I called a school nurse to look at him. I was worried. I had fallen on my face. Dave was lying on his back, which meant he had been dropped on the back of his head. The nurse asked, “What happened to you guys?”

“I…I…,” I started. “We fainted,” I concluded, lying. The nurse looked at us suspiciously, but said he’d be right back. He left us for five minutes, and then came back. He had smelling salts and put them under Dave’s nose. Dave came to.

“Where am I?” Dave asked, sounding groggy. He blinked, looking confused. His breathing was still labored.

“You’re on the dining hall floor,” the nurse answered. “Can you tell me what happened?” He looked at me suspiciously again.

“We fainted,” Dave said.

Amazing! He couldn’t have known what I had said just a moment before.

The nurse gave Dave an oxygen mask, and in a few minutes, he was breathing normally. The nurse took off the mask and he checked both of our “okayness”. We responded fine to his questions.

“What time is it?” I asked.

“It’s 10:15.” He said.

“10:15?” I exclaimed. “We need to get back to the dorm!”

The nurse said, “It’s dangerous walking back to the dorm at this time of night. I’ll walk you back.”

Dave and I agreed, and we all left the dining hall. The nurse escorted us back to the dorm, and I took out my key and opened the door.

“Thanks, Nurse,” Dave and I both said.

“You’re welcome,” he said. Dave and I went in, and Dave closed the door.

“I can’t believe what happened,” Dave said.

“I know, it’s like a bad dream,” I concurred. I looked at him in awe. “You didn’t even give up when you had the choice too.”

“I wasn’t going to call you a Nig. I gave you my word that I wouldn’t call you that,” he said, looking sheepish.

“What about the Ni…Ni…”? I asked him, wondering.

“I wasn’t going to call you a Nig. I was hoping they would be satisfied with just the first syllable, but they weren’t.” He smiled ruefully.

I remembered something. What about the “club” and the other thing? “What’s this about a “club” and sweating? And what are “fixes?” I asked him.

Dave suddenly looked unwilling to talk. He gave me a “closed” look. I knew he really didn’t want to talk about what they were.

“Darryl, don’t you want to go to sleep?” He asked me in a kind of begging tone.

“No, not yet,” I answered him. “What were those guys talking about?” I asked him again.

“Nothing. They were talking about nothing.” Dave gave me a nervous look. I knew he was hiding something.

“Come on, you can tell me. We’re friends,” I coaxed him.

“You promise not to tell anyone?” Dave looked at me imploringly, like he wanted to know he could trust me.

“Yes,” I promise,” I promised.

Dave took a deep breath. The “Club” is an exclusive fraternity. Phi Beta Alpha. It’s really great. Once you get into it, you become a BMOC.”

“What’s a BMOC?” I asked.

“Big Man On Campus,” Dave answered. “I’ve always wanted to join PBA. I’ve always wanted to become a “brother”,” Dave continued.

“Hey, I’m a “brother”, I said, jokingly. The joke was that all Black guys are considered “brothers”.

Dave tried to smile, but I could tell he was more interested in telling me about PBA than in the joke. He continued. “If I get into PBA, do you know how good that will look on my college applications?” He smiled a real smile this time. “Some colleges like fraternities. If I get into PBA, I will get more respect.

The Student Body would respect me a lot. I would go to a lot of parties, instead of staying home alone on Fridays and Saturdays.” He looked at his nails. I could tell he was sad about spending Fridays and Saturdays alone. But hey!

“You have me. I’ll be home on Fridays and Saturdays,” I told him.

“True, Dave agreed, “but you just got here. Before you came, this dorm was a single,” he said.

“Oh,” I said, understanding.

“And even with you being here, staying home on these days is still considered spending it alone.

“Dave, you could visit other dorms on those nights,” I suggested.

“Yeah, that’s not much fun when most people are asleep at night,” Dave lamented.

“Oh,” I said again.

“PBA is the best fraternity on Johnson. There are others, but nothing touches this one. But, I do have something to confess.” His face had been bright when he talked about how great PBA was, but it became dark when he went to the “confess” part.

“What?” I replied.

“The Wonder Boys are both head of the PBA. The wonderful guys who beat us up earlier,” he answered, looking upset.

“I had no idea,” I said softly. “And you still want to join the PBA?” I asked him, perplexed.

“Yeah. I know, it’s pathetic,” Dave answered. “That’s why they told me if I didn’t drop you as a friend; I wouldn’t get into the club. They know how much I want to be in the PBA. They know how great I think it is,” Dave continued.

“People like that run the PBA?” I answered, astonished.

“Yeah. The way they rush people is horrendous. The pledges have to steal test answers for them and do their homework for them. The pledges have to walk around campus in their underwear for a full school day, and sometimes they have to steal professors’ belongings to get into the club.

“So, you would have to do that too?” I asked him.

“Actually, I’m pre-pledge. They are only THINKING of rushing me for PBA. So, right now, I’m in a good place,” he answered, smiling.

“What about the “sweaty” part?” I asked him.

Dave looked at me nervously again.

“Come on, tell me. You can tell me,” I coaxed him again.

“I used to be a drug addict,” he said softly, looking reluctant. “I was on cocaine. I tried it once at a regular party, not a Frat party, after someone offered me a little. “I thought, ‘What the hell? It’s only a little cocaine. It’ll be harmless." I took it, and was instantly hooked.

I LIKED the cocaine and loved the high I got off from it. It was such a rush! I soon was snorting cocaine 20 times a day. I was skipping classes to snort cocaine. I couldn’t stop, and I LIKED not being able to stop. I was using money my folks gave me to buy cocaine.

I had a drug dealer that would come to this school, and we would make the exchange. When my money ran out, I soon began stealing money from other students to buy cocaine. I was always shaking and sweating when I couldn’t have my fix.

After the fix, I would start convulsing, because Darryl, cocaine makes you convulse. But I did stop sweating. When Dean Riley found a trace of cocaine on my book bag, he demanded I seek rehab. I said, “I don’t have a problem! I’m not a cocaine addict! I’ve never even taken cocaine in my life! That’s not my cocaine!”

‘He let me go for a few days, but soon found me snorting cocaine He watched me as I finished with my “fix” and confronted me.

“Dean Riley,” I had said in surprise. I knew I was busted, but I wasn’t going down without a little lying. “It’s not what you think. It’s not cocaine, it’s baby powder,” I had lied. I soon began to convulse.

Dean Riley searched my book bag and my dorm and found five more bags of cocaine.

“So, all of this is Baby Powder, huh?’ He said wryly, obviously not believing me.

I had looked at the floor. “So, am I going to jail?’ I had asked him.

“No, we’re going to take you to Rehab,” Dean Riley told me.

“No! I need the cocaine!” I yelled. I lunged for the cocaine but missed and ended up on the floor. “Dean Riley, I can’t live without the cocaine!” I said. “I need it! I need it!” I yelled again, and got up. “I want it!” I yelled. I looked like a madman. My eyes were wild and I was doing this wild, wild, dance. “Give it to me!” I yelled again. I began to burst into tears because of my addiction.

Dean Riley gently wiped my tears and threw away the bags of cocaine into Johnson's garbage chute. I actually tried to go into the garbage chute to get my “fixes”, back, but Dean Riley gently stopped me.

“You have a problem, son,” he told me gently. “You need help.” He threw put me in Rehab, and I was there for two weeks. The withdrawal symptoms were murder. I couldn’t get my fixes, I was sweating and shaking, and my brain had gotten so used to the cocaine that it wanted more. My body started to go through pain, because I was going through drug withdrawal.

I was sweating my bed sheets so much that it looked like I had wet the bed. A counselor talked to me about how much better my life would be without the cocaine. When I had been detoxed, I felt good and made a vow that I would not use cocaine anymore. A full year later, I am still cocaine free. “He gave me a big smile.

“That was only a year ago?” I asked him, shocked.

“Yeah. And my family doesn’t know. The Wonder Boys threatened to tell them about my addiction and Rehab if I continued to be your friend,” he answered.

“Wow,” I answered. “Thanks for sharing your story with me,” I told him.