Color Blind

Chapter 17

"It's just like you to go to a black college to major in black folks," Scott joked as he casually leafed through my poli-sci book and then put it back on the shelf.

"What? Get off it Scott. I am not majoring in black folks," I exclaimed, shaking my head in exasperation. It was the third time that he had commented on it that day, having gone through every last one of my textbooks and found a particularly strong interest in the political science ones. "And besides, you went off to a white school to major in white folks!"

"What?" he exclaimed, peering over my copy of The Autobiography of Malcolm X. "You've obviously never been to Louisiana State, have you?" He set his sights back on the book and asked casually, "What was your major again?"

I sighed loudly. "African American studies."

"Black folks," Scott sang quietly and turned another page.

"Shut up! That's exactly why white people get on my last damn nerve!" He was really starting to piss me off now.

Scott, I guess knowing that he was about to take the joke too far, closed the book and looked at me. "Hey, I was just playin' with you."

"Anyway...I would expect as much from a white boy who went to a white school to major in being powerful and white."

"Aw! Da-yumn! Why it gotta be all like that? My major is Political Science."

"Exactly. White folks."

"How you figure?"

"Politics? Come on Scott! Who runs that?" I waited with a dramatic pause, and then answered my own question. "The Man."

"Are you saying that I'm...tha man?" Scott asked lowly with a devilish grin. I threw a pillow at him.

"You get on my last nerve!" I cried, then squealed with laughter as he jumped over the couch on top of me and started tickling my sides. "Stop it! Stop!"

He sat back and grinned with satisfaction. "I'm starvin'. Let's go to the student center and eat."

I picked up a magazine and began casually leafing through it. "Nope."

A slow smile spread across Scott's face and he pulled me back towards him, smothering my cheek with kisses. "Aw poor baby! Are you jealous?"

"What?" I elbowed him away and got up.

"You are!" he laughed. "I knew it! The last time we went up thea', and all the chicks wa' sweatin' me, I could tell you wa' gettin' maaaad heated!" As time went on, the south eventually took complete control over Scott's mouth. However, when he was really tickled about something, his old friend Boston would come back full force, making him sound like the spitting image of his mother.

"No I wasn't. You are such a jackass!"

But in reality, I was jealous. The last time we went to the student center, all of the girls had been watching us out of the corner of their eyes. At first, I thought it was just because he was white, but I should have known better. Scott was the type of guy that would appeal to any girl...no matter what she was used to. That day, no sooner had I gotten up from the table to go wash my hands, Scott told me that three of the girls asked if he was with me, two slipped him their numbers when he gave an ambiguous answer, and one was even sitting at the table "holding my seat" when I got back.

Unable to control my anger, I went off on that girl and personally gave the other two skanks their phone numbers back. When I was finished, Scott left a tip for the busboy on the table and led me gently by the shoulders out the door. On the way out, he gave a southern gentleman nod to the girls and said, "Ladies." Then grinning, he continued, "I tried ta tell y'all..."