First Semester (22 page)

THE GRILL

“A
re you going?” Fresh asked.

“Going where?”

“To the probate show.”

“A pro-gay show?” I asked. “You know I ain't into that funny shit.”

“You're crazy, G,” he said, laughing. “I said a
probate
show!”

“I hadn't planned on it,” I said as I sat down on the stoop next to him. “I really need to study for this final for my biology class tomorrow.”

“You're still taking finals?”

“Yeah. I've only got one left to take, though. Thank God! Hey, what's a probate show anyway?”

“You know, when a Greek fraternity or sorority brings a new line out on the yard for the first time,” he said. “It's kind of like a step show, but it's outside. I went to see the Delta Delta Thetas probate show at Chicago State last spring. It was off the chain, folk! And that ain't even an HBCU.”

“Like that?”

“I'm trying to tell you, joe. They had niggas coming out of the woodwork to see that probate show. Man, it was so packed out there I could barely see what was going on.”

“They're having one tonight on our campus?”

“Yes, sir!”

“Who? The Delta Delta Thetas?”

“Nah. Alpha Mu Alpha.”

“I ain't even trippin' on going to see no niggas stepping and all that,” I said.

“You know who their sorority sisters are, right?”

“Nah. Who?”

“The sweet 'n' sexy ladies of Alpha Pi Alpha.”

“So, what time are we going?”

“That's what I thought,” he said laughing. “What time is it now?”

“Seven o'clock.”

“That means the probate starts in six minutes,” he said. “We need to be on our way right now.”

“Where is it at?” I asked, as I followed Fresh.

“Over there in the quadrangle, next to the Greek plots.”

“No wonder I've been seeing so many people walking down that way. I was wondering where everybody was going. I guess I can go over there for a minute and check it out. I've gotta get back to study for this biology test, though, blood. My final grade in that class might be the difference between whether or not I come back next semester. Hold up,” I said as we walked up toward the crowd. “Are you telling me that this is the probate show?”

I'd never seen that many people in the quadrangle in my life. Mostly everybody had either a gold plastic cup in their hand or a black plate with barbecue chicken on it. I could hear the DJ's music blaring over the speakers, but I couldn't see any farther than five feet in front of me. People were standing shoulder to shoulder on the large, grassy area. Before we could make it to the grill, a huge surge of about twelve guys dressed in black three-piece suits and gold masks bulldozed the congregation of people, splitting the large crowd into two sides.

“You said you've never been to a probate before, right?” Fresh asked.

“This is my first one,” I said. “What are they about to do?”

“You'll see,” he said, pointing to the single-file line of guys standing upright with their heads to the sky like military cadets. I lifted my empty wrist to check the time on my watch, but was reminded that my watch was another one of the items stolen from me at gunpoint a week ago. I checked the time on my phone instead. It was seven-oh-six on the dot.

“You wasn't lying about the show starting in six minutes,” I said. “I wonder why they didn't just start it at seven o'clock instead of seven-oh-six.”

“Because their fraternity was founded in 1906. And 1906 is seven-oh-six in military time,” he said.

“How you know all that?” I asked. “I mean, damn! You would think you were on line.”

“You still going to Harvard for grad school, right?” he asked sarcastically.

“Whatever, nigga,” I said. “I see you got jokes.”

I quickly returned my attention to the ceremony. Upperclassmen Alpha Mu Alphas wearing their black and gold jackets paced up and down both sides of the single-file line, pumping the pledges up. Then they ripped their gold masks off, and everybody in the crowd started screaming like they were at a rap concert.

Without hesitation, the guys standing in the line began reciting some shit that sounded like gibberish. I knew that they were saying something important, because the crowd became silent all of a sudden. But their words sounded muffled, because they were breathing so hard and talking so fast. They were speaking as loudly as they could, but they were spitting their sacred words so rapidly it was hard to understand them. I heard bits and pieces.

The guys were lined up in order, from shortest to tallest. The probate show kicked off with each of the guys stating a historical fact. They started at the front and worked their way to the back. The closer they got to the back, the more I heard. The second to last guy in the lineup sounded hella familiar. I couldn't see his face, but I knew that voice. I stepped around to the other side of Fresh to get a better view and damn near fell off the bench when I saw who it was. It was my roommate. I immediately spotted Timothy's parents in the crowd cheering him on. His father was wearing a black and gold A-Mu-A T-shirt with his 1978 line jacket. He looked proud.

“Go on, baby!” his mom screamed.

“That's my boy!” his father yelled.

Timothy spoke with an intensity I never would've guessed he had in him. From where I was standing I could see that his bottom lip was slightly swollen and both of his cheeks were a little puffy. I knew that he could hear his parents screaming. He fed off their energy.

“Alpha Mu Alpha!” he shouted. “A-Mu-A was the first intercollegiate Greek-letter fraternity!”

I'd never really given joining a fraternity much thought. If anything, I figured I'd probably get along with the pretty boys of Kappa Nu Psi the best because they were known around campus for being smooth with the ladies. But aside from all the rumors I'd heard about fraternities, I'd never really done any research of my own. I always looked at Greeks like they thought they were too good for everybody else. But surprisingly, the ceremony was full of humility. And the more Timothy spoke, the harder I listened.

“Brother T-Mac's frat was founded December 1, 1906, on the campus of Cornell University in Ithaca, New York, by seven distinguished college men who recognized the need for a strong bond of brotherhood among African descendants in this country!”

The expression of dignity and honor on Timothy's face was mirrored on his father's. Looking at them was enough to make me wanna join. I guess it was a rite of passage for Timothy. The Alpha Mu Alphas hurried up and down the line of pledges with water bottles, giving them a squirt here and there. I tripped out looking at the faces of the guys in line. I'd seen all of them eating together in the Caf, studying together in the library, but never really put two and two together. As I stared harder, I noticed that something was missing. Actually, somebody. Every time I'd seen them together, there were eight guys. Now there were only seven. Somebody was definitely missing. I just couldn't put my finger on who it was.

After thirty minutes of watching the pledges recite more historical information, clown other fraternities and get their step on, I was in awe. As I stood on top of a bench, I noticed the great lengths people had gone to just to get a good seat. Everybody was taking pictures with their cameras and videotaping the probate show. One guy had climbed a tree so he could tape the show from an aerial view with his handheld camcorder. A few girls perched atop the shoulders of guys to get a better view, while others hung their heads out of their dorm room windows, snapping pictures with their disposable cameras. And just beyond the chaos, about fifty feet away, a guy was sitting on a bench by himself with his head down. At first, I couldn't make out who it was, but the silhouette looked familiar.

“Don't that look like Lawry over there on that bench?” I asked, nudging Fresh.

“It's hard to tell from here,” he said, squinting. “Hold up, joe. Damn, you got some good eyes! That is him. I wonder what he's doing over there.”

“Me too,” I said. “I'ma go see what's up with him.”

“All right,” Fresh said. “I'ma watch the rest of this show. I'll be right here.”

As I made my way through the crowd, I took note of Lawry's body language. He was slumped over, his elbows resting on his knees and his face nestled into his hands.

“Lawry?” I asked cautiously. “Is that you, blood?”

“Yeah, it's me,” he said, in a low, groggy tone.

“What's good with you?” I asked, extending my hand toward his, while sitting down next to him. “How come you ain't watching the probate show with everybody else?”

When he lifted his head to shake my hand, I immediately wished I hadn't. He was wearing shades, but they didn't do his face any justice. He looked like he'd sparred three rounds with Mike Tyson—before dinner. His face was covered with fresh cuts and bruises.

“Whoa!” I said, instinctively leaning away. “What happened to your face, blood?”

“I'm figna hop in my ride and shoot to the gas station and pick up a White Owl so I can roll up a blunt,” he said, completely avoiding my question. “I finally got that raggedy mufucka fixed, shawty. The engine still shakes a little, because I gotta change the timing belt, but I got a new radio. I get all the stations now. You tryna ride?”

“I ain't trying to smoke,” I said. “I gotta stay focused while I'm studying for my finals. But I'll ride with you. What happened to your face, though, blood?”

For the first time since I'd met him, it looked as if Lawry was struggling with what to say. Every time he tried to speak, he froze up.

“It's my pops,” he said, returning to his slouched position. “He don't know. He think he know, but he don't.”

“What you mean?”

“You know I was s'posed to be on line, right?”

“Damn, that's crazy. I was just over there at the probate show. I had a feeling somebody was missing. What happened?”

“My pops, shawty.”

“What about him?”

“You know he's a Q, right?”

“That's right, you did say that.”

“When he found out I was pledging Alpha Mu Alpha, he damn near had a heart attack. My mom has seven brothers and five of them pledged A-Mu-A, so I didn't think he would trip like that. But he said he ain't wanna have nothing else to do with me if I crossed. And he's dead serious. He told me I wouldn't even be welcome at home if I did.”

“Damn, that's deep. I didn't even know people take pledging that serious, cousin.”

“It's crazy, 'cause I done put up with so much shit this semester. I really humbled myself, shawty. I mean, these dudes were on some real ignorant shit. I done did some shit that you couldn't even imagine, just to be accepted.”

“Sounds like your pops is on some other shit.”

“It's to the point where even if I wanted to pledge Q, I couldn't because they're suspended for the next five years for hazing.”

“How come you ain't tell him that?”

“I did! He still wasn't trying to hear it. He's just stubborn as hell, shawty,” he said, burying his face in his hands and shaking his head.

“Don't you have to be at least a sophomore to pledge anyway?”

“You're supposed to, but I already had enough credits from those classes I took in summer school.”

“Oh yeah, that's right. I forgot all about that.”

“I just can't believe I went through nine weeks, thirteen days, eight hours, thirty-five minutes and twenty-two seconds of bullshit, just to drop line one week before we crossed. I just came out here because I wanted to be there for my line brothers. Well, I guess I can't even call them that anymore. But we went through a lot together. I just wanted to show up, so I could show them that I still had love for them. I tried to go over there, but this is as close as my feet would take me, shawty. I couldn't even look at that probate show. I can't lie. A nigga probably would've broke down.”

“You said nine
weeks?
”

“Nine weeks, thirteen days, eight hours, thirty-five minutes and twenty-two seconds, shawty. That seemed like forever to me. I don't know how the rest of 'em made it through hell week alive.”

“It was that bad?”

“We got worn out so bad the night before, niggas couldn't even sit down. My ass is still swollen.”

“Hell naw,” I said, shaking my head. “Y'all had to get beat in? I always thought that was some movie-type shit. I never knew that's how it was really going down. That sounds like joining a gang. Did y'all do something wrong or is that just part of the initiation?”

“To be real with you, I don't even know,” he said. “Half the time it was on some trick-question-type shit. I think they just liked to play mind games with us.”