Next Semester Read Online Free Page A

dorm, there were so many cars in the small lot, we had to park illegally, beside the garbage can.
    “Marshall Hall,” I said aloud to myself, as I got out of the car and stretched, looking around at everybody’s parents helping them take their things in their rooms.
    I thought about my mom. I missed her already. Apparently, my uncle missed the college life a little more than he led on to. He was leaning up against his door, eating some funions, shaking his head side to side slowly as a girl in skin-tight jeans bent over to tie her shoe.
    “Man, it feels good to be back on the yard again,” I said, grinning wide.
    “You ain’t lying,” my uncle said, devouring a handful of chips as he stared recklessly.
    “You mind popping the trunk though, unc?” I asked.
    “Oh, okay,” he said, reaching through the window to press the button, without ever taking his eyes off of the sexy, chocolate-complexioned girl. “I wonder if she needs some help.”
    “Not from you, with your breath smelling like sauerkraut,” I said with a chuckle.
    As I struggled to loosen my suitcase from all of the junk my uncle had piled up in his trunk, I heard a very familiar voice behind me.
    “Well look what the wind blew in,” someone said. “This stud swear he’s flickin’!”
    With that all that Midwest slang, I knew who it was before I even turned around.
    “My guy!” I said, giving Fresh a handshake, then a hug. “Fresh!”
    “In the flesh!” he said.
    “What’s up with you, blood?”
    “Tryna spit my game at all of the top notches on campus before you get a chance. I thought I had more time.”
    “Time’s up, playboy,” I said.
    As always, Fresh was rockin’ the newest J’s, accompanied by the matching black-and-red Jordan jumpsuit, of course. Fresh and I were about the same height, but he had a little more weight on him than me. His complexion was one shade shy of pitch-black, but he had teeth as white as piano keys and waves for days. As important as a rifle is to a soldier, Fresh’s brush was never out of arm’s reach.
    “I see you didn’t waste any time getting fly,” I said, popping his collar.
    “Well you know they call me Fresh, so I try to give ’em a reason,” he said, calmly removing his brush from his back pocket and gently stroking his waves.
    “Where’s Moms?” he asked.
    “She couldn’t make it out here this time.”
    “So who picked you up from the airport?”
    “My Uncle Leroy. You met him when he dropped me off last semester, right?”
    “Nah,” he said.
    “Yo, unc! Lemme introduce you to my boy,” I said, wrapping my arm around Fresh’s neck, and pulling him around the car. “This is my boy Lamont, from Chicago. We all call him Fresh.”
    “Well, how are ya, Fresh? ” he asked, chuckling as he extended his hand to dap Fresh up. “I’m J.D.’s uncle, Leroy. They call me Uncle Leroy. If you don’t mind me asking, how did you get a nickname like Fresh?”
    “It’s kind of a long story. But basically because of the way I dress. I guess I’ve always been fly.”
    “Well,” my uncle said, cracking up, “I don’t think there’s anything wrong with that. He says he’s always been fly. He’s incredible! So what part of Chicago are ya from?”
    “West side.”
    “I’m familiar with Chi-Town. I’ve got some family there. Whereabout on the west side?”
    “K-Town.”
    “Oh, well that explains plenty. That neighborhood is full of pimps and hustlers. Yeah, I know that area well. It can be pretty rough.”
    “Certain parts,” Fresh said.
    “Well, you two are definitely cut from the same cloth as far as your upbringing is concerned. As I’m sure J.D. has told you, Oakland is no walk in the park. I’m glad both of you made it out and are doing something positive with your lives. I wish more of our young men would do the same.”
    I don’t know whether or not my uncle continued to speak after that sentence. It didn’t matter. Nothing could have been more important than the