First Semester (14 page)

“I got you, shawty,” he said. “That's a new one for me. Never heard it before.”

“Anyway, like I was saying, the sideshows are off the chizzle! We be riding mustard and mayonnaise scrapers, going stupid, doing figure eights in Mustang 5.0s and Camaro Z28s at the Pac 'N' Save on 106th. We don't do sideshows as much as we used to because the rollers be booking niggas for smoking up the block. But when we do, it's always crackin'!”

Just as my words trailed off, and my daydream about my city faded out, Dub-B's neck swung around the corner. He gripped the wall, hiding the rest of his body behind the corner, and spoke in a whispered tone.

“Yo, any of you guys seen V-Man?” he asked in such a low voice it was hard to hear him over the rumbling of the dryer. His face was a pinkish-red, his fingers trembled along the wall and he looked like he'd seen a ghost.

“Nah, joe,” Fresh said. “Why?”

Instead of answering, Dub-B instantly disappeared back around the corner, before reappearing with Jasmine. Like most girls who snuck into the dorm, she was disguised in baggy clothing. But even with a hooded U of A sweatshirt on, there was no hiding those Alicia Keys look-alike braids coming from under her ball cap. We all laughed as she came running around the corner. Well, everybody except for Lawry. The sight of Dub-B ushering the girl he called his “wifey-to-be” to the door turned his face to stone.

“Hurry up, ma,” Dub-B whispered as their speedwalk transcended into a slow jog.

“Nah, slow down, shawty,” Lawry said, hopping down off the dryer, clasping her wrist as she attempted to whisk by. “Don't you think you've got some explaining to do?”

“Explaining?” she asked, rolling her eyes, before looking down at her wrist in his hand, and looking back at him like he was crazy. “Explain what? If anything you need to explain why you're grabbing me by my wrist.”

“Yeah, I think you need to take it easy,” Dub-B said.

“I've already told you to stay in your place, Wonder Bread,” Lawry said as he pointed a finger in Dub-B's face with one hand and released Jasmine's wrist from the other. “This ain't got shit to do with you. This is between me and my girl.”

“
Your
girl?” Dub-B asked, looking dumbfounded at Jasmine.

“
Your
girl?” Jasmine asked, looking at Lawry with the same expression on her face. “I see you've been drinking, but you must be drunk if you think I'm your girl. It's not even like that between us. I don't even look at you like that. We're just friends.”

I knew that one hurt. If there's one thing that can hurt a man's pride more than anything, it's a woman he wants to be with telling him they're “just friends.” In all honesty, there's nothing too friendly about that gesture. That comment alone probably hurt more than the fact that his “wifey-to-be” was getting her walls painted white.

“Just friends, huh?” Lawry asked, in a solemn tone.

“Yes, just friends!”

Damn, she did it again,
I thought.

“Now, if you'll excuse me, I've got to go,” she said.

“Oh, so it's like that, shawty?” Lawry asked.

“Yeah, it's like that,” Dub-B said as he looked down on Lawry, grabbed Jasmine by the waist and bent the corner.

Once again, it was up to me to change the subject. I wish I would've thought of a smoother transition.

“Damn, I knew she was cute, but I had no idea she had an onion booty!” I said as her rear end jiggled down the hallway.

“You ain't lying!” Fresh said. “What the hell is an onion booty anyway?”

“That's an ass so fat it could make a grown man cry.”

Everyone except for Lawry chuckled. Stretch shook his head back and forth in amazement.

“That boy Dub-B is all right with me,” Fresh said. “That boy cold for pulling ol' baby.”

“I ain't really feelin' your boy Wonder Bread,” Lawry said, with a tinge of hatred in his voice. “Ol' pussy-ass, Jon B. wannabe,
Cry Me a River
-ass boy. He's gonna get his. Mark my words, shawty. I got something for ya boy!”

All of us fell out laughing. Stretch laughed so hard, Grand Marnier came running out of his nose.

“You still mad at Dub-B for jappin' on you that day when we were all outside on the stoop?” Fresh asked.

“Ain't nobody even thinking 'bout that, shawty.”

“I know you ain't mad at Dub-B for coming up on Jasmine. If you wanted that, you should've had your game tight.”

“It really ain't got nothing to do with her,” Lawry said, lying through his teeth. “Girls like her come a dime a dozen. There's just something about that Wonder Bread I really don't like. It's like he's tryin' to be something he ain't. But since the white boy wants to be brown, I'ma help him with that.”

“How you plan on doing that?” Stretch asked.

“You'll see,” Lawry said.

Our conversation was broken up by the sound of a group of guys who sounded like the Harlem Boys Choir, chanting “We are the Men of Marshall Hall…M-O-M-H” over and over again. That was followed by a series of synchronized stomps and hand claps. Fresh checked his watch for the time.

“It's damn near two o'clock in the morning, joe,” he said. “Who's making all that noise?”

“The Marshall Hall step team must have just made it back from practicing over there in the parking deck,” Stretch said.

“How you know we got a step team, blood?” I asked.

“My roommate is on it. I'm surprised you haven't heard them practicing every night for the past week. They're actually back pretty early tonight.”

“What are they practicing for?” Fresh asked.

“The freshman dorm step show is next week during homecoming.”

“I heard that shit be crunk too,” Lawry said.

“I heard homecoming is going to be off the chain this year,” Stretch said. “Everybody's been talking about it on the yard. I know y'all boys going to that coronation, right?”

“What's that?” I asked.

“That's the formal homecoming ball,” Stretch said. “This lil' broad I'm talking to was telling me about it. She said everybody be dressed up, but it goes down. She said that's the best part of homecoming besides the concert.”

“You bought your ticket yet?” Fresh asked.

“Already. It's free, though. All you gotta do is show your ID card to the lady at the homecoming booth in the Student Center.”

“Say that then,” I said.

“I'm all over that tomorrow,” Lawry said.

“Me too,” Fresh added. “I got a suit that's figna kill 'em.”

I didn't doubt it.

Just as we were about to head back to our rooms, I peeped Lester walking down the hall toward us. When I spun around to tell Lawry to hide the bottle, I accidentally bumped his elbow, knocking the bottle of Grand Marnier out of his hands. It shattered all over the floor.

“Damn,” I said, spinning back around to see if Lester saw what had just happened.

Surprisingly, he looked just as embarrassed as I did. He was standing side by side with a short, dark-skinned guy wearing pink Fendi shades and a matching purse.

“Just go on to my room, Norm,” Lester said, giving his little friend a slight nudge. “I'll be there in a sec so we can finish working on the routine for the step show.”

As his friend proceeded to walk away, switching harder than any of the girls on campus, Lester turned his attention toward us.

“What you boys still doing up?” he asked.

“That's what we need to be asking you, shawty,” Lawry said, with a snicker.

“I see y'all been drinking without me,” Lester said, avoiding Lawry's subliminal joke. “Don't worry, as long as you clean up this broken glass, I haven't seen anything. And neither have y'all. Cool?”

“Sure,” I said jokingly. “We'll keep it on the
down low,
brotha.”

“Speaking of down low,” Fresh said, looking toward me. “What's up with your roommate? I never see him around anymore. I mean, he's always been a little off, but I ain't seen him at all the last couple of weeks.”

“Me neither,” I said. “But I'm not complaining.”

At that moment, Timothy came walking out of the room, as if on cue. He was wearing a freshly starched dress shirt, khakis and some penny loafers. He hurriedly locked the door behind him and turned to walk away, stepping over the spilled alcohol and glass, without ever acknowledging us.

“Speak of the devil,” Fresh mumbled.

“What's crackin', fam?” I asked.

He turned around as if he'd heard a ghost. That's when I noticed he was wearing sunglasses.

“Oh, hey, J.D.,” he said nervously. “What's up, fellas?”

“I'm out, y'all,” Lawry said as he dapped everyone up and headed toward his room. “I'm figna throw on some clothes so I can go over to Winfrey Hall and borrow this study sheet from shawty round the way.”

“I need to be doing the same thing,” I said. “Where you headed, Timothy?”

“I've got a study session I'm headed to,” he said.

“At this hour?” Stretch asked.

“Honors courses can be quite difficult,” he said. “Courses such as First Year Seminar and Comparative Religion are a breeze, but I find microeconomics to be rather challenging. I need all the studying I can get.”

“Where you studying, Jamaica?” Stretch asked, laughing.

“Yeah, what's up with the shades, blood?” I asked.

“I visited the optometrist earlier, and he dilated my pupils, so he recommended I wear these protective glasses today,” Timothy said hurriedly. “I'd love to stick around and chat, but I've gotta run, guys.”

“You going to a study session without your Bible?” I asked.

“I don't need it for this one,” he said, “but thanks for your concern.”

Just as he turned to walk away, Lawry's door swung open, and he came out dressed in attire similar to Timothy's, except his shirt was wrinkled. Like Timothy, Lawry hurried toward the front door.

“Hot study, buddy?” Fresh asked as Lawry stormed down the hallway.

“Something like that,” Lawry responded.

Stretch looked at me. I looked at Fresh. Fresh looked at Stretch. Then all of us shrugged our shoulders.

“I know I've had a few,” Stretch said. “But is it just me, or was there something wrong with that picture?”

“I'm telling you, blood,” I said, “Lawry and my roommate have been acting really funny lately. Both of 'em have been going to late-night study sessions for some class they're taking. And it's not like Timothy to go anywhere without his Bible—especially a study session.”

“What's the big deal about him studying without a Bible?” Stretch asked.

“I'm telling you, that dude never makes a move without his Bible, blood. I think he takes it with him when he goes to shower. It just ain't like him to leave the dorm without the Good Book. But then again, it ain't like him to fall asleep in class either, but just the other day I saw him nodding in biology.”

“As much as you be knocked out in class, I don't know how you saw anybody else fall asleep,” Fresh said.

“Yeah,” Stretch said. “You were probably dreaming that. I got three classes with your roommate and I ain't never seen him fall asleep.”

“I'm telling you, that fool was knocked out, family. Snoring like he hadn't slept in days. Well, actually, he always snores like that. But I'm telling you, he was sitting in the front row looking bad.”

As we were sitting around trying to get to the bottom of things like some off-duty private eye detectives, I felt my phone vibrate. When I checked it, I saw that I'd missed a call from Kat, but she'd left a message.

“Aaah, shit!” I said.

“What it do?” Stretch asked.

“A nigga got a call from Kat about fifteen minutes ago. She left a message too.”

“Who?” Fresh asked.

“Katrina, nigga!”

“You talking 'bout fine-ass Katrina from Dr. J's class?” Stretch asked.

“Yes, sir!”

“If she's calling at this hour, you already know what it is, joe,” Fresh said. “You better call her back.”

“Let me check this message first and see what she's talking about,” I said, pressing the speakerphone button on my cell, as the fellas huddled around listening to the message.

“Hello, James. This is Katrina. I was just giving you a call to see if you still wanted to get together to study. You know that research paper is due for Dr. J's class next week, and we have another quiz coming up in biology…Well, I know it's kinda late, so if it's not past your bedtime, give me a call back. 'Bye.”