Xavier
I rolled my head as I tried focusing on the lecture.
Hell, I just got out of a debate with the opps, and now I was in a history course feeling like I was going through the same thing.
All the shit sounded like a blur to me. Black this, oppression that.
I was over it all. Here I was, a junior and still undecided about what I wanted to do.
I was so sure about my career in basketball that I didn’t bother to think about a real major, so I decided on something like a history major.
No matter how much I tried to focus, my mind kept going back to the fact that a nigga couldn’t ball.
Although they told me it was only temporary, it felt permanent.
How did I go from being the star of the team to being a fucking bench warmer?
The thought of it all only agitated me because I knew we had a home game coming up and I had to be there.
As I tried to tune back in to what the professor was saying, I noticed Anika looking at me. It wasn’t a gaze of attraction, but more so because she wanted to ask me a question. I pulled my eyes away because there were certain people I didn’t give my energy to, and she was one of them.
Anika Castro had the scarlet mark on her chest. I’d heard so many things about her, from her being a pass-around to her being a walking, undetected AIDS case. I wasn’t sure what was true and what was a lie, but I did know I didn’t want any parts.
I focused back on the professor, who now began asking questions. “Can anyone give me one of the biggest social issues we have as Black Americans?”
Shit, being looked at like a fucking money grab, I thought. Nobody said anything, and I could see the professor’s eyes scanning the room. When her eyes landed on me, I scooted down in my seat. Fuck! I tried looking away, but I knew that shit wasn’t going to work.
“Mr. Keyton. I’m sure your answer would probably be the best. Can you share?”
I ran my hand through my hair as I shrugged. “I don’t know,” I mumbled.
She frowned as she really focused her attention on me now. “Are you sure? I mean, you are one of the biggest athletes on campus. Does the sport in which you play not have any social issues or inequalities?”
Why is she doing this to me? For the last two and a half years, I’d been able to go under the radar and not have to actively participate in these types of things. I was a golden boy, one who let my on-court skills work for me in class.
When the door swung open, Phoebe stepped in. The professor’s eyes snapped her way. She glanced down at her watch, then back at Phoebe.
“Sorry, I’m late,” Phoebe mumbled as she scurried past to find a seat.
When she noticed me sitting only a few rows from where she stood, I figured she would go to the other side, but to my surprise, she sat directly in front of me.
The smell of her curly hair wafted across my nose, making me sit up.
My attention was now on the back of Phoebe’s head.
I was waiting for her to turn around and look at me, but she hadn’t.
“Mr. Keyton? Are you going to answer the question?”
Phoebe still hadn’t turned around, and now I was curious why. I quickly glanced up.
“Nah, I don’t have an answer.”
The professor gave me a tight-lipped smile and moved on to the next person. I glanced back at Phoebe as I leaned forward. “So, you’re ignoring me?”
She turned slightly. “How can you ignore someone you don’t know?”
I sucked my teeth. “Oh, so you're going to act like you weren’t chilling with my friends and me?”
She scoffed. “Xavier, please. Thirty minutes of being on shrooms was hardly chilling with you and your friends. Leave me alone. Besides, you can’t even answer a question she’s asking you, but you want me to answer you. Get a life.”
I nodded slowly as I sat back. The fact that she was shutting me down like that.
.. I didn’t know if I wanted to chase her or leave her alone.
When I got Phoebe’s number and decided to take her around my friends, I didn’t think much of it, but now that she wasn’t fucking with me at all, it felt like an insult.
We had gone through another thirty minutes before class ended.
Before I could get out of my seat, Phoebe was gone.
I wasn’t sure if she was trying to play hard to get, but she was making it hard not to get frustrated.
I pulled my phone out to text her.
I watched as the bubbles appeared and disappeared. I heard what Dio said and tried to listen, but I could see Shorty was going to make it hard. I went to stick my phone in my pocket when her text came in.
I slid my phone in my pocket and hobbled out of the class. I was pretty much done for the day, but had one more stop to make, and that was to see my coach.
Before I could even make some headway, Anika came up to me. “Hey, Xavier.”
“What’s up?”
“Um, I wanted to ask you about your friend.”
I frowned at her. “What friend, and why don’t you ask this friend yourself?”
She ran her tongue over her teeth before running her hand down the back of her short haircut. Anika was cute; she gave hood girl vibes, but the story behind her body count was scary.
“The friend you're riding bikes with.”
I bellowed a hearty laugh. “Who, Dio?”
“Yeah, him.”
I shook my head. “Wrong nigga. Anika, that ain’t the one. Trust me. Besides, he got a girl, and the last thing you want is those kinds of problems.”
She looked me up and down. “Is that a you’re going to give me his number or nah?”
I leaned forward. “That’s a he’s off limits and don’t fuck with it.”
“So, maybe I should tell Phoebe not to fuck with you.”
I pointed at her. “Oh, you’re one of those. Tell her what you want. If you choose to approach Dio, that’s on you, but don’t say I didn’t warn you. Besides, he doesn’t fuck with hoes.”
“And Phoebe fucks over niggas like you, so I guess we both have to be careful,” she finished and walked off.
What the fuck did that mean? Was Phoebe some sort of hoe? There was no way I was taking advice from a bitch like Anika.
***
I finally made it to the gym. When I entered, I noticed my coach was talking to some fancy-looking Black nigga.
He looked like he had just come from some vintage fashion event.
I stayed back, trying to eavesdrop while remaining unnoticed.
They exchanged a few more words, shook hands, and parted ways.
Once the guy left through the other side of the building, I called out to my coach. He stopped, turned, and met me halfway.
“Zay, how are you feeling, my man?”
I shrugged. “A’ight, I guess. Look, I came to talk to you about this roommate of mine.”
Before I continued, he held his hand up. “I know you didn’t want one, but with not only our team but the football team growing as well, we needed to maximize the space. Unfortunately, he will be staying there.”
I was confused. I had always gotten what I wanted. I was like LeBron James: when he threw a fit, boom, someone on the team was gone. Or if they called an obvious foul and he cried about it, boom, shit would be fixed.
“That’s crazy,” I mumbled. “So, basically, now that I’m hurt, I’m disposable?”
He chuckled. “Zay, it has nothing to do with you being hurt, but everything to do with school funding and space. Maybe you being hurt is truly a blessing in disguise. I think your priorities and what you see as an obligation should be reflected on. My team isn’t about who’s the better player, but rather who is a team player.
This is not your team. Somehow, you’ve gotten lost in it all, so let me take you off your high horse.
You will not be on this court until next season.
Besides, someone has sponsored us, and we will now be stronger than ever with new everything,” he finished as he tapped my shoulder.
What the hell just happened? Did this nigga kick me off the team? Now I was fucking irritated, and as bad as I didn’t want to be bothered, I promised to meet up with Phoebe, and I was going to do just that.
“Fuck!” I shouted before hobbling out of the building.