First Semester (23 page)

“Like what?”

“I really shouldn't even be telling you no shit like this,” he said. “You my boy and all, but that shit is sacred. You gotta swear to God you won't say nothing, if I tell you.”

“C'mon now,” I said. “Don't even play me like that. You know I ain't gonna say shit to nobody. That's on my mama.”

“All right. Well, this one time we at the spot, and one of the niggas asked me some shit like, ‘If your mama, Jesus and an Alpha Mu Alpha man were in a burning building, and you could only save one, who would you save?'”

“That's a rough one,” I said. “I'd definitely have to go with my mama, though.”

“That's what I said, shawty! I figured if Jesus could walk on water, he could find his way out of a burning building.”

“So, what did they say?”

“It ain't what they said, it's what they did!”

“It was that bad?”

“Don't you remember how I was taking the final in Dr. J's class? I was standing up!” he said. “My ass was so sore I couldn't sit down! My ass is still swollen.”

“Oh yeah,” I said, scratching my head. “That's right. Come to think of it, Timothy was standing up too. They must've really fucked you guys up.”

“Pledging ain't no joke,” Lawry said.

“Damn,” I said. “So, what was the right answer to the question they asked you?”

“What's so cold is, I don't even think there was a right answer, shawty.”

“On some real shit, if I would've gone through all of that to rock them letters, a nigga like me probably would've had to just go ahead and finish.”

“I wanted to, shawty,” he said, wiping a tear off his cheek with his sleeve. “Believe me. I wanted to.”

I'd never seen him cry. Nine weeks, eight hours, thirty-five minutes and twenty-two seconds—all for nothing, I thought.

“C'mon, let's make a move, shawty,” he said, using his white tee to wipe his face. “Sitting out here is making me sick to my stomach now.”

“We can make it happen. Let me go over here and let Fresh know we're bouncing.”

“I'll come with you,” he said.

As we made our way back toward Fresh, a huge crowd began to form in a circle across the yard. There were hella people leaving the probate show to see what was going on. When I saw Fresh jump down from the bench and head in that direction, I followed. When Lawry and I pushed through the crowd to see what all the fuss was about, I saw Downtown-D standing in the middle. I thought to myself,
Why am I not surprised?
There was a girl standing on her tippy-toes pointing her finger in his face, but I couldn't see her face because she was standing with her back to me. She was hella animated and obviously pissed off about something. I jumped on top of the bench I was standing in front of, and Fresh followed.

“Ahh, shit, joe,” Fresh said. “Ain't that your girl Katrina?”

“Is that her?” I said, taking a closer look. “Damn. That sure is her, blood.”

At that moment, Downtown-D started walking toward the bench I was standing on, attempting to walk away. Instead of letting him leave, Kat ran around his back, grabbed him by his forearm and pulled as hard as she could, spinning him around. When I saw that Kat was doing the finger-pointing, I wasn't surprised. But when I saw the agony in her face and heard the despair in her voice, I became concerned.

“I need to talk to you in private,” Kat said in a disturbing tone, inching closer to Downtown-D. He was standing in a cocky, bowlegged stance, with his back straight and feet spread wide apart.

“I think you need to chill out, baby,” Downtown-D said in a relaxed manner. “Chill out. Can't you see me Kool-Aiding with my patnas? We'll talk later.”

“This can't wait!” Kat shouted, as moisture welled up in her eyes and she fought back tears. “I need to talk to you now!”

The crowd surrounding their argument continued to grow. The word must've spread that Downtown-D was about to publicly call it off with Kat, because a majority of the crowd were females.

“Be easy, baby,” he said, maintaining his cool. “I'ma rap with my boys, and then I'll holla at you, all right?”

In the middle of the heated argument, Downtown-D unsnapped his Sidekick from its holster on his hip, switched on the backlight and held it up to his face as he read an incoming message. He wasn't paying Kat any attention. He started chopping up game with some of the other members of the football team who were standing behind him. But by keeping his composure and playing Kat to the left, Downtown-D was actually further irritating her. Misery loves company.

“Deiondre Randolph Harris!” she said, grabbing his wrists and pulling his Sidekick down from his face. She was laughing, but tears were streaming from her eyes. “I can't believe you're playing me in front of everybody like this. I've got something really important to tell you.”

“Randolph?” somebody in the crowd asked jokingly. Everybody who heard started busting out laughing. For the first time since I'd met him, Downtown-D looked embarrassed. He was human. He was also frustrated and increasingly angry.

“Can't we talk about this another time?” he asked.

“We need to talk about this right now!”

“Well, talk.”

“Not in front of all of these people. In private, Dre!”

“Whatever you've got to say to me, you can say it right now!” He motioned toward the football players standing behind him. “These guys are my family. Whatever you've got to tell me you can tell them too.”

“This is already hard enough for me as it is,” she said, bursting out in tears. “Why would you make it harder? You know what? Since you want to act like an ass, forget I even tried to warn you. I guess you'll just have to find out for yourself.”

She tried to wipe the tears from her eyes, but they kept falling. Downtown-D returned his attention to the text message on his two-way.

“She must be pregnant!” somebody in the back of the crowd blurted out.

An uproar of “oohs” and “aahs” came from the crowd. Then, suddenly, a somber aura fell over the onlookers. I think it's safe to say most people felt sorry for her—but not everybody. I saw more than a few females perk up at the sight of Kat's despair. I looked at them and shook my head.

“That's bogus,” Fresh said. “He didn't even have to play her out like that, G. You think she's pregnant, though?”

“I hope not,” I said, taking a deep breath.

Kat had been in such a rage I don't think she realized she'd drawn such a large audience. Her eyes quickly surveyed the crowd, eventually landing right on me. That's when it seemed like Kat's condition went from bad to worse. Her eyes teared as if she'd eaten an onion whole. Anguish riddled her body. Her bottom lip quivered and her nose was running. I'd never seen her look worse. She just stood there with her arms wrapped around herself, rocking back and forth, trembling uncontrollably. She looked like she had more to say. If she was pregnant, I'd never seen someone that broken about it before.

With tears rolling down her cheeks, Kat took off running toward her dorm. I wanted to chase her, but my legs wouldn't move. I wanted to call her back, but my mouth wouldn't open. I didn't know whether to stay mad at her or feel sorry for her. At that point, the only thing I knew for sure was that my heart was with Kat. The only reason I'd gotten so upset with her in the first place is that my feelings for her were so deep. I couldn't conceal my emotions anymore. She obviously had some things to say to me, and I didn't want to fly home without getting some things off my chest. I had questions. I decided to head over to Kat's place for answers. I didn't want to end my first semester with a heavy conscience.

“After we hit the gas station, you mind dropping me off at the Heritage Commons?” I asked.

“You know somebody who stays up in there?” Lawry asked.

I never answered. I just looked at him again. I didn't have to tell him who I was going to see. My facial expression said it all.

TESTED

I
couldn't convince Lawry to wait for me in the car. He said that he hadn't been in an upperclassman dorm all semester, and there was no way he was going to winter break without at least seeing what the inside of their dorms looked like.

“Man, it's nice in here,” Lawry said once we were inside the elevator, sounding like an underprivileged child from a Third World country. “You didn't tell me they had elevators.”

I paid no attention to Lawry's ignorant comments. I was focused. As the elevator slowly ascended to the third floor, I tried my best to clear my mind of all the bullshit I'd been through the last few weeks. I went over what I was going to say to Kat in my head and convinced myself that I would be quiet long enough to listen to what she had to say. When I stepped off the elevator, my heart rate increased like I'd just sniffed ten lines of uncut cocaine. I could literally feel it thumping through my linen shirt. Nervousness had officially sunk in. I placed my thumb in my mouth and started nibbling at my fingernail. Apparently I was incoherent, because I hadn't moved since I stepped off the elevator.

“Which way, shawty?” Lawry asked, nudging me on my shoulder. “You're gonna have to snap out of it. She's got you whipped like that?”

“Never that,” I said, regaining my essence. I started walking toward Kat's room. “It's this way, blood.”

The stretch of hallway leading to Kat's room had never looked so long. Her door looked like it was a mile away. My stomach was doing backflips. But these weren't your average butterflies—they were full-grown pigeons. It was the longest hallway I've ever walked down in my life. Kat's door was getting closer and closer, but I was in no rush to get there. Lawry didn't even know which room we were walking to, and he was a half hallway ahead of me. He turned around when he realized I was walking at a snail's pace.

“When are you leaving to go back home?” Lawry asked.

“I'm leaving tomorrow afternoon. Why?”

“If you keep walking that slow you're gonna miss your damn flight. C'mon!”

I sped up from snail to turtle. I thought about walking faster but my head and my legs weren't on the same page. I felt like a serial killer, condemned to capital punishment, walking that last mile to the electric chair. I was just waiting for someone to yell out, “Dead man walking!”

When I got to Kat's door, I had a sudden change of heart. I hadn't called, and didn't quite know what to expect. I'd completely forgotten everything I'd prepared to say to her in my head. So instead of knocking I stood there, staring at the room number on her door. As I stood there, a barrage of questions ambushed my psyche. What would I say? How would she react? What if the baby was mine? What if Downtown-D was already inside? Apparently, my moment of insecurity was as obvious as my heartache.

“Are you gonna sit on the pot or shit on the pot?” Lawry asked impatiently. “I mean, is it barbecue or mildew with you? I could've stayed in the car for this.”

I started to remind him of the fact that nobody asked him to come in the first place. Then I thought about just turning around, walking back to my dorm and packing up my things. By the time I thought about knocking on Kat's door, Lawry had already beaten me to it.

“Hey, if you won't, I will,” he said. “I didn't ride the elevator all the way up here for nothing.”

Before I could utter a reply the door swung open. Some short, big-boned, dark-skinned girl wearing a red do-rag, gray sweatpants and a white T-shirt with a yellow mustard stain on it opened the door. I had no idea who she was. I wasn't thinking sensibly. I tried to push the door open and walk by her, but she stuck her plump forearm out and stopped me.

“Excuse me,” she said, rolling her eyes with an attitude. “Can I help you?”

“I'm here to see Kat,” I said.

“Could you be referring to Katrina?”

I wasn't in the mood for entertaining her sarcasm. I just stood there, looking at her like she was slow.

“H-e-l-l-o?” she asked in a joking manner. She started talking hella slow, wiggling her fingers like she was doing sign language. “Did you want to see K-a-t-r-i-n-a or not?”

Lawry must've known I was figna tell shorty doo-wop about herself, because he spoke up before I could, with desperation in his voice.

“Yes, shawty. Is she here?”

“That depends on who you are. What's your name? And what happened to your face?”

“Who are you, the police? I mean, damn, shawty, you ask more questions than Oprah. What yo name is?”

“You're trying to come up in my room, nigga,” she said, putting her hand on her hip. “Name please.”

“I'm Lawry,” he said.

The girl laughed. “
Lawry?
That is so country.”

“Well, what yo name is?” Lawry asked, sounding offended.

“What my name is?”
she asked, mockingly. “I know you're from Atlanta, talking like that. I'm Jessica.”

“Well, Jessica, we're here to see Kat,” Lawry said.

“Y'all smell like weed. You been smoking?”

“Can you just please check and see if Kat is here?” I asked.

“Hold on. Let me check,” she said, closing the door.

She was so lazy she didn't even walk to Kat's room. She just stood there, yelling from the door. We could hear every word.

“K-a-t-r-i-n-a! Kat! There are two guys at the door who want to see you. One of 'em is named Lawry—he's the one with gold teeth, a black eye and bad breath. The other one is cute, but I think he's crazy!”

Two seconds later, the door flung open again and a cloud of smoke seeped out. I didn't see the little tree stump who'd initially opened the door. This time she just pulled the door open and ran to the kitchen.

“Close the door behind you,” Jessica said. “Y'all got me burning my pork chops!”

I walked inside, fanning the smoke with my hand. I tried to close the door with my other hand, but struggled. I tried to push it with both hands, but it wouldn't close any faster.

“What's wrong with your door?” I asked.

“The hinges are broken,” Jessica said, trotting back into the kitchen. “That thing takes forever to close, no matter how hard you push it. Y'all almost made me burn my kitchen down.” She was fanning smoke with her hand. “Lawry, if you want, you can have a seat in the living room.”

“I think I'll do that,” he said.

“I'll be right back,” I assured him.

The door to Kat's room was closed. That wasn't a good sign. If she knew I was coming in, why didn't she have it open? I took a deep breath before I knocked.

“Who is it?” she asked.

“J.D.”

“Hold on.”

It took about twenty seconds before the door finally squeaked open. I took in another deep gasp of air, bigger than that of an Olympic swimmer before jumping off the high dive into the deep end of a pool. At the time, I had no idea I would need all of the oxygen.

The second I stepped into Kat's room my phone rang. It was Todd. I quickly answered, told him I'd hit him back in a few. It wasn't until I hung up the phone that I noticed how out of place Kat's room looked. I felt like I was in
The Twilight Zone
or something. Her TV, radio and computer were off. All the pictures of her family and sorority sisters on her nightstand were now lying facedown. Her backpack was wide open and her textbooks were scattered all over the floor. She was sitting on her bed, her legs folded Indian style. She was holding a box of tissues. Her hair was pulled back into a rough ponytail. Both of her eyes were swollen, black and puffy. She looked like she'd just come from her mother's funeral. There was a piece of paper lying at the foot of her bedspread. When I touched the paper to move it aside so I could sit down, her entire body shuddered. Before I could move it, she quickly pushed it aside herself. She was sniffling and tears dripped continuously. Her trembles sent sinister vibrations down the bedspread toward me. Her body shook relentlessly, as if she was suffering from hypothermia. She couldn't even look me in the eye.

“So, I guess you heard the news, huh?” she asked in the solemnest of voices, in between sniffles.

“Nothing specific,” I said, tossing my phone onto her bed and plopping down next to it. “What's up?”

“Please don't look at me, J.D.,” she said. “You're going to make this harder than it already is.”

At that moment I contemplated the worst-case scenario: I was going to be a teenage father and have a baby with good hair. I'd have to drop out of school to work full-time at FedEx lifting boxes to buy Pampers and baby food.

“Make
what
worse than it is?” I asked, hesitantly.

“Well, remember when I said I had something to tell you?”

Here it comes
, I thought. “Uh-huh.”

“Well, I've been feeling a little under the weather lately. So I went to see a doctor a little over a week ago to get checked out…and…I don't even know how to say this,” she said, putting her hands over her face. “J.D., I'm…I'm…”

“You're pregnant?”

Kat didn't respond. Instead, she just sat there, her face still collapsed in her palms.

“Hey, nobody is perfect,” I said, wrapping my arm around her and rubbing her shoulder. “I mean, don't get me wrong. I'm not exactly ready to be a father, but everything happens for a reason. We all make mistakes. We just have to be grown enough to take responsibility for them.”

“I didn't want anything from you, J.D.!” she said, completely flipping the script. “I just needed a shoulder to cry on—somebody to talk to. And you couldn't even call me back. You hurt me!”

For a second, I wondered what the hell that comment had to do with her being pregnant. Then I figured she was just being emotional. And as much as I hated to show my vulnerable side to females, somehow in the heat of the discussion it leaked.

“Hey, you hurt me too,” I said, putting the guilt trip right back on her shoulders where it belonged. “I thought we had something special, but I guess I was wrong.”

“What are you talking about?”

“I'm talking about the night you were supposedly helping your grandma move, but I saw you hugged up with your guy outside my favorite restaurant.”

Evidently she didn't see that one coming. She just sat there for a few seconds, with this dumbfounded look on her face.

“How did you—”

I cut her off like a car going too slowly on the freeway. “Don't worry about how I knew that. I ain't new to this, I grew to this. C'mon now, I was born at night, not last night.”

“I'm sorry you had to find out about that,” she said, with sincerity in her voice. “I really am. But you could've called me back and given me a chance to apologize and explain.”

“Call back for what? At that point, I figured an apology was useless. I just assumed it was over between us. Plus, I didn't know you were having my baby. It is mine, right?”

“That's not even the reason I was calling you,” she said, abruptly avoiding my question once again. “I'm not pregnant, J.D.”

“You're not?”

“No.”

“Well, you were blowing me up for some reason, passing notes in class and all that. What could've been so important?”

The shivering returned. Her hands and legs quivered uncontrollably, and she nibbled her lip. I noticed beads of sweat congregating atop her forehead. It looked like she could go into a full-blown seizure at any second. She hadn't looked me in the eye since I'd been in her room. She was seriously starting to scare me.

“What's wrong with you?” I asked.

“I got my test back, J.D.,” she said, grabbing the piece of paper that she'd moved to let me sit down on her bed.

This time when she touched the paper, her fingers fluttered so vigorously she dropped it. I watched it slowly drift from her hand back down to the bedspread. When I reached for the paper, her hand covered mine and she pressed down as hard as she could. My hand trembled underneath hers. When I tried to move it, she tightened her grip. When I looked up into Kat's eyes, I didn't see the glow that I'd fallen for—the radiance that I would have given anything for to wake up next to every morning for the rest of my life. Instead, I saw fear. It was warm in Kat's room, but her palm was ice-cold. It wasn't the same hand that I'd dreamed about holding while walking through the mall. Her hand felt the same way my grandfather's did as I held it just before he died of cancer. I felt a hopelessness that preceded death.

“Is this about that microeconomics class you're always complaining about?” I asked. “I know you're on the dean's list and all that, but you can't be this upset about a stupid test grade.”

“You don't understand!” she screamed as tears began to flood her cheeks. She grabbed both of my hands and held them firmly in hers. Then she got up from the bed and stood in between my legs as they dangled off the side of her bed.