Chapter 1

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If you're on time, you're late! I could hear my step mummy, as I adoringly called her, say to me whenever I leisurely arrived at events. Today, on the first day of my college career I was not going to be on time. I like to call it, making an entrance.

Looking as fly as I looked, why not. Always make an entrance, that was my saying. And I slayed today in a stylish green tank top with a picture of a brown skin sista with a fro, right on! and my flowy, white, pink, and green skirt. Just above my knees, not showing too much leg, although I was only five four so there was not much leg to show.

Curls popping in my hair from a fresh roller-set, skin doing its black-girl-magic-melanin-glowing thing. Just a touch of shimmer on my cheeks, eyes, and gloss on my lips, I knew I was too cute. Equipped with my coordinated green over-the-shoulder, trendy laptop bag, and my three-inch green wedge sandals, I looked good.

And an entrance I made!

Stumbling into the lecture room, missing a step, and tumbling down the stairs.

The professor was in mid-sentence and stopped to focus on my disruptive action.

I hopped up like I meant to do that, hoping not to have twisted my ankle. "I'm all right!"

Nothing broke, I ascertained quickly, so I scooted over to the nearest empty seat. A hottie tottie guy with locs grinned at me, checking me out. I blushed.

"Nice entrance, fresh."

How could he know I was a freshman? English 101 could be a clue, but then we all were freshmen. I looked around the class, to see if I notice any familiar faces. Not that I knew anyone at all, having just moved into my dorm room three days ago.

But there in the back of the lecture hall were my two suitemates, snickering at me. Great! They barely talked to me as is, were already fast friends themselves, and I was the loser outsider.

No worries, Mizzou was a gigantic school with lots more people to meet, and I was a social person. Not shy, not one to hold my tongue, I said whatever was on my mind.

"You're bleeding."

"Hmmm?"

"There." Hottie Tottie pointed to my leg, there was a big scratch and blood dripped down my leg. I guess I made the entrance I wanted.

I was going to bleed out in class, pass out on the floor and embarrass myself for the next four years. Quick thinking, I dug into my bag, pulled out a feminine pad, and opened it, no fear or embarrassment, I applied it to the scratch and held it there with pressure to stop the bleeding.

Yes, it was a pad! Yes, I still wore those! It was saving my life right now so I really did not care what others thought.

Focusing on the professor as he went over the class, I pretended as if it was just another day. If I know anything, it's resilience. Coming from my background, and now attending Mizzou was a big deal. This poor little girl from the north side of St. Louis.

My parents were young when they had me, and they were wild. Runaways actually. They were running around the streets like they were the hood Bonnie and Clyde, robbing and stealing, sleeping in abandoned houses, wreaking havoc, and getting in dangerous situations. Till they found out my mother was pregnant with me.

My mother had no choice but to go home, and try and have a normal pregnancy. Maybe the street life wasn't cut out for her. Thankfully, my mother calmed down enough to have me, but it was my grandmother who really raised me. My mother was a kid herself and still wanted to run wild.

My father was no better, selling drugs, stealing cars, stripping them, selling the parts, and basically living the wild life. Having a baby did not slow him down. Sometimes I wondered how either graduated high school. They attended the same high school I did, Sumner High School, across the street from my grandmother's house, and around the corner from my house in The Ville neighborhood.

It used to be a thriving Black community, but now mostly empty lots, abandoned homes, and a place where dreams died. Not many in my school had college as an option, and I did not think it was mine either till...well, more on that later.

Hottie Tottie next to me is catching my attention again.

"What's good Mean Green Jellybean?"

"What did you call me?"

"Obvi you're into green," he said, while class ended, and he gathered his bag and stood. "You need a real bandage and some antiseptic on that cut Green. Can't get all infected and have you limping around here."

When I stood, I felt a little pain, but I was a G, never let them see you in pain.

"Oh, I'm good."

"No, you're not Green. Wanta head to the student medical center?"

"I have another class." The easy lie slipped from my mouth. I did not need to be further embarrassed with the Hottie.

I turned to walk away and my suitemates stood before me.

"Hey, girl." Allura was the spoiled rich kid that grew up a military brat.

"We saw you fall, are you okay?" Twyla was the raven-haired, dark-eyed white girl, who probably thought she was hip now to room with two Black girls.

"I think she needs to see a nurse," Hottie butted in.

"It's just a small cut," I said, trying to brush it off. "Neosporin, a Band-Aid, I'm fine."

"I'm King Williams, by the way."

Of course, his name was King. Of course! Hottie like him was not called Billy or Sammy or Derrick. King, because he looked like a King. And good-looking guys like him never were interested in me.

I was the dateless wonder. Eighteen years old and have never been on a date. Maybe the last of the forgotten breed. I even attended my prom solo with a group of friends that did have dates.

"Since we are all in the same class, we should link up."

Allura grinned, looking him over. "I like the sound of that."

"I'm Twyla." She smiled with pouty lips, attempting to look sexy except she looked like something smelled bad. "We're in Dorchester Hall, just swing by anytime."

Swing by anytime? Where do they do that at? Not her. No boys were allowed in my room. That was a no-no.

See, on top of me being a dateless wonder, I was Virgin Mary as well, and I had no issues with the title. I was not, in any way, shape, or form, sleeping around, humping around, kicking it, smashing it, and definitely not linking up with any guy or girl...unless he was the one.

I do not want to end up like my mother, bitter and alone, sleeping around with various men, trying to find someone to love her. My daddy may be a lot of things, but at least he changed his life for good.

My daddy is my hero.

After going to jail at nineteen, once he was released, he was ready to do better. He went to trade school, learned how to fix cars legally, and opened up his own shop.

But that's not why he was my hero. My daddy showed me what real, true love is, and that is what I wanted. Nothing else would do for me. I wanted what my daddy and step mummy Angel had.

"Imma holla at all y'all later then." King gave them a salute and then walked off.

"Shit! I love it here!" Allura followed him with her eyes.

"I have not seen an ugly guy yet!" Twyla said dreamily. "Ravyn, do you have dibs?"

I'm Ravyn Lawrence, and I do not have dibs on any guy, whatsoever.

Hey readers!

This is new for me. Not writing about college, I love that trope, but first-person narration, some kind of comic relief type coming-of-age, new adult, chick lit-ish story. See, I have no idea what I'm writing but thanks for reading.

What do you think of Ravyn so far? Is she much different than when we first met her in Hook an Angel?


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