Page 41 of You've Got a Place Here, Too
The built-up tension that had my shoulders touching my ears dissipates a smidge. This is something I can speak on.
“Absolutely,” I say. “Look at the feedback we received after the fair. It’s a no-brainer that we should incorporate some form of mental health support into our plans for homecoming.”
“I guess I was wrong, Dr. Cornwall,” Kendrick says. “Jordyndoeshave thoughts.”
“Thank you for sharing those with us, Ms. Walker,” Dr. Cornwall says.
I look back at my nemesis. Kendrick’s sly smile tells me that I owe him one for saving my ass, but I ignore it. I would have figured out a way to climb out of this sticky situation on my own. Eventually.
Okay, that’s probably not true. I was seconds away from looking like a fool who couldn’t keep her focus until he threw me that lifeline. I have to get my head in the game if I’m going to become SGA president.
Thatis the goal.
It is theonlygoal, other than graduating summa cum laude and securing acceptance letters to the top five law schools in the country. NBD.
Everyone in my family—from my grandfather, to my parents, to my two sisters and older brother—have all served as president of the SGA during their time at Xavier. It isn’t enough to maintain a perfect GPA, pledge the sorority that every other woman in my family belongs to, and attend church services every Sunday. None of that matters if I don’t ascend to the presidency in my senior year.
The current hype song for the New Orleans Saints football team starts playing from Dr. Cornwall’s pocket. She pulls out her phone, glances at it, then says, “I need to take this. Give me five minutes.”
The second the professor leaves the room, I turn to Kendrick.
“I didn’t need you to bail me out like that.”
“Bullshit,” he says, then he grins. “Did you space out like that on purpose?”
I scrunch up my face. “Why would I do that?”
“To get my attention. Next time, just tap me on the shoulder.”
This asshole.
I give him my middle finger and he laughs.
I roll my eyes. “You’re so ridiculous.”
He scoots his chair up and leans forward. He’s so close I can feel his breath brush against the left side of my neck. It’s warm and smells like cinnamon and coffee. My body is a straight up traitor for the way it reacts to his scent.
“All joking aside,” Kendrick says. “The work you did with the Mental Health Fair was pretty dope. I know I give you shit, but I’m also gonna give props when you deserve it. And you deserve it.”
I glance back at him, then quickly redirect my eyes to the front of the class.
“Uh, thank…thank you,” I say. And now I’m stuttering. Perfect.
Having a secret crush on Kendrick Stewart is one thing. Giving him even the slightest clue that I have a crush on him is another thing entirely. The teasing would never end. Not just from him, but from everyone who knows me.
Kendrick is a jock. I am not.
He’s on both the basketball and track teams. I can’t tell a jump shot from a…well…from whatever other type of shots they take in a basketball game. And the only time I run is when I’m trying to get to the TV beforeReal Housewives of Atlantacomeson.
Thank goodness Professor Cornwall picks this moment to return to the classroom.
I focus on her and try to ignore the tingles that continue to travel along my neck where Kendrick’s breath brushed over me.
Dr. Cornwall perches on the edge of the desk, braces her palms on either side of her, and releases a deep sigh.
“I know we still have homecoming issues to discuss, but there is another, more urgent matter we need to attend to,” she says. “The Mardi Gras Extravaganza is less than a month away. Ten minutes ago, Lacey Mitchell decided to step down as chair of the committee, along with two of the committee members.”
My gasp mingles with the others that ring out throughout the room. This is more than just urgent, it’s…everything.
