Crack Head II. Lisa Lennox

a few seconds of silence, a girl raised her hand. She sat in the same row as Dink and Laci but because the classroom was so large and filled with students, neither could see exactly where she was. “The norm would be what is socially acceptable. Going back to the question you asked earlier about good, bad and evil, socially speaking God and angels are good and the devil and evil are bad.”

      “Why is that?” Mr. Giencanna asked, now with a mischievous grin on his face.

      “Because,” she spoke, “how else could you justify the world being created? The Bible says God created heaven and earth. If it weren't for him, none of us would be here.”

      Everyone turned to look at the girl while she spoke then they looked back at the professor.

      “Okay,” Mr. Giencanna adjusted his posture, “I'm glad you mentioned this. By a show of hands, how many of you believe there is such a thing as a devil?” Most students raised their hands. “Why is the devil perceived as a bad thing?” he quizzed again.

      “Because,” the same girl answered sharply, this time with an attitude, “that's just how it is. Haven't you read the Bible? Damn.”

      Students began to whisper amongst themselves, sensing her attitude.

      “Well if you read the Bible,” Dink countered out loud, “you would know that the devil was an angel, but did you forget that?”

      Students' necks turned and all eyes focused on him.

      Taken aback by the comment, the female student tried to look in the direction of the voice that just called her out. “I know that! The devil is in a different category than God and angels,” she spat back.

      “And why do you say that?” Dink continued, trying to lean forward to look at the girl. “He was the angel of light and was one of the most beautiful angels in heaven.” Laci's eyes grew wide. She never thought Dink knew anything about the Bible. “Just like every day people, he got full of himself and was kicked out of heaven and sent to earth. Then, and only then, did he become ‘the devil.’” Dink used his index and middle fingers to mimic quotation marks.

      “Well, the devil is still evil,” the girl barked angrily and turned her lips up in disgust.

      “Why? Is it because you were raised to believe that? What proof do you have? The way you're talking, you acting like you know the devil first hand.”

      Some people laughed.

      “Well…” she stammered, not knowing what to say next.

      “Listen to what you're saying, the devil is evil, but he was an angel, but angels are good. Isn't that antithetical?” Dink continued to challenge.

      This time, the whispers became more audible and filled the air.

      “What are you doing?” Laci whispered harshly, looking at Dink. Her face was flushed and her eyes darted around the lecture hall. Dink looked at her and then around the class to see what she was trying to tell him with her eyes. She shook her head in disbelief.

      Before bringing his focus back on the professor, Dink saw something that was so noticeable that he was surprised he didn't peep it when he walked inside the classroom. The class was predominately white. Besides him and the girl he challenged, there were only five more Black students in the class. He could just imagine what the white students were thinking—a black man challenging God's existence, but that wasn't the case.

      “Quiet down now,” Professor Giencanna said in an attempt to calm the class. “Quiet down.” His warden-like expression softened when a smile crept across his face. He was glad that he chose a topic that would generate an emotional discussion that would bring him to the point he was about to make. “Now,” he said as he began walking back and forth in front of the podium, “by a show of hands, how many of you have seen either?”

      Dink glanced at Laci and wondered what she was thinking at that very moment.

      Laci wanted to raise her hand to say that she had seen the devil, but she was confused. Was it the devil himself, or did she witness hell on earth?

      “So,” Professor Giencanna walked around to the microphone that was attached to the podium. He leaned forward to speak, but was interrupted.

      “Dude, you trippin,” a male voice bellowed, irritated with the questioning. The professor looked in the direction of the voice. “This ain't no damn religion class. This is Philosophy…Philosophy 101 to be exact. You know, an introductory course.”

      There were a few people who laughed at the remark but they were also wondering where the lecture was headed.

      “What is your name young man?” The professor asked.

      “T.J.,” the young man answered like he should know. Mr. Giencanna's mouth opened to say something but Dink spoke first.

      “Look, you're right, this is not a religion class, but what he's trying to get you to see is this,” Dink sighed heavily. T.J. raised his eyebrow and looked at Dink like he was out of his mind. “Why are we so selective with things we want to see or believe? When he asked the initial question, if we've heard of good or evil, you answered with examples that were religion based, which can be very controversial.”

      Mr. Giencanna's eyes beamed at Dink's revelation. “As a society,” Dink continued, “we tend to believe in things that we've been taught to believe, even if we can't prove their existence, as in religion, or we as a society may have opinions about customs that don't fall within what we consider the norm but is it necessarily right or wrong? No. Questions of how people live, their ethics, and their logic is Philosophy.”

      Chatter filled the air because Dink now had everyone thinking. Mr. Giencanna was smiling so hard, his face looked strained.

      “You know, he has a point,” someone confirmed.

      “I never looked at it that way,” another person admitted.

      Again, everyone looked at Dink, but this time, in a more accepting manner, but they sneered at T.J. because he just got told.

      “Dang, T.J., I know you wished you didn't open your mouth, huh?” Simone, the girl next to T.J., spoke.

      The class laughed.

      “Excellent answer Mr. Highsmith!” Professor Giencanna exclaimed enthusiastically, grinning from ear to ear, but ignorning the other student's comment. “You took the words right out of my mouth.” All eyes were back on him except for T.J.'s who continued to stare at Dink. T.J. was pissed more so than embarrassed.

      Dink leaned back in his chair waiting to hear what else the teacher had to say. Within seconds, Dink felt someone staring at him. He looked to his left and saw T.J. leaning back in his chair, mean mugging him. In the hood, that was a silent threat, so Dink raised his arms outward in a man-to-man challenge.

      “Wassup,” he mouthed. I know this punk don't wanna fuck with me, Dink thought to himself. He didn't want to show the straight up nigga side of him but if he had to, he'd get ‘bout it. Wasn't nothing but a thing.

      T.J. turned and looked back at the front of the class.

      “Yeah, I ain't think so,” Dink mumbled under his breath.

      He didn't know why T.J. was tripping. Dink was merely trying to explain Professor Giencanna's reasoning in a way that other students could understand and it worked. Dink was used to schooling people in the streets; however, he had to remember that he was no longer in the streets. Having never once thought about higher education, even after scoring a 1440 on his SATs when he was younger, he knew that if he ever had the opportunity to attend college, he had something to contribute to the class but would have to understand that everyone was there for the same thing—to learn.

      Dink thought momentarily and was sure his tone may have been a little harsh and realized he could have embarrassed T.J. That was not his intention, so he made a mental note to holla at him after class.

      Dink shook his head then turned his attention