Everywhere she went on campus had a poster or banner celebrating diversity this or diversity that, so she hoped nobody would be judging her on the “blackness” scale.
She did hang out at the Black Student Union occasionally between classes, but aside from a couple of the bold brothers trying to chat her up, she failed to connect with anyone there.
Celeste had always loved to read, since first learning how in the First Grade. She preferred reading to watching TV, most of the time. But the very people who pontificated about the importance of education in the black community stared at her like some freak show reject when they saw her voluntarily reading a book.
On good days.
On not-so-good days they questioned her as if she were crazy or stupid, or joked about her to their peers.
Her taste in music was another sore point. It was like her skin color obligated her to like watching Soul Train, listening to hip hop or some other “black” music. She did like some of that, but her range was much more eclectic.
Perhaps because of the music she listened to, the friends she made in junior high and high school were mostly white. This was not proper black behavior either, but it was grudgingly tolerated until a white boy asked her to prom.Mother"s subsequent tirade sounded like something out of a bad made- for-TV movie. Nikita"s solution was to fix Celeste up with a succession of brothers.
Another requirement: stick to your own kind.
The obligations inherited along with her skin color apparently included politics. But Celeste never accepted the unspoken law that she should think and believe according to set patterns just because of her pigmentation. And that, perhaps more than any other matter, assured she would be a pariah in her own family and neighborhood.
Even as a young girl, Celeste didn"t value the opinions of others so highly that she hid who she was. But still, all the stares and comments added up over the years, causing her to be fairly discrete in expressing her individuality.
College was going to be different; she was sure.
The Black Student Union sure wasn"t different. The sistas made snide remarks and whispered/gestured to each other about the wallflower when they thought she wasn"t looking. Only Jermaine made an effort to be friendly to her, consistently. He was fine-looking and athletic, obviously attracted to her, and she might have accepted his smooth advances if she hadn"t felt that he, too, was judging her by her blackness. Or lack of it.
After the first few weeks, Celeste still hadn"t made any friends. And her roommate was a ho that might as well have been a sorority girl. Bernice was a shallow, boozing conformist that rubbed Celeste the wrong way, even when she was trying to be friendly…which wasn"t that often.
Bernice traded in for new boyfriends weekly, and had a flock of other shallow suburban white girls for friends. Their dorm room hosted a neverending parade of loud, obnoxious people who Celeste thought belonged in high school, not college. Celeste was a night person, so she didn"t necessarily want to get to bed early every evening, but she valued her privacy and, if she stayed in the room after her last class, she preferred not to be surrounded by a drunken party, with strangers who sat on her bed without being invited, and helped themselves to her belongings.
She tried to settle it with Bernice in private so they could come to some sort of compromise, but no good ever came of it. Their arguments were even less appealing than the drunken parade. That"s why Celeste developed the habit of taking a book to the miniature student lounge in the hall where most of the humanities courses were taught. On this campus, some doors were left unlocked for hours after the last evening classes got out. When caught up on her studying, Celeste would switch the textbooks for a paperback and read until about three in the morning, after which Bernice would usually be in bed herself…though not always alone.
After mid-terms, Celeste was into one of her self-imposed exiles in her now-familiar spot when she first noticed the handsome Italian boy going in and out of the nearby video production suites. She still remembered the strange sensation she felt the first time they made eye contact. Some mixture of excitement and fear.
The movement in the otherwise tranquil hall distracted her from her book. She glanced up, saw him striding past—either to the men"s room or the vending machines—and noticed he was studying her face on his way by. She smiled politely, but he didn"t respond. He didn"t say anything. No wave; no return smile; not even a nod. He just stared, until his movement took him past the point where he could look without craning his neck.
OK, great, she thought. He’s a creep. Or stoned out of his mind.
The next night, however, he did smile at her. From then on, they always smiled at each other. Gradually, he added nods, waves, or a quiet “hi” on his way past.
There was something about him that attracted Celeste. Something deeper than his obvious good looks. His eyes seemed to glow with…something.She found herself hoping he"d speak to her beyond the occasional “hi.” But he didn"t.
She"d never seen him during daylight hours, until one day she was standing in the line at the cafeteria to order a salad. She noticed somebody step into line behind her and turned to see who it was.
It was him.
Her heart fluttered a bit. He stared up at the menu on the wall behind the counter, without acknowledging her.
There were three other lines—two of them shorter than the one she waited in.
It couldn"t be a coincidence: he recognized her and chose this line because she was in it.
As she pondered this, a tall, skinny emo-looking white boy approached him.
“What"re you doing here, Coz?” Emo Boy asked.
“Writing my term paper,” he replied. “Can"t you tell?”
The remark came with such natural ease, Emo Boy didn"t seem to mind the dry sarcasm. Like he was used to it.
“I got a sandwich in here yesterday,” Emo boy said.
“I"ll alert the media, Ted.”
“Nice to see you too, Coz.” Emo Boy/Ted said.
“What, you miss me already? That"s right: it has been a whole hour since we got off work.”
Work. So “Coz” worked on campus in addition to taking classes She had assumed his cheap clothes and shoes were simply some kind of statement of individuality like so many students seemed to be trying to make—including Emo Ted. But if Coz was working his way through school, maybe he was just struggling financially.
His baggy cargo pants clashed with his untucked flannel shirt and his red Buffalo Bills cap didn"t match either. He appeared clean and wellgroomed, but otherwise didn"t seem to care what he looked like. Nikita would probably sneer in disgust at him. Celeste had never been so superficial, and was even less so, now. But still, she thought he would be super-fine with some modicum of fashion direction.
“You know how to do all that toaster stuff in the Avid?” Ted asked.
“How would I know?” he replied. “We"ve been sitting in the same exact classes.We haven"t even seen it yet. I"m beginning to wonder if it even exists.”
“You knew all that lingo Hansen talked about last week—montage and tracking shots and tilt and rack-focus and dolly in, blah blah blah,” Ted said.
“I learned all that on my own. But I don"t have a multi-gazillion dollar editing suite like they do here. I"ve never used Avid before.”
It was obvious Ted looked up to“Coz”, and was a little surprised that there was a subject he wasn"t informed about.
“What are you getting here,” Ted asked, “a sub?”
“They"ve got a chicken sandwich here that ain"t too bad. You wanna try one?”
“You offering to buy?” Ted asked.
“Yeah, if you don"t have the money.”
“Nah. I ate earlier. I"m really just wandering around because I have no life and nothing to do right now.”
“At least you"re honest about it.”
Ted fingered a silver stud in his earlobe. “You see my new earring?”
Cozshrugged. “Wasn"t really paying attention.”
<
br /> “I replaced that hoop I had. You don"t remember that?”
Cozlooked bored. “Oh, you mean that huge thing that set off metal detectors for miles and made you walk lopsided?”
“Very funny,” Ted said. “I had to take it off, because I noticed girls were afraid to approach me.”
He looked Ted up and down. “You mean they"re not, normally?”
Ted blushed. “Ha, ha. No. But they saw that hoop and probably thought…”
“It makes you look like a homo,” Cozsaid, interrupting. “Why you need to punch holes in your body anyway, and hang stuff from them?”
“At least I don"t dress likea country bumpkin right off the farm,” Ted retorted, imitating his friend"s dry, mellow delivery of insults. “I"m not anti- social. And compared to you, I have all kinds of peopleskills.”
“You got me there,” Coz admitted, with a shrug.
Someone else might have been put off in any number of ways overhearing this conversation, but Celeste was intrigued.
“I think I"ll wander around some more,” Ted said, and turned to go. “Do you think you could go over some of those definitions with me?"
“Yup. Look for me in the lounge before class. I"ll tell you what I know.”
Ted wandered away.
Celeste"s heart rate sped now, as she realized this was the time for them to strike up a conversation.
If they were going to.
A student in front of her made a loud, nasty remark about how slow the line was moving. A frazzled cashier controlled her irritation and assured them the cafeteria staff was doing their best.
Celeste turned and, with a polite smile, gazed up intoCoz"s eyes. She had kept her back turned to him through much of his conversation with Emo Ted, feigning interest in other goings-on, stealing glances to evaluate the whole package.
It was a nice package. And when their eyes met, she saw something like a flicker that convinced her the attraction was mutual.
“I"d hate to be back there dealing with that right now,” she said, with a nervous laugh.
He smiled back at her. Not a broad, show-biz smile like some guys had perfected. His lips stayed clamped together but curled with amusement. “They gotta be pretty busy,” he agreed.
“Have you tried their Cobb Salad?” she asked.
“No. What"s in it?”
“I don"t know,” she said, “but I"m thinking about trying it.”
“Are you a vegetarian?” he asked.
“Not really.”
“A fish and chicken vegetarian, then,” he said.
Before she could reply, the person at the front of the line cussed loudly and stormed away. The person in between them and Celeste left their place in line, too.Now the frazzled cashier greeted her. “How can I help you?”
She ordered her salad and paid. They got it to her in no time at all, considering how slow things had gone previously.
Now she had a dilemma: She absolutely could not wait for him to finish his order, as if they were in agreement to eat together. That would violate just too many of the rules of this game, as she understood them. Besides, she got the ball rolling. It was up to him now to step up to the plate and take a swing at the ice.
Still, she could make it easy for him. She lingered a little at the condiment stand, to give him time to finish getting his order. When she saw him pay the cashier, she looked for a table. They weren"t easy to find, this time of day. In fact, there were none unoccupied.
Scheming hastily, she decided to take her salad out on the quad. The cafeteria was just a little too noisy anyway, for an encounter like this. The fluorescent lighting and clatter of trays were OK for a casual rendezvous between classes after a relationship was established, she thought, but too much for an ice-breaker. It was sunny outside; the quad was pretty; it was a casual, innocent place to have that first conversation.
She found a nice spot with a bench providing a strategic view, and picked at her salad. The doors to a nearby hall swung open, and a mob from one of the science auditoriums spilled out. Seconds later, she saw her mark emerge from the cafeteria. She was relieved to see him searching the quad with his eyes…then the science mob enveloped her.
She couldn"t very well jump to her feet and begin waving her arms to attract attention. Should she stand on the bench so he could spot her above the flood of students? No. That was almost as stupid.
She would just have to wait until the stampede passed her by. Then he would see her.
But when the human wave dissipated, he was gone.
5 That night Celeste argued with herself about what she should have done differently. Nothing, she finally decided. She had played it right, under the circumstances, and ultimately just suffered bad luck. But that led her to the next big question: What should she do now?
Men were supposed to do the pursuing, she knew. If they didn"t, then they didn"t deserve her. But she remembered the comment Ted made about Coz"s lack of people skills. Tedhad even called him “anti-social.” Many rebels were, and she was drawn to rebels. But it also meant that talking to strangers wasn"t his strong suit.
Deep down, he was probably very shy. He demonstrated a quick wit with Emo Ted: someone he already knew and had no fear of rejection from. But with her it was like he struggled to spit any words out at all.
The racial difference only compounded the problem, probably. It sure made her more tentative than she would normally be.
She didn"t see him again for some time, partly because her roommate Bernice began taking her party elsewhere most nights and she didn"t read in the lounge at night for some time. Another reason was because of the party she attended at the invite from one of the boys at the Black Student Union, after which Jermaine amped up his flirting with her.
She flirted back with Jermaine occasionally, and was enjoying the attention. It even seemed as though the Blackness Police were beginning to accept her because of how chummy she and Jermaine became.
One day between classes as she walked by the BSU, Jermaine stepped out to greet her. They made small talk for a moment, then he straight-up asked her if she"d like to go out with him some time. After his polite prodding, her non-committal parries, and a huge escalation in sexual tension, she gave him her phone number.
Afterwards Celeste wrestled with herself about whether she should have done so, when Coz was the one she was interested in. She finally decided that College was a smorgasbord, and sampling one treat didn"t mean she couldn"t put a different one on her plate, too. She wasn"t promiscuous by nature and would keep her legs closed until she was damn sure what she wanted, but it wouldn"t hurt to see what Jermaine had to offer.
Still, she and Coz had some kind of connection and she really wanted to explore that.Despite Bernice"s absence one night, Celeste took her station in the lounge with a book.
Around midnight, a noisy mob crashed in the front door and traipsed through the lounge toward the video suites, carrying huge plastic cases, boxes, tripods, strange metal stands, television cameras and various electronic equipment. They were soaking wet—obviously from the rain outside. Celeste picked out Coz and Emo Ted as they caravanned past.
Coz did a double-take when he recognized Celeste, and smiled, but his attention was immediately stolen by a question from one of his compatriots. He answered the question as they rounded the corner and continued down the hall. Now his back was to Celeste. Her gaze dropped down to his butt, now strikingly defined by the clinging wet pants. She glanced away so as not to be obvious.
Before Coz finished answering, someone asked him another question.
The caravan halted at a door near the video suite, and five different people tried the knob before Coz sent someone to fetch the key. He fielded more questions from his entourage, then asked some of his own. His comrades consulted notepads or argued with each other to answer him.
Several times he glanced Celeste"s way. He had a strange expression when he did so, as if suffering from an indecisiveness which sharply contrasted with how he dealt with
his classmates. Celeste innocently kept her nose in the book, as if oblivious. She thought he wanted to break away from the mob and approach her, but she chose not to give him any encouragement.
Jermaine certainly didn"t need encouragement. Few brothers did. And she rather enjoyed it when they had to do all the work.
There were females in the group, and Celeste didn"t like the way two of them looked at Coz, spoke to him, and moved around him. He was all business, but the girls were dropping signals left and right, it seemed to her.
Somebody arrived with a key, and the group brought the equipment inside the room. When the door closed behind them, the building was disturbingly quiet.
Celeste now found it impossible to concentrate on her book. Obviously, Coz was in the middle of something and this wasn"t the best time. Still, the way he looked at her…she could only imagine what he was feeling, but there definitely was a whole lot of feeling behind those hazel eyes.
A half hour passed before he emerged, with Emo Ted and another boy. Celeste decided to leave, then. It was a strategic compromise: it still left the ball in his court, but it gave him the opportunity to catch up with her, outside, where they could meet privately. After he made up some excuse to his classmates.
She took her time gathering her things, then walked as slow as she ever had toward the front door, giving him plenty of time to make his excuses and escape, as well as determine what direction she was going.
Anticipating his approach from behind, she pushed through the front door and descended the steps. She wanted desperately to look back, thinking he"d had sufficient time by then, but she dared not. She strolled onto the trail leading to her dorm, listening for the sound of the door opening behind her.
It didn"t.
When she rounded the first curve in the trail, placing a grove of trees between herself and the campus, she realized he wasn"t coming.
She wrestled with herself some more later.
If Coz was shy, why had she employed tactics used on bold guys like Jermaine? Chances were, he needed some encouragement. If she wanted to hook up, she couldn"t just sit back and expect him do all the work.
The interest was mutual. She just knew it. But maybe her leaving when he came back outside struck him as a lack of interest. That and her pretense of being more interested in her book than in him.
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