by J. Nichole
Nicole introduces me to the guys and one of them tries hard to flirt with me. While he stands beside me he says, "I'm not too excited about the food in the cafeteria. Can you cook?"
Jennifer laughs. "What? Laila cooking?" She looks at me and winks. "Unless you can survive on cereal and milk alone, maybe chips, you better learn to love the cafeteria."
I cock my head at Jennifer, and although she isn't too far off from my cooking expertise, I don't appreciate her putting me on blast. "Now and then the cafe has fried chicken." I smile at the guy. "And it isn't too bad."
My phone vibrates and I move away from the group to check my messages.
Josh: Excited to be back at school?
Josh: Need a break yet?
Jennifer taps me on the shoulder and says, "Let's get off campus before this girl invites the entire freshman class to our apartment for a home-cooked meal." I look up and nod to her as I type a response to Josh. Before I hit send, I decide to call him instead.
As we walk back to the car I talk to Josh. The more I listen to him talk about his boring day, it makes me think about what Chris is doing today. What his weekends have been like over the past few months.
Nicole complains about the heat in her car before she blasts the music and pulls out of the parking lot. "Sorry if you can't hear me." I say to Josh. "I have a rude ass roommate." I scream over the music. Before hanging up I promise to call Josh back later in the evening.
"This is my fight song. Take back my life song." Nicole sings along with the music. "Laila, this is perfect timing. You're going to be alright." Jennifer and I laugh as Nicole continues to sing with the radio. "This year is going to be fucking amazing."
Chapter Twelve
A crowd of students is standing in front of the Journalism building as I try to make my way to my first class. Before I grab the door handle I stop and ask them if they are okay. They pause their conversation and seem to be shocked that I'm speaking to them.
"We were supposed to have our first class in the journalism building but it's canceled and we are trying to figure out if we want to walk back to the dorms." The other girls stand and listen as their spokesperson describes their dilemma.
I smile at them and tell them to follow me. As I open the door I say, "I know it's too hot to walk around campus aimlessly." I direct them to the atrium and then rush to my class. Showing the freshman around will not be an acceptable excuse for being late to class.
Professor Dupri is pacing in front of the classroom, and I try to sneak past to find an empty seat before he notices me. A girl I remember from one of my classes last semester signals me over to an empty seat next to her. After sitting down and pulling out my notebook, Professor Dupri says, "Would you like to explain journalistic integrity... Miss." He looks my way and waves his hand in front of him.
"Miss Jackson." I take a breath as I think of the best answer for his question. "Integrity is being honest. Journalistic integrity is reporting the truth." I look around as Professor Dupri remains silent.
"And if I were to ask you why you were late to class, and your story didn't hold true could your integrity come into question?" The class erupts in a synchronous 'oh.'
I shrug my shoulders and say, "I suppose it could."
Professor Dupri continues his lecture on journalistic integrity using the example he made of me to drive home his point of being honest and truthful in all of our dealings. Then he describes the pillars of the Society of Professional Journalists. A smile crosses my face as I think about the ability to join the Society after graduation. I feel nerdy until I look at Dionne, the girl sitting beside me, and I realize her smile is as big as mine.
Dionne whispers to me, "We just need to knock out four more semesters." I nod my head. After Professor Dupri finishes his forty-five-minute lecture I throw my notebook in my bag and head towards the door.
"Miss Jackson." Professor Dupri waves his arm. "Do you have a minute?"
I shrug my shoulders then walk towards him. "Yes, sir." Professor Dupri stands taller than me, and I look up to him to wait for him to speak. He places his hand on his salt and pepper beard that lies neatly on his smooth skin. His muscles slightly bulge from his button down shirt.
"Are you on the paper this year?" This is my first class with Professor Dupri, but most of the professors participate in some way on the paper, magazine, and radio. I'm sure he's heard of me from the staff of the paper.
I nod slowly as I remember I need to speak to Stephanie who replaced Evan, as editor, after he graduated. Stephanie and I had a class together last year, and it doesn't surprise me that she was selected as the editor.
"You don't seem sure." He cocks his head at me. "If you are, I wanted to let you know that I'm the staff advisor, and I expect to see you in my class on time."
Just my luck, when I have a legit reason for being late I'm late to the staff advisor's class. "Yes, sir." No need to explain why I was late.
I have a short break before my next class, and this day will need a cup of tea. The heat hasn't let up yet but fortunately the coffee shop isn't too far away from the journalism building.
Tanya started classes this week too, and being in North Carolina she's more than a few hours away from her daughter, Ava. I already heard from Josh that leaving her on campus was difficult for the entire family. While I wait in line for my tea I call Tanya to check on her.
She answers, "Hey girl." She releases a long sigh. "This campus is too big, and it's too hot out here."
"Yeah, this heat is no joke. How are your classes so far?" While she responds I order a black tea with cream. I'll have to sit inside with it to avoid overheating from a hot drink and the hotter air outside.
"Most of them seem to be straight forward. I just have one professor who is on some other shit." Tanya chose an engineering program and after her two years at the community college she's taking her major courses now. "He handed out the syllabus and our first assignment that's due when we meet again."
I laugh at her complaining, and then she drills me about Josh. "Have y'all been talking since your rendezvous back home?" I wish I could tell her that Chris has reached out to me. Talking about guys with her was much easier when none of them was her brother. Now, I have to mince my words or else she'll be super sister and defend her brother's heart at the mention of another dude.
"Of course we have." The coffee shop is scarce today, and I'm able to find a seat alone. "But you know I'm back at school, and he's busy with work."
"Bullshit. I call all types of bullshit." My hot tea burns the back of my mouth as I cough at her comment. "You don't have to lie to me just because he's my brother. You're my girl and I promise to stay out of it."
With over fifteen years of friendship I guess you can call your girl's bullshit. Likewise, I know she won't stay out of it. As loyal of a friend she has been to me she loves her brother too much to sit back and let us dissolve.
"Not bullshit. What part of that is bullshit?" Maybe the part about not knowing if I want to be serious with Josh, especially now that Chris is in the picture. Or the part that I've been keeping our conversations light to avoid the topic of a visit.
"I just know you're keeping something from me. And it's cool." The background noise masks her voice. "Ugh, do they have to practice marching across campus in the middle of the day?" She covers the phone before she continues, "Anyway. Just as long as he isn't stalking you or hurting you it's whatever."
"Now I call your bullshit." I know she'd be pissed if we were to stop talking. "I remember how you reacted when Josh's ex-girlfriend broke up with him."
We both laugh and she says, "She was a stank heffa. And you're my best friend. Maybe odd when you come around but I'm sure we'll all get over it eventually. I am in front of my next class. I'll talk to you later."
I didn't realize how much time had passed since I came into the coffee shop. My cup of tea is empty, and I should get to my next class before I'm called out again. I zigzag between the few trees on campus in an attempt
to avoid the sun.
My Intro to Logic class is in the general education building in a large auditorium-style classroom. Most of the general classes are larger than my major courses. The first few rows of seats are empty, but the back of the classroom is packed. On my way to an empty seat I hear someone hissing at me. "Laila, over here." I turn and look through the full rows and find Jason sitting forward waving his hand towards me.
I shake my head and sit in a seat away from him. Jason laughs and says, "It's like that?" I met Jason freshman year. When we first met, he played Chris' ears and eyes. Keeping tabs on me around campus. Last year I realized he did all of Chris' dirty work because he wanted to be a Que. Not sure if Chris helped him or not, but he pledged. In the process, he convinced me to help him in our Economics class. "We were like peanut butter and jelly last year."
I laugh as he makes his way to the empty seat beside me. "Still lame I see." He leans down and gives me a bear hug.
"I'm going to be on top of my shit this semester." He pulls out a fresh, purple, spiral notebook and pencil. He slaps it on his desk. "You ready?" He looks at my fingers tapping my bare desk.
I nod my head then pull out my notebook. "As I'm going to be." The last rows of seats fill in before the professor walks into the room.
The female professor looks fresh out of undergrad. Rocking a black shirt and pair of fitted jeans. Her hair is slicked back into a curly ponytail. She passes out the syllabus and then stands in front of the class and says, "You have all been involved in an argument." She looks around the room. "I intend to teach you what it takes to have a logical debate. To produce evidence, and a solid conclusion." She smiles. "I can't promise you'll win the next debate with your girlfriend." She looks at a guy sitting in front of her. "But you'll at least sound like you know what you are talking about."
Jason whispers to me, "You can win your arguments with Chris." I roll my eyes at Jason. He knows that Chris and I broke up. "You two will be back together." He has more confidence than I do.
As we review the syllabus I realize that logic is much more than basic arguments as the professor described. When she turns around to write on the whiteboard, Jason turns to me and says, "Have you talked to him lately?"
Jason's back stiffens as he waits for me to respond. "We talked a few days ago." I turn my attention back to the professor's notes on the white board but I can feel Jason staring. "What happened to being on top of your shit this semester?" I look him square in the eyes. "You aren't even listening to her anymore." I point towards the professor who is explaining the notes she wrote on the board. He holds his hands up in defense and turns around.
The professor dismisses our class and I throw my notebook in my tote. "Alright, Jason. I'll talk to you later."
Jason wraps his arm around my shoulder. "In a rush?" I wriggle my way out of his embrace. "Come by the frat house."
I stop walking and look up at Jason. "I'm good." His description of the fish fry they are throwing at the frat house makes my stomach growl. "I don't have too long before my next class."
"Oh, when he's back I'm sure you'll be around." He looks at me then covers his mouth. "I'll see you next class."
Chapter Thirteen
My phone has been ringing non-stop for the past few hours; from my parents checking on me to the newspaper staff coordinating a meeting point and perspectives for the paper. When a freshman was leaving a party last night he was shot by the police. The students of L.U. organized a march to the governor's mansion.
"I can't believe this shit." Nicole wipes tears from her face. "Watching the incidents in the news have infuriated me. These attacks on people of color have to stop." Monica paces the floor with her phone glued to her ear. "Have you heard from Jennifer?" She looks to me while she rakes her hand through her hair.
"I haven't. I'll call a few of her L.O.S. sisters." Jennifer is a member of a dance troupe on campus, and if she isn't with us she's usually with them. "Nicole, you have to calm down." Nicole is typically the confident one. Seeing her all shaken up is making this situation worse.
Monica drops the phone on the couch and grabs Nicole by the shoulders. "Come here." Nicole wraps her arms around Monica and cries on her shoulder. "More details are coming out and it's worse than what we heard."
I whisper to Monica, "Maybe keep the details. Nothing you can tell us will make this situation any worse than it already is..." I collapse on the couch and say, "Nothing he could have been doing would require a bullet to stop him."
Monica tells us about the march and what has been organized in the few hours since the incident. She'll be walking with the other class presidents, but we'll be nearby.
I thumb through my contacts a few times looking for Jennifer's troupe members, but I can't remember any of their names. Nicole looks at me and asks, "Did you check on Jennifer?" She paces the room a few times before grabbing her phone. "I can find her."
My phone vibrates and I walk to my room to answer the call. "Hey."
"Laila, are you okay?" Josh breathes heavy into the phone. "I just heard about the freshman down there who got shot."
"I don't know." Sobs begin to drown out my voice and I realize the sobs are coming from me. "Before you asked me how I was doing, I was okay." I lean against my door then say, "This is all beginning to be too much." Josh doesn't confirm he hears me but I know he is listening. "When will it stop?"
“I wish I had answers for you.” He clears his throat and whispers, “I wish I had answers for the black community.” I tell him about the march and the article I'll need to craft for the paper. "Be safe out there during the march. We've seen one too many marches that spawn more problems for us."
"I wish that weren't the case but I will make sure I keep my head on the swivel." Monica already briefed us on the do's and don'ts of the march. We promised we'd stay nearby her at all times and she ensured us there would be officers in attendance.
"Call me when you get home from the march?" He takes a deep breath before he says goodbye.
Jennifer is in the living room with the girls. Her face is stained with eyeliner and her hair is matted on top of her head. She stops mid-sentence when I walk towards her and we hug, her body frail within my embrace. "Are you okay?"
Monica responds, "She was at the same club last night." We all squeeze beside each other on the same couch while Jennifer tells us about the night.
"A fight broke out and we all got shuffled outside. The cops pulled up and tried to disperse the crowd." She closes her eyes and says, "The guys who were fighting inside started fighting again and the cops sprayed pepper spray in the air." Nicole begins to cry. "People started running and the cops followed a few guys."
"Does anyone need something to drink?" Monica walks towards the kitchen. Nicole nods her head. Monica hands us each a bottle of water. Jennifer continues the story but her words sound distorted. I get off the couch and lie on the floor.
Nicole and Jennifer decide they are both too emotionally drained to march. If it weren't for the newspaper I'd probably stay back with them. Instead Monica and I ride in silence to campus. We join the crowd gathered in front of the library. The president of the university stands on the steps before us, his polo and khakis starched to perfection and speaks to the crowd. "We have to stand for something or fall for anything. With each step we take on this march remember why and who we are marching for. Don't let your emotions get the best of you, and most of all remain peaceful." Before we begin he says a prayer over us and we begin walking.
The freshman class leads the march, walking hand and hand, followed by the student government representatives, and finally a mix of everyone else. Along the way Tallahassee residents join the march. Even though the sun is relentless and the dense crowd stifles the air we are marching on.
News reporters and cameramen are scattered in front of the governor's mansion. Someone begins a chant, "We matter, we matter," and everyone joins along. Observing the crowd, I take notes for the paper and I begin to wonder if the other jour
nalists will have the same perspective; if the other journalists will be empathetic.
The student body president takes the loud speaker and he says, "Jace McFadden. Another name we must add to the long list of men and women killed by improperly trained police. The narrative is the same. We'll hear what Jace could have done to prevent his death." He paces the length of the mansion. "But unlike the others that have gone before him, he was one of our own." He clears his throat and hangs his head. "We want answers and we want justice."
The crowd begins to chant again, "We matter, we matter!" The freshman class president takes the loud speaker and begins to elaborate on the night and how we must be our brother's keeper. How we must encourage the de-escalation of fights so that the cops are not called in hot and ready.
Someone taps my shoulder and I turn around to face Jason with a downturned smile. "Hey, I saw you taking notes." He points to the journalists surrounding us. "This story will be in more than a few media outlets tomorrow." I nod my head in agreement.
Different student organizations are usually at most of the freshman parties to welcome them to campus. Just like Jennifer was at the party representing Ladies of Sophistication, I'm sure there were a few fraternities and sororities there too. "Were you at the party last night?" Jason's eyes widen then he looks down at my notebook.
"Are you looking for inside details?" A smile tries to creep onto his face but it leaves as the crowd begins their chant.
"No, thankfully I'm not covering the party in my piece. I don't think I can manage hearing the details from multiple people. Just wanted to make sure you were alright if you were there."
He wraps his arm around my shoulder and I look up at him as he says, "Thanks for asking. I never expected this could happen here in Tallahassee." He shrugs his shoulders. "Not to someone from L.U., especially not a freshman."