She's dressed in a knee-length autumn-colored skirt, a creme-colored blouse, and a black blazer with a broach clipped to the right end of her chest. Her silver, pressed hair is tied back in a low bun, which showcases her wrinkled face.
"It isn't what it looks like." David staggers to his chair. When he turns to face her, she folds her arms, and Judith remains motionless. "Believe me. I would never hurt her. We were rehearsing for the upcoming play: Abraham and Florence."
"Young lady, is that true?" Judy is jolted out of her trance by her question, and she slowly lifts herself off the grass.
"No, ma'am," she mumbles with her head hung. He glares at her, both shocked and afraid. "He – was going to kill me."
"Judy," he calls for her with a crack in his voice. "You realize how outrageous you're being, right? Keep our parents in mind while you tell the truth to this woman."
"This woman's name is Ethel Roberts, and she's heard enough." Judith's eyes well up as David looks at her with his lips agape. "The two of you step into my office."
She presses her left hand against the door, and when it opens, he looks at his ex, hoping she'll change her mind and lie for him, but when she doesn't, he sighs defeatedly. David rolls into the doorway with hesitancy.
"There's a male in the building, so cover up, ladies," she yells through the arch, and he recoils. Ethel extends her right hand to Judy and gently says, "Come in."
She approaches the woman, lifts her bag off the ground, and walks through the door. She stands beside him, and they follow Ethel through the arch of the empty living room, past the yellow and blue striped sofa.
Her kitten heels click throughout the moment, and it's the only sound on the first floor—the trio stop in front of a mahogany door with Housemother written in bold. David and Judith watch her rummage through the inside pockets of her blazer for her key.
He shakes his head in disbelief as he looks at his ex from the sidelines. After inserting a silver key into the knob and hearing a faint click, Ethel pushes the door open.
Judith walks behind David as Ethel walks around her dark wood desk, tucking the key into her pocket.
"Shut the door, honey." She groans as she settles into her rolling chair, taking a deep breath when she notices mounds of papers and manila folders beside a peach pink rotary phone.
Judith closes it gently and stands with her back to it. Ethel motions toward the chairs and Judy settles into the one on the right, her bag on her lap.
"Can I just say that," he begins to speak, but he stops when the housemother gives him a stern look. She turns her head to Judith.
"Please, tell me what happened." Judith licks her lips and focuses her attention on her hands. Behind Ethel, four portraits of white women hang, and hers is the fifth; the first black housemother.
"Yesterday, he and I had an argument, and he broke up with me. Um, coming back on campus wasn't as easy as I hoped because since being here, I've been bullied not only by him – but by someone that I considered to be my friend." Her tears stream down her cheeks and onto her hands. "He attacked me because I called him – crazy. I only said it because he's constantly trying to control me."
"You were cheating on me," he yells at her, and Ethel shushes him, but it doesn't help. "You called me fucked up, but whose fault is that?"
"It isn't mine." She titters dryly. "You were messed up when I met you, and you'll be messed up until the day we throw dirt over your casket. Instead of blaming me, talk to your Dad when he's not working, or maybe your Mom. Get counseling if they won't help."
"I'm not talking to no shrink," he mumbles, then returns his attention to Ethel.
"Well, stay the way that you are then, but keep me out of it." She also turns away from him, but his dark eyes reflect on her.
"I knew you didn't care about me. This whole time you were playing me as if you wanted to help me, but the truth is that you're selfish." Judith looks at him, and Ethel sighs defeatedly. She takes the handset of the rotary phone and brings it to her left ear while they bicker.
"What do you mean I don't care? While everyone was telling me to leave you, I stuck by you, and every day it was something with you!" He rolls his eyes and folds his arms. The Housemother mashes three digits.
"Mary was right." Her mouth hangs open, and her brows draw in. He shakes his head in disbelief. "You only think about your own emotions and to hell with everyone else's."
Is that true?
She moves forward slowly, staring idly at Ethel. She recalls her mother's dismissive attitude whenever she needs her, as well as the distance between herself and her father.
"Delores, put me on the phone with Dean O'Connell," she tells his secretary, and David shakes his head. "There's a situation here in Zeta Kappa Delta, and I'll need one of the campus officers to swing by."
"My life is officially ruined." Judith wipes her nose and straightens her back, ignoring him. Ethel looks at her as she lowers the phone onto the hook switch.
"You may head to your lecture or wherever you need to be." Judith gets up from her seat, and they turn to look at David, who is staring at his bandaged legs. "And you sit tight with me."
Ethel observes her as she tosses her bookbag over her shoulders and walks out of her office with light steps. She feels strange, but not in a bad way, and when she steps onto the porch, she realizes what emotion she is experiencing. It's tranquillity.
"Mary," she grumbles under her breath when she descends the few steps. When she recalls her ex-best friend's role in her dismay, the victory of having him punished isn't enough to keep her happy.
The autumn breeze isn't able to stop the sweat dripping from Judith's brows, moistening her head wrap as she races down the cobblestone path.
Her heart is pounding, and her legs are tired from the strenuousness of her day, but she keeps running until she reaches the club building; like a horse with a carrot dangling in its face.
She's the only person in the hall when she walks in, but she continues past each door, her legs shaking and ready to give out under her.
Judith climbs the stairs down the hall, gripping the railing tightly and almost leaning against it for support. Every breath she takes is like inhaling fire into her lungs, her eyes filled with fury.
She reaches the second floor, where most of the walls are translucent glass. Chemistry majors are to her left, and aspiring politicians are to her right.
She walks past the future journalists and librarians until she reaches Mary's lecture on the left, childhood education.
Judith leans against the wall behind her as best as possible, and she desperately attempts to regulate her breathing. She slides onto the floor, propping her forearms atop her knees, as she overlooks Professor Ericson's class.
He's dressed in black pants and a dark blue button-up, swinging back and forth on the balls of his feet as he discusses the assignment on the board with his student.
They hurriedly stuff their belongings into their bags, and he returns to his desk, which is directly in front of the chalkboard. Judith watches them leave one by one until Derek Oliver is the only student left. Mary is nowhere in sight.
"Dylan," she calls for him when he enters the hall, and she staggers to her feet. He ruffles the skin between his brows at her.
"It's Derek," he corrects her, and she nods in remembrance, then steps toward him. "Do I know you?"
"You should since I was at your rager with Mary." As he scans the halls of scattered students, his face darkens with paranoia. "I think we should talk."
When they're alone, he slams his hands onto her shoulders and leans into her face.
"You bitches better stay away from me, or I'll report you all for harassment – including that lying sleaze, Mary." She furrows her brows at him, her arms dangling at her sides.
The weight he holds in his muscular arms seems to work alongside her tired legs, attempting to send her to the floor.
"What're you talking about?" His face softens when he hears the confusion in her voice.
"You're here to accuse me of drugging Mary during the party – right," he asks, and she shakes her head with her lips agape. "Oh."
He stands up straight, and she looks up at him. Derek runs the fingers of his right hand through the front of his slicked-back pompadour.
"What'd you want to talk about?" She shakes her head once more, then takes a step away from him. He watches her turn her back to him, and he notices crimson fluid dripping onto the top of her bag from her head bandage.
"You're bleeding, by the way," he yells, but she doesn't respond. Judith rushes to the first floor, and her trembling left-hand meets the back of her head, then returns to her line of sight. A blotch of red is coating her fingertips.
She rushes to the ladies' room, then stands before the mirror.
"Yeah, and he's such a spaz," someone says from the stalls. Judith turns the knobs until a stream of clear water pours into the drain, and she vigorously scrubs her blood off her fingers. "I heard he got transferred here from a different school, and if he messes up again, he's going to jail."
"Rebecca, that doesn't make sense," another person tells her. With the tap running, Judith dunks her right hand into the pocket of her overalls, and when she feels the card given to her on the bus, she searches her left pocket. "I mean, this isn't some boarding school; it's a college and a little more prestigious than wherever he supposedly came from."
"Whatever." Rebecca sighs, flushes her toilet, then steps out of the first stall. "I'm only telling you what I heard, and my messenger is never wrong."
She and Judith glance at each other's reflections, then she watches her sit her roll of dressing on the top of the sink.
"Yeah, well, this time they're far off because it doesn't make sense." She flushes her toilet as well, and her door squeaks when she thrusts it open. She stands alongside her friend, and they watch Judy.
She fumbles with the bobby pins holding her soiled one in place, and Rebecca scrunches her mouth from revulsion when she unravels it. The back of her hair is flat and coated with small amounts of dried blood.
"Jesus, let's go, Ashley," she says with a disgusted groan. Judith watches them leave, their blue eyes on her, then she looks at her reflection.
When she feels her eyes heat up, she sniffles, changes her bandage, and washes away the fresh blood on her hands.
She slides her backpack onto the sink, unzips it, and retracts the flap. Her eyes widen, and her breathing quickens when she doesn't see her journal with her poems among the many textbooks, notebooks, and folders for loose paper.
***
When Judith walks into the student lounge, she notices Mary sitting on the sofa, knees to her chest, flipping through a fashion magazine. Mary looks up at her without lifting her head after she approaches.
"You here to kick my ass for David," she asks sarcastically, and she's answered with a head shake. "Then why're you blocking my light?"
"I need to talk to you – about Derek." Mary gnashes her teeth at the sound of his name, then returns her eyes to the pages in front of her.
"What about him?" Her question leaves her mouth in a whisper-like tone, and Judith sits to her right.
"What happened between you two," she asks her. "He was ready to tear me a new one because he thought that I was there to advocate for you."