First Semester Read Free Page A

heard about that album release party The Game is supposed to be throwing this weekend?” she said, after I read yet another one of Todd’s acceptance letters aloud.
    â€œYeah,” Todd said, changing the subject. “It’s supposed to be crackin’.”
    â€œSpeaking of parties,” I said. “Ever since that party the other week, I’ve been having this crazy dream.”
    â€œWhat kind of dream, blood?” he asked.
    â€œIt’s kind of hard to explain. But it always starts out with me walking down this long hallway. Some dude is walking in front of me.”
    â€œWho?” he asked.
    â€œI don’t know. I can never make out his face. Anyway, I finally get to this room that I’m about to go into, and smoke is coming from under the door. For some reason, I go in anyway. Then this girl opens the door—”
    â€œWhat girl?” Keisha asked, arching her eyebrows and folding her arms.
    â€œI don’t know. I can never make her face out.”
    â€œI’m gonna need to know these things, J.D.,” she said with an attitude.
    â€œAnyway, that ain’t even important. Like I was saying, as soon as the door swings open, I hear a gunshot.”
    â€œThen what?” Todd asked, as if he were waiting for the punch line.
    â€œNothing. Then the dream is over.”
    â€œYou been sleeping with a night-light?” he asked jokingly.
    â€œC’mon, blood, I’m serious.”
    â€œYou need to quit watching all them Freddie Kruger reruns on the USA channel.”
    â€œYou’re probably just reliving what happened at that party, boo,” Keisha said.
    â€œNah, Keesh, I’m telling you, this dream is different.”
    â€œDidn’t the doctor say you were going to go through posttraumatic stress?” she asked.
    â€œI don’t know. All I know is that I keep having this damn dream. I need to do something to take my mind off of it. Let me open up my couple little letters and see what I’m working with,” I said, turning toward Keisha. “Pass me those envelopes over there on that chair please, boo.”
    â€œWhat’s all this crap?” she asked.
    â€œThey call that mail, baby.”
    â€œDuh,” she said, rolling her eyes. “Why you always gotta be so damn sarcastic all the time? I was talking about these Jehovah’s Witnesses leaflets and this restaurant coupon book.”
    â€œI don’t know. I didn’t sift through everything. I was in a rush. I just grabbed what was in the mailbox and bounced. Here’s something with my name on it, though,” I said, opening a white envelope.
    It was from my aunt Sonya. A couple of weeks ago, my mom told me that the company her fiancé works for had its stock go public or something like that, and they went from broke to multihundred thousandaires overnight. When I saw her name on the envelope, my eyes lit up. They immediately drooped back to size when I focused on the other letter addressed to me. It was from University of Atlanta—my last hope. I figured I might as well take the good news first, so I tore into the letter from my aunt Sonya. I stood the card right side up and gave it a shake to loosen the dough. Nothing fell out. I re-checked the front of the envelope to make sure I had the right aunt. Yep, it was her all right, but no dough. The card said something about “all of her blessings” and “best wishes.” Ironically, a brotha sure did wish she could’ve blessed me with some of that bread.
    â€œDamn, that’s cold,” Keisha said. “She could’ve sent a brotha a little sumptin’ sumptin’.”
    â€œFor real, blood,” Todd added, with a snicker. “That’s no bueno.”
    â€œYou’ve still got one more letter here with your name on it,” Keisha said, reaching for it. “And hey, look, it’s from University of Atlanta. Why are they sending you