The Succession of Us

Part 1

August 2006

Iffy's parents said college would be different from high school. Better. She'd be able to pick her own classes and people would be more mature and instructors would no longer cater to the lowest common denominator.

Her cousin Jay said that was all bullshit. It was exactly like high school, but bigger, and they didn't call your parents if you didn't show in class.

Also, like almost everyone was going to be white at her school, so she could expect casual, low-key racism. But that wasn't new. This was a pretty liberal part of town, so hopefully it wouldn't be as bad as her high school.

Jay had had the bigger part right, at least. The building and surrounding lawns and parking lots probably stretched at least a half mile, maybe more. And there Iffy stood, on the sidewalk at the bus stop right outside the parking lot, staring at her map and trying to make sense of it. She turned it this way and that until she had it at the right angle, looked up at the school, and went forward.

She needed to get to the Language Arts building -- at the opposite end of campus, of course -- and she only got turned around twice, ending up at the library both times.

"Well, at least I know where that is," she mumbled to herself.

Students milled around her, everywhere from their middle teens to middle age, and she only had to get bumped into once before she started moving again.

Her phone vibrated in her pocket, already on silent so she wouldn't forget when she got into class. She pulled it out and saw "Mom" on the caller ID. She braced herself and answered.

"Hey, Mom." She tucked her phone between her cheek and her shoulder so she could adjust the map again.

"Hi, Keisha. I just wanted to tell you good luck on your first day at college!"

"Thanks. But I actually can't really talk right now, I'm kind of lost and --"

She looked up. She was at the library again. How did this keep happening?

"Dammit," she muttered.

"What?"

"Nothing," Iffy said. "Just talking to myself."

"Well, you sound busy, so I'll let you go."

"Thanks."

She hung up.

Finally she ended up at the Math building, which was only two away from the Language Arts building, thank God. She turned the map again to make sure she was oriented correctly, and started to her right.

Where she smacked straight into somebody's chest.

She stumbled back a few steps, her brown eyes darting up as she brushed her long black hair out of her face. It was starting to frizz already, even though she'd only straightened it an hour ago. Fucking heat.

The person -- a very, very tall, at least half-Black man, with a shaved head, an armful of tattoos, and a face full of piercings, maybe her age, maybe a year or two older -- looked down at her and pulled a phone out of his pocket, tapping something out quickly before turning the screen in her direction.

Sorry.

Iffy looked up at him helplessly. Was he Deaf? She knew maybe a handful of signs, none of which could be useful in this situation. They stared at each other for a second before she stumbled out an "ASL" while shaking her head, hoping that would get her message across.

The man nodded and held up a finger. He typed something else into his phone.

No problem. I can hear. Just can't speak.