Streetz 2: The Tried

4. Pact

Carrying a stack of boxes, I stumbled onto the third floor, fumbling with my keys in my left hand and struggling to hold the boxes in my right. I slid the key into the lock and damn near broke my ass getting inside.

"Nigga who is you?" This weird ass nigga frowned, looking up from his cooktop. 

I glanced back at the door, "This room 305 ain't it?"

"Yeah?" He was just as confused as I was.

"Oh," I shrugged, realizing I was in the right room, "Well, who the fuck is you?"

"Nigga, I'm Ohaji and I don't know who the fuck you think you is bustin' up in here and shit but this my shit, get the fuck out."

I sat the boxes down on the nearby counter, chuckling to myself. I watched the goofy nigga for a little bit. He was bigger than me, I could tell by the weight on his arm as he continued cooking on the cooktop. He was sporting a black wife beater and a durag. He saw that I was just watching him and cut the cooktop off.

"I know you heard what I said,"

"Nigga, I don't know who the fuck you talkin' to but I live in this bitch na, so if you got a problem take that up with housin'." I walked around the suite, trying to check for the room I was supposed to be moving in. This was my first day on campus, my first day in the United States at that. I was tired  from the long plane ride and all I wanted to do was get situated in my room and knock the fuck out. But it seems like I might have to beat a bitch before I do that. 

Once I found the empty room, I transferred my boxes into that room and I began rearranging shit. I was new to the college life. I couldn't afford a plane ticket to get down here in time for freshmen orientation, so I didn't know my way around, nor did I know where my classes were. 

However, my parents spent everything they could to get me on the first flight so that I could live out my dreams. So in the meantime, I'd just worry about that shit later.

"Yo nigga, I don't know what the fuck you got goin on, but hurry up and get this shit out the vanity." That same goofy ass nigga spat, leaning against the door frame as I moved the little shit I did bring around the room.

I turned to him, "I'm bout to smack the fuck out yo ass, like real shit. Back the fuck up."

I could tell he was trying to call my bluff and get me riled up. 

"Nigga chill-"

Before he could even finish, I pulled out my gun and planted it right in between his eyes. This was the first thing I bought when I landed in the States. I'd be damn if a nigga catch me lacking. I glared at him with a look of satisfaction, I didn't want to use it but I would. I never took my eyes off him as he smiled, staring back at me as well.

"Look, if you gon be on my ass this entire semester I could end this shit na, don't temp me bruh." I snapped, "I'm in this bitch na, and all I wanna do is focus on graduatin' so I can leave this bitch. You let me do that and I just might let yo ass live." 

The buff man chuckled and raised his hands, "You don't scare me nigga, but it's nice to know ya skinny ass got a back bone. You can put the gun away."

After a stare down for a few minutes, I finally lowered the gun and put it back in my waist band. I could sense that he wasn't a threat but I wasn't up for the games. He was testing me on purpose. 

Once I finished unpacking my boxes, the room was still just as empty as it was before I came. I didn't have a checklist so I didn't know what I needed to buy before hand. All I had was some sheets that could barely fit the bed, some notebooks, headphones, and a small fan. One of the boxes had school supplies like pens, paper, pencils and my text books. The other box was filled with the little bit of clothes I had along with a few pair of shoes. I sat on the bed and sighed at the space.