“asked Andre over his shoulder, straightening the piles of folded T-shirts in his dresser drawer. “You get laid or something?”“Waylaid.” Macon rubbed his eyes. He’d taken his final bow at four in the morning, accepted a bouquet of black lillies from the People’s Cooperative Guerrilla Theatre, and stumbled home to nightmares.“How was the Nuyorican?”“Pretty wack. How was freshman orientation this morning?”“Very educational.”“How so?”“I learned there are a lot of stupid motherfuckers here.”“Anythin...g else?”“Let’s see . . .” He tapped two fingers to his upper lip, then raised them in recollection. “Apparently, somebody in Housing decided to play a joke and make the fifth floor of John Jay the All Dave Floor. Most of the Daves are pretty pissed. What else . . .”Macon looked down at the bedsheets twisted around his frame. He was a violent sleeper. “When do classes start, anyway?”“Today, fool. They assigned us academic advisers; you’re supposed to meet with them before you register.”Macon threw off the covers, swung his legs onto the floor, and rifled through the untouched information packet on his desk.MoreLessRead More Read Less
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