Crack Head II. Lisa Lennox

is in no way comparable to the satisfaction accorded by knowledge of the things which philosophy enables us to discover.’” He stood up and walked in front of the podium, “Class dismissed.”

      Dink got up out of his seat and flung his large backpack over his shoulder. “Let me get that for you,” he told Laci as she stuffed her notebook into her backpack.

      As people filed out of the lecture hall, a few students walked up to Dink, welcoming him to Boston University. Some patted him on his back, introduced themselves, then headed to their next class. There were those who ignored him but there was one who actually stopped to talk.

      “Yo man, that was some shit you laid out there,” a tall, toffee colored man said to Dink.

      Dink observed the man's long slender frame, clean shaven face, and short hair that looked like it may have been naturally curly instead of the Jheri curls that most folks were rockin' back in the Bronx. He wore a red and white Adidas sweat suit with matching red and white kicks. He also had a large diamond earring in his left ear, along with a Herringbone chain that didn't look like a knock off. Dude got a lil grip, Dink said to himself.

      “Hi,” he extended his hand, “I'm Steven but my friends call me Slim.” Dink suppressed a grin. The name ‘Slim’ fit Steven to a tee. He had to stand around 6-foot-8-inches tall and couldn't have weighed more than a buck fifty.

      Dink reached out to shake his hand. “Nice to meet you. I'm Darryl and this is my girl, Laci.”

      Steven smiled at her and shook her hand.

      Just then, a voice bellowed, “Slim…what up nigga, you comin?”

      Dink, Laci and Slim looked over at where the voice came from. It was T.J., and he was headed toward them.

      T. J. stood about six feet tall, had a nice muscular build with dark colored hair that he kept cut close to his head. He had amber-colored hypnotizing eyes and shapely lips that he got from his mother's side of the family. He got his coloring, strong angled jaw line and keen nose from his father's side. T.J. was exceptionally handsome. He dressed in the latest trendy clothing but still stuck out like a sore thumb. Standing firm, as if he had a point to prove, T.J. wasn't going to back down from Dink.

      “Aye, yo,” Dink called out to T.J. He wrestled with what he was about to do next. Darryl Highsmith wasn't one to apologize, especially when he did nothing wrong, but he realized that he had to be the bigger man. “Hey, about what happened earlier,” he looked at T.J. and stood in front of him, “I didn't mean to embarrass you. I was just—”

      “Embarrass me?” T.J. interrupted in a shocked tone, looking at Dink up and down. “If that's all you got, shit…you need to go back where you came from, learn the shit again, then come at me.”

      “What did you say?” Dink questioned.

      Laci looked at Dink and noticed that he instinctively clenched his fists and tightened his jaw. She knew that even approaching T.J. was a big step for him, so she quickly grabbed his hand and kissed it.

      From his observation, Dink saw that at twenty-two years old, he was probably the oldest student in class. Although he was trying to rap to T.J. man to man, he'd let him get that one off, but that was the only thing he was gonna let slide. Dink had come too far to get disrespected by a bitch ass nigga…a white one at that.

      T.J. played the game right because he was pissed. He was tired of the rejection and disrespect he received. Never in his short college life had anyone challenged him the way Dink had in class and he didn't like that. “Let's get outta dodge man.” He looked at Slim. “We got some shit to take care of at the frat house.” T.J. walked away.

      Slim watched T.J. slink away, then looked back at Dink. He knew his boy was embarrassed. As second year students at Boston University, T.J. and Slim were taking additional bullshit introductory electives just to keep their GPAs up, but they had even more nefarious reasons for taking intro courses— the freshman hotties. They knew the incoming female freshmen would be fly, and provide a new breed of bitches to dip up in. Freshmen always loved attention from the upper classmen and both T.J. and Slim were more than willing to oblige.

      Slim and T.J. were both products of broken homes and found college-life an easy way to escape their pasts. They both paid their own way because their families couldn't afford it. Unlike T.J., Slim did it the hard way – he worked two part time jobs and took out student loans.

      When T.J. saw Dink that day in the registration office, there was something about him that told him that he was more than that squirrel trying to stack nuts…he was the real deal and now here this nigga was, in college, checking him.

      T.J. never thought he'd encounter anyone with Dink's ability to think in a Philosophy 101 class. Dink was on a whole ‘nother level, and although he was a threat to him, that wasn't what bothered T.J.; that was a mere obstacle in his eyes. What really got him was that Dink had the undeniably finest chick on campus and from what he saw she wasn't going too far.

      “Don't trip offa him,” Slim said to Dink as he nodded toward T.J. “He just hatin. Aye, why don't you come down to the frat house later on? You know, have a lil drink, shoot some pool, you know…hang out, see how we do it.”

      “Frat house? You mean it's more black folks here?” Dink joked.

      Slim laughed. “Yeah man, it's—”

      “Excuse me,” a tall, slim, caramel colored honey interrupted, as she brushed past Dink, Slim and Laci. It was the same girl who sat next to T.J. during lecture. She headed toward the stoically posed T.J. She shook out her shoulder length auburn hair then said something to him. With little resistance on his part, she led him out of the lecture hall. Just as she and T.J. got to the doorway, she turned and looked at Dink from head to toe. With a raised eyebrow and a half grin on her face, she winked, and then walked out.

      “A'ight, I gotta burn out, but the offer still stands,” Slim told Dink, ignoring what just happened.

      “A'ight, cool,” Dink responded. “I just may do that.”

      The two dapped, then Slim bounced and dipped out of the lecture hall.

      “Let's go,” Laci snapped, shoving her backpack into Dink's hands.

      “What's wrong baby?” Dink asked, noticing Laci's attitude change.

      “Did you see how that girl was looking at you?”

      “Man, I wasn't even paying attention to that chick,” Dink said. Actually, he did notice the girl. She was stunning. Almost a dead ringer for his ex, Crystal. A shadow cast over Dink's face because he still couldn't get over the malicious part she played in Laci's tragic summer.

      Dink grabbed the backpack, put his hand in the small of Laci's back and escorted her out into the hallway.

      “Looks like you were really into the lecture,” Laci told him, changing the subject, as they headed outside.

      “Yeah, he said some stuff that was really deep.”

      “You're right, the whole good, bad, angel, God and Devil thing was something to really think about,” Laci admitted. “You and Mr. Giencanna were about to make that T.J. guy mad though.”

      They both laughed.

      “Well, if you think about it, Laci, he has a point. We were brought up believing in something that we were told exists but in actuality, how do we know? I mean, we know that Jesus was a man who walked the earth, but how can we validate God, the Devil or angels? What about the religions that believe in God, but don't believe in Jesus? That is truly subjective reasoning.”

      Laci chuckled. “Subjective reasoning?” She stopped and faced Dink. “I didn't even see you take notes.”

      “I have everything right here,” Dink pointed to his forehead. “How do you think I made it this far? You can't take notes on the street, sweetheart. I may be a college student now, but I'm a hustler at heart. I bet Giencanna was a hustler back in his day,” Dink joked.

      Laci