in addition to the societal contributions of various denominations.”

“So basically, y'all be talking about church up in there?”

“One could say that. Hey, while I'm at the library, I'm going to study for our first biology quiz too. I generally prefer to read the Word before I study. It helps me focus. Would you like to join me?”

Even though I knew I could use the study session, playing
Madden
with Fresh just sounded like a better way to pass the time than reviewing biology notes with Timothy.

“I would, but I just told Fresh I was going to meet him in his room to beat him in this video game,” I said.

“Are you sure?” Timothy asked. “You know we only have three quizzes in his class before the final, and they make up thirty percent of your grade. It was written in the syllabus that he gave out the first day of class.”

“You read that?”

“Sure I did. It was only seven pages.”

“Man, you be all over it, blood. I bet you had straight A's in high school, huh?”

“I actually got two B's, one in my gym class my freshman year, and one in driver's ed my senior year,” he said, with a frown. “Those doggone grades actually brought my GPA down to a 3.987. But I was still valedictorian of my class.”

“That's what's up.”

“So, what do ya say the two of us head down to the library and review some of my biology notes?”

“I'm going to study on my own a little later on,” I said, turning to walk away. “Maybe next time.”

CLUB WOODY

M
y Mom called me every single day for the first couple of weeks I was at school. But I guess since I'd been away for a month, she figured I'd adjusted, so she didn't need to call every five minutes. Now, when she called, it seemed like we always had more to talk about. She'd tell me how pumped Robyn was to be the only sophomore who made the varsity cheerleading squad and how much she couldn't stand her new boss at her job. But what I loved to hear most was my mom's hood update.

“And your friends ain't doing nothin',” she'd say. “I see 'em hanging out right there on 106th and Foothill on my way to work every day doing the same thing they were doing before you left. They just stand out there in the cold on that same corner, smoking the same weed and slangin' the same drugs to the same fiends, like don't nobody know what they're doing. I thank God every day you got out of here, J.D.”

“So do I, Mom,” I said. “So do I. I just wish some of my boys could be out here with me—especially Todd.”

“Now that's my boy, right there. I hope the two of you stay close, even though you're at two different schools. When is the last time you talked to him?”

“We're down for life. I just talked to him earlier today.”

“How's he doing up there at Crampton?”

“He said he loves it up there. Todd fits in everywhere, though. He said he's still trying to adjust to balancing football practice with studying, but other than that, he's cool. He didn't say it, but he sounded a little homesick to me.”

“What about you? You miss home yet?”

“Nah. Not really. I mean, I miss you, Robyn, Grandma and a few of the homies, but I don't really miss Oakland like that. Not yet, at least. I do miss Keisha, though.”

I guess my mom could tell I had a heavy heart about Keisha, because she kept trying to give me advice about the situation.

“Breaking up with Keisha may have been a good idea after all, J.D.,” she said. “I've got love for that girl, but I think she's being a little selfish. At your age, you don't need to be serious with no female anyway. When I got serious with your father in my freshman year, I wound up getting pregnant with you and dropping out of school. I don't regret any of the decisions I've made, but I see more in you. You don't have time to worry about no girls back home when you're in Atlanta with all them girls anyway.”

“How you know about the females out here, Mom?”

“For one, let's not forget who dropped you off at school. I saw all them fast-ass girls eyeballing you. Plus, the night before I left I went to this club on Peachtree Street. It was off the hook! Jamie Foxx was in there with his big, fine, sexy self.”

“All right, I ain't tryin' to hear all that.”

“Okay, well, let's change the subject, then.”

“Sounds like a plan.”

“How did you do on your first biology quiz?”

“So you said Jamie Foxx was up in the club, huh?” I asked, trying to switch the subject back.

There was no way I could tell her that I'd completely forgotten to set my alarm clock, and slept in so late that by the time I made it to the class Professor Obugata wouldn't let me take my first exam.

“Who else was up in there?” I asked.

“Oh, I thought we were done talking about the club. I know I am. So, what's up with the quiz score, bruh?”

An incoming call from that sexy secretary in the Tutorial Center office shortened our conversation and temporarily saved my life.

“Mom, this is the lady in the tutorial office on the other line calling in. Let me call you back.”

“Yeah, right,” she said. “Give me a break, J.D. I just got off the plane, not the boat. Keep it real, playa. The
tutorial office?
”

“I'm serious, Mom,” I said. “Let me catch this lady before she hangs up. Gotta go. Love you. 'Bye.”

“Love you too,” she said, just before I clicked over.

The secretary was calling to remind me that my first session with my tutor, Ms. Turner, would be starting in thirty minutes in the library. I was relieved that my tutor was a female, and hoped she'd be cute. With a few sprays of cologne, I was headed down the strip, toward the library. I had never even been inside the library before. I remembered what Fats had said about Woodruff Library being called “Club Woody” because it was the social melting pot for students in the AUC. As I walked to where I was supposed to meet my tutor, all I could think was Fats was definitely a man of his word. The library was crawling with females. Everybody was sitting in front of their open textbooks, but few were actually studying them.

Some of my apprehension was relieved when I saw other guys from Marshall Hall being tutored. To my surprise, I saw Lawry sitting at one of the tables in the far corner with seven other guys, most of whom I didn't recognize. As I approached their table, none of the guys even looked up. They seemed to be the only group of guys in the library actually studying their notes. When I got close enough to tap Lawry on the back of his head, the guy sitting across from him looked up hurriedly and covered his notes, as if I was coming over to secretly copy off him. All of the other guys, strangely, followed suit. At second glance, I realized the guy who sparked the group's paranoia was Timothy.

“I should've known,” I said jokingly. “Ain't nobody trying to copy off of your paper, blood.”

“Oh, what up, J.D?” Timothy said, sticking out a balled-up fist to dap me up.

“What up, huh?” I said, extending my fist to give him a pound with a confused look on my face.

“I mean, what's good? What you up to?” he said in a hurried tone, seemingly annoyed by my presence.

I noticed that all of the guys sitting at the table were wearing khakis, black dress shirts and penny loafers. And oddly, none of them had returned their attention toward their studies. All of them were kind of just looking around in a daze.

“Oh, boy!” I said. “You're dapping people up now? Saying ‘what's good?' What y'all studying, ebonics?”

All of the guys laughed halfheartedly.

“Something like that,” Lawry said. “This class we taking ain't no joke. The professor got us in study groups already. We got a big test coming up.”

“Your professor makes y'all dress alike too?” I asked nosily.

“Nah, shawty,” Lawry said. “See, we're supposed to be in a corporation so…it's like we're running a business so…”

Timothy finished his sentence. “So we have to look professional.”

“Well, remind me not to sign up for that class next semester,” I said with a laugh. “I'll let y'all get back to it. I got some studying to do myself.”

I thought a few of the guys sitting at the table looked a little old to be taking a freshman course. But I shrugged it off as I made my way to an empty seat, nodding my head at a few people I recognized from my classes on my way.

I began nibbling on my fingernails nervously as I looked around in search of my academic savior. I'd been sitting all of sixty seconds when I felt someone tap me on my left shoulder and faintly whisper, “Are you James Dawson?”

When I turned to look over my left shoulder to see who it was, nobody was there. When I looked to my right, the one person on campus I would personally have selected to be sitting in the chair next to me was sitting there. It was Katrina.

“So you need a little assistance in First Year Seminar, huh?” she asked.

I was so happy and didn't know what to say. I couldn't believe Ms. Turner was really fine-ass Kat. The irony of the situation made me take a look around and smile. I saw the envious eyes of guys looking up from their textbooks to glare in my direction. Of all the possible tutors on campus, something told me I got the pick of the litter.

“A little help in First Year Seminar wouldn't hurt,” I said. “But then again, chemistry is always important.”

“You signed up for help in Dr. J's class, and that's what I'm here to assist you with, so let's get to it,” she said as she removed her pink and green line jacket and slipped it over the back of her chair.

“This isn't a sprint, it's a marathon,” I said, with a hint of seduction in my voice. “Take your time, sweetheart. This tutorial could take all night.”

“I don't have that long.”

“I'll be here as long as it takes.”

“What's up with you?” she asked. “Are we still talking about this tutorial session or what?”

“I was,” I said, sounding surprised. “I don't know what you're thinking about. Get your mind out of the gutter.”

“That's you!” she said.

“Didn't say that it wasn't. But I'm a Scorpio. I can't help it. What's your excuse?”

“I don't need one.”

“Good. Excuses expose your weaknesses.”

“Where do you get this stuff? Are you sure you're a freshman? You would think you were older than twenty.”

“Don't trip, baby, my age is catching up to me,” I said as I dug my First Year Seminar book out of my backpack.

“Can't say that I've heard that one before,” she said, giggling. “You're something else with these one-liners!”

“Judging by your line name, obviously somebody must think the same thing about you, Miss Overdose.”

“Yep, you're right,” she said. “I'm too much for you. Now, let's get down to business.”

Kat whipped out her class schedule and asked for mine so she could set up study session hours that worked for both of us. I'm glad she did, because if she hadn't, I might have gone all semester without ever knowing we were in the same biology class. There had to be at least one hundred students in that class. She told me that she'd waited three years to take biology because she didn't like science, but she needed to take the class to meet her graduation requirements. I tried to act like I was interested, but realistically, I couldn't care less. I knew I could kill three birds with one stone if I played my cards right. I could ace First Year Seminar and biology and come away with the queen of the deck. My mojo was definitely working, because her conversation went from “What could a freshman ever do for me?” to “You are kinda cute for a freshman,” by the end of the study session. It was definitely time for me to take a second stab at asking for her number.

“So, what you got up for tonight?” I asked.

“I'm probably going to study for our next biology quiz. You know we only have two more before the midterm. That first one was kind of rough. How did you do?”

“I don't even want to say,” I said.

“C'mon, just tell me. I don't think anybody did that well. At least, I didn't.”

“What did you get?”

“A dang eighty-four.”

“Since when has an eighty-four been a bad grade?”

“Since third grade, when I got in trouble for bringing home a B on my report card,” she said. “Haven't had one since. I was traumatized when I saw that grade last week.”

“I need to be studying with you more often,” I said.

“Why, what did you get?”

“Man, I messed around and slept right through that quiz,” I said. “Well, actually, I woke up right before class was just about over, but the teacher wouldn't let me in.”

“Oh, that was you arguing with Professor Obugata at the door?”

“Yeah.”

“I was wondering who that was,” she said, laughing.

“He could've let me take that test. He was hating. What's so funny?”

“I'm just laughing at the way he came back from the door mumbling to himself. You know it's hard to understand what he's talking about anyway, but when he gets frustrated, it's even funnier. I wish you could've seen it. You really ruffled his feathers.”

Just then my cell phone rang. I tried to search for it and silence the Tupac “I Get Around” ring tone that was blasting from my pocket. When I finally got to it, I was happy to see who was calling.

“Robyn!” I said aloud, completely inconsiderate of others studying nearby. Kat nudged me as a reminder. I continued in a softer tone. “What's crackin'? I haven't heard from you in a minute. What you been up to?”

“I've got good news,” she said. “You won't believe it!”

“What?”

“I passed my test today!”

“What test?”

“At the DMV, silly. I got my driver's license today!”

“You did? Good for you! Did they give you an address that I can send my license to? If you're going to be on the road, I need to surrender my driver's license right away. I hope they've got some good deals on bus passes.”

“Whatever!” she said. “Don't hate.”

“I ain't hating. I guess I know who will be picking me up from the airport now. You just make sure the seat belts are working in whatever car you pick me up in.”