Page 2 of Blake University: HBCU Chronicles – Yon & Imole
Yontell Dawson III better known as just Yon, was a junior at Blake University, majoring in Communications.
A solid major for someone who knew how to navigate a room, work a mic, and flip a press conference when needed.
Nobody could say that he loved school, but he knew the game.
Degrees opened doors, but relationships kept them open.
It was homecoming weekend, and the energy on campus was electrifying.
Alumni from across the country were back to celebrate Blake University and take in the nostalgia of college life.
The football game was set.
Blake University would be going up against their rival team, Southern University.
Southern had a history of whoopin’ asses and taking names later when it came to football.
That was until Yontell Dawson III came on board.
was a third-generation Blake University student.
Legacy.
The Dawson family were major benefactors of the University.
Yon’s father, Yontell Dawson II, owned a tech company, and the family came from old Black money.
Yon was the star running back for the BU Bears.
And for the past three years, the BU football team had been on fire thanks to Yon’s crazy footwork, athleticism, and speed.
But this weekend wasn’t just about the game.
It was about everything.
The campus was already lit with early tailgates, parties, and pop-ups.
There were going to be cameras everywhere: news outlets, student media, even a couple of sports networks covering the game.
NFL scouts, too.
Eyes were going to be on him from every angle, and Yon had no plans of slipping.
He had to be sharp, fast, and locked in on the field and off it.
His parents were flying in from Atlanta.
His pops didn’t miss a game, but when moms came too, that meant the pressure was doubled.
Mrs.
Dawson didn’t play about her son’s image, grades, interviews, how he shook hands, or what he wore.
Everything had to be on point.
And the shorties? Man, the shorties were gonna be plenty.
Homecoming always brought out the finest.
From visiting alumni to girls from other campuses trying to catch a baller.
Yon knew what it was.
That’s why his outfits were already picked out, he wore custom fits for every event.
From the day party to the late-night stroll with his frat brothers, the Men of Mega, Yon was stepping clean.
This weekend was about flash, drinks, and being the face of the campus like he’d been since freshman year.
There was a lot riding on this weekend.
The legacy.
The win.
The image.
Yon wasn’t just playing for a trophy, he was playing for his future.
And he was ready for all of it.
Yon was Blake University through and through.
Third generation BU.
But what really ran through his blood was Mega Phi Psi.
Fourth generation.
His great-grandfather was one of the charter members.
His grandfather was a legend in the organization. His pops? Still shows up to alumni parties in full colors, talking about the “good ol’ days”
with a cup of brown in one hand and his phone full of throwback photos in the other.
The frat was legacy.
Brotherhood.
Loyalty.
History.
But also? Foolishness and fuckery.
No, not officially.
But whenever Yon and his line brothers got together; Porkchop, Gravy, and Ace, it was guaranteed somebody was gonna get kicked out a party, lose a shoe, or wake up with a hangover and a Snapchat mystery.
They weren’t just a group, they were a movement.
Loud, reckless, fine as hell, and always dressed to kill.
Yon was known on campus for three things: football, being a Mega, and the women.
And if you asked him, that last one came with the most drama.
Case in point? Shawna James.
She was fine.
Smart.
Made her own money.
Homecoming queen her sophomore year.
She had the resume and the look.
Their relationship had been one of those perfect-on-paper situations, the kind of thing that made mothers light candles and start planning future grandbabies. His own mama and grandmama practically had Shawna’s name embroidered on Christmas stockings already.
But the chemistry? Gone.
Dead.
Buried.
Shawna didn’t get the memo, though. She still called like they were together. Still pulled up at his apartment uninvited. Still tried to slide into his mama’s brunches and family events like she had a guaranteed seat at the table.
Worse? Her daddy and Yon’s daddy were talking business. So, now he was supposed to pretend like he didn’t see the “you better fix it”
looks his father gave him every time Shawna was in the room. Like marriage was the next step just because it made sense for the families.
Nah. Yon wasn’t drinking that Kool-Aid.
His DMs looked like a casting call. He had options.
And tonight? He was steppin’ out with his brothers.
He stood in the mirror, brushing down his waves one last time before slipping into his fit. Crisp white tee under a gold-and-navy flannel. Distressed denim, light enough to flex but clean enough to look intentional. And the shoes? Brand new Forces. Fresh out the box.
He grabbed his gold chain, the one with the custom Mega pendant his grandfather passed down, kissed it out of habit, and let it fall against his chest.
Knock knock knock.
“Yo, hurry up! We tryna hit the yard before these chicks get snatched up!”
Porkchop’s voice boomed through the door.
Yon opened the door to the chaos that was his line brothers.
Porkchop aka Preston was loud, stocky, country as hell from Macon, GA. Always had food in his hand and jokes on his tongue. Gavon or Gravy was the smooth talker, caramel-skinned fashion god from the DMV. And Ace, well he the quiet assassin from Houston, lowkey with a temper but loyal like a pit.
“Damn, Yon,”
Gravy said, dapping him up.
“You tryna make the freshman cry tonight with that outfit?”
“Nah,”
Yon smirked.
“Just trying to remind these women who the king of the yard is.”
They all cracked up.
“You already know what time it is,”
Ace added, pulling out his flask and tucking it into his inside jacket pocket.
“Mega business only.”
As they walked down the steps of the Mega Phi Psi House, the air was thick with music, cologne, and anticipation. The yard was calling, and the weekend had officially begun.
And Yon? He was exactly where he belonged.