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been in one…but I know that three years is a long time for things to not get serious…”
    “Duly noted…”
    “But I also believe that if you don’t want to do this, you shouldn’t have to,” Natalie said proudly. “No matter what your parents or her parents or what she says…it’s your life…”
    Brandon looked at her. “That’s the smartest thing I’ve heard in years…”
    “Shouldn’t be…it’s common sense…”
    “You try and ask white people what the definition of common sense is and I guarantee you that you won’t get a direct answer…”
    “I can see that,” she said.
    “You know what, Natalie? I’m most certainly going to need your number now…I have to talk to you…I have to talk to someone with some pure, fucking, common damn sense!”
    Natalie’s face curled. “You won’t get anything from me if you don’t fix that language…”
    He huffed, smiled grandly, placed his cup down again and said, “Duly noted…”


    She wasn’t sure what her academic advisor was thinking when she suggested that she register for a philosophy course her second semester of her freshman year. After all, she was a biochemistry major who wanted nothing more than to take chemistry and biology and math classes till she felt content. Those things made sense to her. Philosophy required abstract thinking, required sitting there for long periods of time, thinking of why some things were logical and why others weren’t, or pondering the true meaning of life. She’d much rather sit down with a page full of equations in front of her, where she could easily figure out the steps and solve the problems without hesitation or frustration. Still, her advisor said that she certainly wouldn’t graduate if she didn’t take the course, and she figured that she might as well get it out of the way.
    Natalie had had the most wonderful Christmas, which made it incredibly hard for her to have the desire to come back to the crammed dorm room she shared with Sammy and sometimes Billy, who, by the first of January had developed the nice habit of smoking weed. When Sammy came back to the room, she absolutely reeked of it, causing Natalie to crack the window above her bed, in thirty-degree weather.
    “I don’t appreciate it that you come back in our room smelling of marijuana,” she wanted to tell her. “You’re a stupid fool for getting involved with it! And you’re a stupid fool for getting involved with him! Where’s your sense, girl? Did you lose it in the cloud of pot smoke?”
    She sometimes wished she’d have an escape, somewhere off campus she could go, where peace and quiet prevailed.
    She picked an afternoon class time, leaving her mornings free, where she could sleep in, because that’s when Sammy chose to take her classes. She would walk all the way to Old College somewhere close to three, taking in the soft, chilly breeze of winter, counting the days till she got a break on Martin Luther King Jr.’s birthday. She hugged her pea coat close, walked into the building, shoving past the students, scurrying to class, convening in the hallways, talking of their amazing Christmases.
    She could relate.
    She walked into 113; saw a packed classroom, and the desks filled up quickly. Her advisor had warned her of a surplus of transfer students, and the administration cutting back the amount of classes offered that spring semester of 2001. So, she felt incredibly lucky when she found a seat in the back, one of only two remaining in the class. The teacher arrived shortly following, and just as he began to shut the door, he pushed through the door, nearly knocking the poor old professor over, scrambling to find a seat, his books nearly slipping from his long arms. He wore a red crewneck sweater, crisp jeans, and tousled black hair, appearing as if he’d just stepped out of an Abercrombie and Fitch winter catalogue. She wasn’t sure why she thought it, but she understood why Sophia might have been so protective of