Page 51 of You've Got a Place Here, Too
“Are they here yet?” I ask when I come up alongside him.
He nods. “They’re securing the headdress on the Big Chief right now. Should be ready to go soon.”
Two minutes later, five members of Xavier University’s marching band, the Golden Sound, lead the vibrantly costumed Mardi Gras Indian krewe on a second line through the event space. Women in ball gowns and men in tuxedos hop around with as much fanfare as those who were dancing in the street at the second line Kendrick and I attended Uptown.
I look over at him now and the happiness filling my heart overwhelms me.
A month ago, I thought there was nothing more important than living up to the expectations I’d set for myself. But there’s so much more to my college experience than checking off a list of accomplishments.
It took me a while to see it, but I finally do.
I grab Kendrick by the hand and drag him to where the others are following behind the band.
“What do you think you’re doing?” Kendrick asks, an astonished, adorable smile on his face.
I snatch a cloth napkin from one of the tables and wave it in the air in time to the beat.
“Showing you how this is done,” I say. “I may not be a native,but after living here for three years, I figure I must have a little New Orleans in me. I’m ready to embrace it.”
It’s nearly onea.m.and the last of the revelers have finally exited the ballroom. A cleaning crew will come tomorrow, but Tabitha borrowed pieces from her family’s vast collection of Mardi Gras memorabilia to serve as centerpieces, and I want to make sure they are returned unscathed.
Just as I reach over to grab a plaque of mounted Mardi Gras doubloons, a hand wraps around my waist and twirls me. Kendrick captures my left hand and holds it up, then rocks us from side to side.
“Kendrick, what are you doing?” I ask with a laugh.
“I figured now that everyone is gone, the hardworking committee chair can finally let her hair down and have a little fun.”
“Did you forget who got you on the floor during the second line?” I ask him.
“That is not the kind of fun I’m talking about,” he says.
His eyes crinkle at the corners as he lowers his head and captures my lips in a slow, sweet kiss. It’s tender and hot and everything I ever dreamed about when it came to kissing Kendrick Stewart. Knowing I will get to kiss him like this from now on makes the moment even more enjoyable.
When he finally releases my lips, I look up at him and smile.
“For future reference, I’m always up for this kind of fun.”
He laughs and kisses me again.
I Have Come Home
Carla Bruce
When the heavy wooden door to room 501B in Douglass Hall opens to admit Audrey, mid-laugh and bathed in yellow fluorescent light, Neese forgets everything she’d opened her mouth to say. Chairs squeak and heads turn at the interruption, much to Audrey and her friend’s instant, visible mortification, both clamping a hand over their mouths.
“Thanks for joining us,” Blue offers dryly, nonetheless shooing the student seated beside her backward in order to widen the circle. “Get seated, we’re just doing introductions.”
“I’msosorry.” Audrey’s wide brown eyes skate over the assembled group of mostly upperclassmen, lingering momentarily on Neese—out of recognition, or consternation at whatever expression Neese is making? She can’t be sure—before she plops into a chair beside her friend, hands clasped nervously in her lap. “Got lost trying to find the basement. It won’t happen again.”
“You’re good.” Blue laughs, showing off a row of small pearly teeth, bisected by a pleasing middle gap. She holds the attention of the room easily, secure in her body and power in a way that seems far beyond her twentysomething years. Neese can’t be sure of her exact age, though she knows she’s a third-year. “This isn’tclass, okay? I’m Blue. And this here”—she gestures to the stocky, sharp-eyed man to her right—“is my partner in crime, Cyrus.”
“Welcome, welcome,” Cyrus offers, his tone somehow both haughty and inviting. He gestures imperiously to the small group. “Welcome to our inaugural Lambda Student Alliance meeting. We were about to hear from—” he gestures in the direction of Neese, who blinks, licking her lips self-consciously as all eyes shift back to her. Including Audrey’s.
“Hi,” Neese begins, flummoxed. She says a silent prayer of thanks that she’d selected a dark blue sweater this morning, as it hides the perspiration that has begun to trickle from her armpits and down the center of her spine. Is her afro even? Her fingers itch with the urge to check, so she rubs them against her denim-clad thighs instead. Everyone is still watching her, the silence becoming oppressive. “Sorry, I’m— What was the question?”
Blue’s gaze flickers over to Audrey, then resettles on Neese with an upward twitch of her lip. “Your name? Year? And anything else you’d like to share about why you’re here today.”
“Yes, I’m Neese. Short for Bernice. Please don’t call me Bernice,” Neese babbles, drawing a few laughs from the others. She steadfastly avoids Audrey’s gaze, taking in the other faces without seeing them at all. “And, um, 1979—”
