“Grandmother drove her to another detox center in Paterson,” his thick cords finally rumbled with an answer.
Shit…
I was hoping she’d stay out of sight and mind for everybody. That bitch was crazy. She had one time to run up on Raj while I was around, and I’d body her dope fien’ing ass. Hearing she’d recently resurfaced agitated my mood. She was an evil human.
“How do you know?”
“MyMy rode up with them.”
Oh…
The damn door opening had me flying to my feet.
“Shit!”
“I know,” Raj sighed.
Coming inside my room was a white woman with dark brown hair and big hazel eyes. A smile formed on her face within seconds of finding me.
“Hi!” she mouthed, seeing I was on the phone.
She managed a wave, then pulled the key from the door and dragged a suitcase in from the hallway. Behind her was a girl, carrying stacked plastic bins. Behind her was another woman, but she was Black with long locs.
Once the girl with the bins placed them on the empty desk next to the door, she looked my way.
My brain jutted, returning to what I was doing just moments ago.
“Nah, Raj.” My voice was shaky, I was so startled. “I gotta go. Think my roommate just walked in.”
“Oh. A’ight. Go ‘head. Stick on in there. I’m praying for you.”
“Thanks,” I muttered, watching the girl amble my way as I tried to figure out just what type of human she was.
“And get a damn phone! I don’t want to have to always wait until nighttime to check in on you.”
“I got you. Bye.” I placed the cordless the campus supplied back on its base.
“Hi.” The girl’s voice was low, monotonous. “You Tori?” I nodded, eyes going between her and the two women behind her waiting expectantly with big ass beams. The girl reached out her open hand to me. “I’m Samantha. Looks like we’ll be roommates this year.”
“You sure you’re okay with this set up?”
I glanced around the room. It seemed cramped now, but nothing I couldn’t live with. Trisha explained from the gate I’d be sharing a room with a stranger human. This stranger was a strange human—pun intended. Samantha lived about three hours from BSU. She was average height and wore loose clothes, but I could tell she was rather small. She seemed friendly, having talked from the time she introduced herself to when her mother and aunt left, and all through us moving around furniture to set up our room.
I shrugged. “I’m good with it.”
“Okay.” She exhaled, laying out over her bed. “I guess this is the part where we exchange simple facts about one another.” Huhn? Her head propped up. “Ready?” she asked.
My face was tight when I nodded. I thought we did share information about each other. Samantha told me where she was from and this would be her second year at Blakewood. What more could I know?
“I’m Black.” Her face didn’t move when she spit that piece of information out. Frozen uncomfortably myself, I simply stared at her, not knowing what to say. “I know you heard what I said.” I nodded, still confused as to why she was making a big deal out of her race. “I need you to know this because you saw my mother, and people gave me so much shit about my ethnicity. I’m a student at BSU to continue the tradition my great-grandfather began. He attended school here, so did his son, and then my father.”
Wanting to cut this awkward spell, I spat out, “What’s your major?” It was something I was still deciding on.
Other than fight and never return to Millville, I had no clue what I wanted to do in life.
“The same thing my father majored in: chemistry. He’s a lead chemist at Semiest, one of the top pharms in the country. My great-grandfather was the first Black professional staff member and chemist they employed.”
“That’s what you wanna do? Work in a lab?”
Samantha shook her head. “I’m going to get a job and save to start my own a line of Black skin care products. I’m taking fifteen credits this semester, eighteen next semester. I refuse to make this a more than four year journey.” I poked my lips out, feeling the awkward silence. “What about you?”
“Boxing. I box.”
“That’s it?” She snorted. “Just boxing?”
My head bounced. “Just boxing.”
“Well, maybe you can help kick some ass if those dickheads want to harass me about my race this year.”
“Who?”
“Stupid people. Jessica Williams, Michael Perry—but they graduated—Aivery Cooper, her friend, Andrea something. You know, the dark skinned one with the long box braids. It’s a few of them that gave me shit my freshman year when I tried going out for cheer and participated in a debate about race in class for a course assignment. It was horrible. I almost didn’t come back.”
“Sorry for that.” I didn’t know what else to say, but had to offer something. Her voice cracked at the mention of almost dropping out. “I don’t think it’s easy being the new kid. Freshmen always have it bad. I was ready to quit before the semester started.”
“Fuck them assholes.” She jumped from the bed, fingered her scalp to fan her long, dark curly hair. “I’m hungry. Let’s go to the main cafeteria. I hope that Japanese station is still there. I’ve been craving their hibachi all damn summer.”
Everyone seemed to have been present—and on time. Drinks were flowing and music blasted as I threaded through familiar faces, networking and talking shit. This was a dope ass intro into the semester. My fraternity’s first meeting of the school year at the chapter house. It was also a Monday and I understood at eleven at night, they likely wanted to be someplace else, recovering from the weekend—especially those like me who didn’t live here. No matter how tired these motherfuckers were, they were still drinking and cutting the fuck up. I gave countless grips on the way to the living room, and threw up AOPsi signs even more.
“Attention AOPs!” Rashid Coleman, my Vice President, gathered the crew. His bark was extreme and resounding. I had to get used to it over the years. He was hardly 5’4 and one hundred-twenty pounds when we crossed nearly two years ago. Paddle ass-whoopings were hell for dude. Since then he hadn’t grown, but had put on a couple more pounds. “Thanks for showing up to the first Alpha Omega Psi, BSU Chapter meeting of the academic year. We won’t keep you long. Taylor passed around the volunteer opportunity signup sheet. I better see the name of every member in this place on there. BSU AOPs are known for our commitment to the community and providing a helping hand to the less fortunate!”
I peeped a few faces dropping and eye-rolls, niggas being dramatic.
Unbelievable!
Coleman must have caught it, too. “I know damn well y’all ain’t pouting about giving up your time! It’s only fuckin’ September: the holidays ain’t even here yet. If y’all ain’t for volunteerism, tell me, Black leaders, what the fuck are you branded with? It damn sure ain’t the lion’s head!” A few of the guys straightened up. Nobody liked being called out, which would have been next if I didn’t see a reaction. “That’s what the fuck I thought.” He scanned the room daringly.