Chapter 3

Eleven years Ago:

Narrative: Nathan Ellis

I stepped onto campus, exhilaration surging through me. Finally free from my parents’ watchful eyes, the world stretched out before me with endless promise. As I wandered across the sprawling university grounds, my attention drifted over the sea of multicultural faces. But then, amid the crowd, something else caught my eye entirely.

The girls.

Fuck me, they were beautiful. As I strolled past them, my gaze flickered to each pair of eyes that met mine—some sparkled with inviting smiles while others narrowed in cool appraisal.

I wasn’t the most attractive guy on campus. As I strolled past the girls, my gaze lingered on the buff, ivy league style guys who exuded masculinity with every stride. Their chiseled features and confident swagger made me all too aware of my own average looks.

I entered the registration office where an unassuming girl with glasses was reviewing the register. After verifying my information, she confirmed my dorm assignment prividing me with details to get my photo taken to get my ID card.

And then she smiled with a practiced line she’d likely recited a hundred times that day.

“Welcome to Ivy Towers, where the only thing higher than our standards is our student debt!”

Her smile was so exaggerated it seemed to stretch unnaturally across her face, a forced expression that brought to mind the unsettling grin of the Joker.

Standing there, momentarily speechless, I offered an uneasy smile and muttered, “Thank you?” Unsure if that was the right reply. Shaken by her unnerving expression, I turned away feeling more disturbed than anything else.

“By the way your dorm room number 404, hope you find it,” she quipped with a sly grin, leaving me to puzzle over her unspoken implication as I simply nodded.

I finally reached dorm room 404, its door slightly ajar as if beckoning me inside. Pushing it open, I found the room empty—no roommate in sight yet. My footsteps echoed as I surveyed the small space. Two twin beds stood on opposite sides, each covered with plain blue sheets that matched the generic curtains hanging askew over the single window. A couple of desks sat beneath shelves crammed with textbooks and scattered papers, hinting at previous occupants’ late-night study sessions.

The room was cozy yet chaotic, with takeout containers strewn across one desk and a pile of clothes spilling out of an open drawer. A flickering neon sign cast an intimate glow over everything, making the worn furniture seem almost inviting. I dropped my bag on the nearest bed and sank onto the mattress, its springs creaking under my weight. The scent of stale coffee and old pizza lingered in the air—a familiar aroma of college life that somehow felt both comforting and overwhelming all at once.

As I settled in, I couldn’t shake the unease from that strange encounter at registration. That girl’s unnerving smile flashed in my mind again, sending another shiver down my spine. But here in this messy little haven, surrounded by signs of countless other students who’d called this place home before me, I felt a glimmer of excitement too. Maybe this was exactly what I needed—a fresh start away from everyone’s expectations back home.

Narrative: Kiara Washington

As the taxi cruised along the bustling Boston streets, the driver glanced at me in his rearview mirror. “First time in Boston?” he asked casually. I offered a soft nod in response. “Yeah,” I murmured, clutching my bag tighter on my lap as I added, “It’s my first day at university.” The driver—a middle-aged man with warm brown skin and a thick Jamaican accent—smiled knowingly at my nervous energy before returning his gaze to the road ahead.

“Quite far from Georgia,” he remarked, his eyes meeting mine briefly in the rearview mirror. I shifted in my seat, my grip tightening on my bag. “Yes,” I acknowledged quietly, “but it’s one of the top universities for my field. I’m really grateful for the opportunity.” His smile widened with approval as he returned his focus to the road. “That’s excellent news—I can already tell you’ve got what it takes to succeed, young lady.”

“You are exactly what this country needs, smart black women.” His words hung heavy in the air. A polite smile touched my lips, though inside I cringed at being cast as a symbol. I appreciated his sentiment, truly. Yet the idea of carrying that weight—the expectation of representing an entire community—felt stifling. This journey wasn’t about fulfilling some collective ideal; it was deeply personal. I’m pursuing this path for myself alone.

I recalled the moment my father had left me at the airport. Tears blurred my vision as I realized this was the first time I would truly be separated from my parents. He had been my constant companion, his presence woven into every memory of my life until now.

As we pulled up to the curb, Dad turned to me with a tender expression. “Remember Kiara,” he began softly, his voice thick with emotion, “don’t forget to call, okay?” I felt my throat tighten as I leaned into him for one last embrace before this new chapter. “I promise daddy,” I choked out between tears, my arms clinging tightly around his neck. With a final squeeze, I gathered my courage and stepped out onto the pavement, waving goodbye as he drove away. The sight of his taillights disappearing into the distance marked the first time I would truly be without my parents’ constant presence.

Stepping onto campus, my gaze swept across the sprawling grounds in awe. My straightened hair, a departure from its natural state, demanded careful maintenance. With my father’s financial support, finding a nearby salon to keep it properly conditioned would soon become a priority.

“Welcome to Ivy Towers, where the coffee is strong and the WiFi is stronger — until it isn’t!”

With a wry twist of her lips, “Is that really what you’re supposed to say?” I questioned, genuinely uncertain. She arched an eyebrow in response, replying flatly, “Does it matter?” Her casual demeanor left me puzzled as she pressed a small card into my hand. “Here—feel free to write out a complaint if you like. Honestly, I could use some excitement around here.”

I smiled and offered, “Perhaps I will take you up on that complaint. I’m Kiara,” extending my hand toward her. A flicker of surprise crossed her face before she returned the smile, grasping my palm firmly. “Olivia,” she introduced herself in turn.

After exchanging pleasantries with Olivia—who struck me as witty and potentially friend material—I made my way upstairs to dorm room 302. Opening the door, I discovered another young woman already settled on her bed, headphones firmly in place as she nodded rhythmically to whatever played through her ears.

She sang aloud, “Man! I feel like a woman,” and I laughed softly, recognizing the unmistakable strains of Shania Twain drifting from her headphones.

As our eyes connected, a flush of embarrassment spread across her cheeks. She sat up abruptly, pulling off her headphones. “Oh hey! Are you my new roommate?” she asked, her voice carrying a hint of uncertainty.

“I’m Ava,” she announced as we exchanged introductions. “I study Developmental and Social Psychology, so consider yourself warned—you’re likely to become one of my test subjects.” I chuckled and replied, “That sounds perfect. I’m pursuing Economics and Business Management, and I’ll be sure to send you an invoice for your participation.”

Narrative: Nathan Ellis

As I settled into the dorm room, I began clearing the table cluttered with empty beer cans. Who lives like this, I wondered with disgust, some kind of slob? Just then a guy burst through the door announcing loudly, “Fuck yeah! I’m getting laid tonight.” I froze mid-cleanup, stunned by his crude declaration.

The athletic guy with the chiseled jawline gave me a once-over. “Yo dude, welcome,” he said casually as he gripped my hand firmly and clapped me on the shoulder with enough force to nearly knock me off balance.

“Look man, you need to follow the rules around here,” he continued gruffly. “When I’ve got a girl coming over, you clear out alright? Apart from that we’ll be cool.”

“Okaaay, I’m Nathan by the way” I said finally introducing myself, “Tyler” he replied.

“What if I have a girl over, would you clear out?” I shot back, testing his limits. Tyler flashed that confident grin of his. “If you could beat me in an arm wrestle,” he challenged knowingly, flexing his bicep with a smirk. “Just kidding,” he quickly added with a chuckle. “Of course I’d clear out too ... but my girls come first.” He shrugged unapologetically before adding more seriously, “That’s just how it is.” I considered his terms for a moment before nodding in agreement.

I sat in the campus cafeteria, a steaming mug of coffee warming my hands as I pulled up the university’s website. My class schedule stared back at me from the screen—I’d be starting tomorrow.

As I surveyed the bustling cafeteria, I noticed the lively atmosphere filled with students engaged in animated conversations. Despite the overall diversity, certain cliques seemed to exclude outsiders while others clustered by race—some tables predominantly featured black students sitting together and others were mostly white.

The glaring racial divisions in the cafeteria stirred something deep within me. My law degree wasn’t merely about landing a prestigious job; it was about making a real difference. I wanted to contribute to society as a whole, to fight for fairness and equality—the values my parents had instilled in me from childhood. Dad always said everyone deserved a fair trial, and now that I’d been accepted at this university, he saw it as the first step toward building that future.