Page 26 of Palm South University: Season 3
I HAVE NO IDEAwhat I’m doing.
Not just in the current moment as I pack my books for a day full of classes, but in life, in general. Up until right now, the only thing I’ve ever known to be certain is that I love to play poker. Period. The end. But that’s about all I have.
Sure, I like to flirt with boys and party with my sisters, but unfortunately, there’s neither a career path for those kinds of hobbies nor is there anything such as a Professional Paddleboarder or Dynamite Donut Eater that I’m aware of. So, over the summer, I asked myself if poker was really what I wanted to do for the rest of my life, because it was the only sure thing I had that could potentially be a career.
It wasn’t an easy question to answer.
I love poker, that much is easy for anyone to see. But can I imagine a life of always traveling, always hustling, always wondering if I’d make the next tournament or be able to perform in it? Can I see myself getting married or raising a family and somehow battling poker tabloids at the same time?
I don’t have those answers, and I didn’t find them over the summer. So, I filled my schedule with classes in all fields of study, hoping to find something that will stick. My first two years at Palm South University were a breeze, mostly filled with general education courses that were similar to high school in content, just more intense. But this semester, I’ll be diving into five different subject areas to see if anything sticks.
God, help me.
“You’re a mess,” Ashlei says with a laugh as she watches me pack my books for the day.
I have my Nonprofit Organizations class today, inspired by Jarrett’s most recent job acquisition, followed by Judicial Process and Politics, just in case I want to go pre-law, and finally, Stagecraft I. My mother was into theatre when she was in high school, so I figured maybe it’s in my blood. And this is just for my Monday and Wednesday classes. On Tuesdays and Thursdays, I have Principles of Advertising and Introduction to Elementary Education.
Something is bound to stick.
“It’s like being at a delicious buffet,” I say defensively, zipping up my blue and green Vera Bradley bag when all my books are in place. “I have to load up my plate and try a little of everything before I can decide what I actually want to eat a substantial amount of. In the end, I’ll be stuffed and happy.”
“Or you’ll vomit.”
I glare at her as she hops down from Jess’s bed, linking arms with me with a laugh.
“I’m just giving you a hard time. I’m glad you’re exploring options, Sky. It’ll be fun.”
“Not as fun as your bad-ass internship,” I counter as we make our way downstairs.
It’s a bustling Monday morning in the sorority house, girls flying every which way, hair half-done and protein bars in hand. Some are heading out to the gym, some coming back, the rest of us somewhere between classes, internships, jobs, or on-campus activities. Erin was out the door by six AM, which surprises absolutely no one.
“It really has been such a blast, but the real work is starting now. I thought I was busy before,” Ashlei says with a sigh. “I had no idea. I want to knock the socks off of this client when we meet with them in a few weeks to pitch the event launch concepts.”
“You’ll do amazing,” I assure her, squeezing her arm before breaking our link as she heads toward the door and I toward the kitchen. “Still on for a girly movie night?”
“Definitely. I’ll smuggle in some wine.”
“My girl.”
Ashlei throws me a wink and then she’s out the door, and I make my way to the kitchen, snagging a banana and to-go cup of coffee for my walk to the Business building.
Even in the sticky September morning air, it feels good to be back on the PSU campus. The classes are challenging, the boys are hotter than Hades, and the parties are just as wild as ever. It’s home, but there is one thing missing.
Clinton’s smile.
I haven’t seen it, therealClinton smile, ever since Omega Chi was put on a one-year suspension. I can’t blame him for feeling down, and even though he’s been trying his best to put on a happy face at the Alpha Sigma parties and social events, I know inside he’s miserable. Between his little brother living with a friend in Pittsburgh and everything going on with his fraternity, it’s a wonder he can even force a fake smile.
But that’s what he’s wearing nowadays, and today is no different as I round the corner of the Student Union and meet him in our usual place. We walk to the Business building together every Monday and Wednesday, me for my first class of the day and him for his second, hence meeting outside of the Union instead of on Greek Row.
Clinton is leaned up against the dark brick at the side of the building, his gaze distant as I make my way toward him. He still looks as fresh as ever, red and black Air Jordans matching the Nike design on his casual t-shirt and Omega Chi hat turned a little to the side. He’s grown a little scruff on his chin since the beginning of the semester, and I run a knuckle over it when I reach him.
“So manly with your little beard,” I tease.
He shakes his head, ridding himself of whatever thoughts he was focused on before I got there and smiles down at me, though it’s still not the real smile I know and love. “The ladies like a little friction, if you know what I mean.”
“Gross,” I say with a laugh, nudging him. “But also true.”
This time he laughs, throwing his arm over my shoulders as we make our way across campus.
There are few people in the world I love as much as Clinton, which is why it breaks my heart that no matter what we talk about, and no matter what hesaysabout how he’s feeling, I can read the truth in his eyes. He’s sad, he’s broken, and when I get that way, I know the only thing that makes me feel better is going home for a while.
So, when he drops me off at my classroom, I pull out my phone before class starts and book two flights to Pittsburgh for next weekend, screenshotting the confirmation and texting it to Clinton.
- Pack your bags. It’s time for a bestie trip.