"I'm sorry for ditching you for David, and I'm sorry for the way I acted in general," Judith tells Jerome with her attention on her hands. Her interlocked fingers are fidgety, and he's unable to avoid watching them.

"I told you it's okay," he reminds her, and she shakes her head.

"I know, but still. Lately, I haven't been acting like myself, and I hope that you don't see me as some - basket case." He positions his right hand under her chin, then nudges upward, so their eyes meet.

Staring into his soul sends goosebumps flying up her arms. Her stomach flutters as if a swarm of butterflies is inside.

"I hardly know you, and hopefully soon, you'll realize that I'm not quick to judge." He lowers his arm, and she stares at the gas pumps. "You keep looking away. Why?"

"I'm just - a shy person." She places her right hand against the back of her neck, caressing the length of her spine under her afro. Mary steps out of the store and sighs heavily. Jerome and Judith look at her.

"We should get to class. Those three are giving me a hurricane headache." She walks past them.

"I'll see you later," Judith tells him.

"Sounds good. I'll be in the student lounge after my next lecture in fifteen minutes. Hopefully, I'll see you there." He watches her chase after Mary without giving him a reply, his thumbs sitting in the pockets of his sweatpants.

***

"Thank you to those who turned in their homework. I'll see you all on Wednesday." Professor Chandler says with his back turned to his departing students. He's scrubbing his chalkboard with an eraser brush in his right hand but his body at a distance to avoid chalk dust staining his black button-up.

"Professor," Judith calls for him once they're alone. Professor Chandler sets the eraser in its place, and she stands from her seat, her hands against the strap of her bookbag. They look at each other. "I wanted to apologize to you for Friday."

"I'm listening." He approaches his desk, and she descends the few steps. He takes his seat just when she arrives before him, and he clears his throat.

"I was - well, am - dealing with my emotions, and sometimes they spin so out of control that I say things that I don't mean or, in this case, become hostile to my superior." She bangs her left hand's outstretched fingers against the right, and he glances at her gesture, then into her eyes. "I'm pretty passionate about my studies, though, but it's no excuse. I'm sorry."

"Apology accepted." She exhales with relief, and he leans back in his chair. "I'm not one to mettle in my students' business, but can I ask you a question?"

"Uh, yeah. I mean, yes, sir." Her stomach anxiously twists. She folds her hands behind her back, straightening her posture.

"It was brought to my attention that you've been - getting into arguments with a boy here on campus. Miss. Jefferson," he pauses to lean forward and place his forearms against his desk. She confusedly narrows her eyes at him. "As your professor, I take pride in making sure that you and your classmates, and quite frankly the whole school, are safe."

"I don't understand," Judith mumbles. Professor Chandler sifts through the papers in front of him, and she watches him. "What's the question?"

"It's simple." He returns to her, his stern gaze driving phantom sweat down the back of her neck. "Why are you fighting with David Cambridge?"

"I wasn't fighting with him," she argues with a sudden shrill tone. He raises a brow, and she glances at the papers on his desk, clearing her throat. "He's my boyfriend. We don't fight."

"Then why did someone tell me that they saw you two fighting this morning? Were they lying," he interrogates her. "If that's the case, then tell me so I can forget about it. Otherwise, I'll have to fill out another incident report."

"Why can't you just ignore them," she speaks in a whisper. Professor Chandler tilts his head in disbelief.

"Because if a student is assaulted, as an authoritative figure, I have to take heed." He interlocks his fingers and takes a breath. Softly, he asks, "Do you remember a girl named Petra Wagner?"

"I think so," she says with uncertainty.

"Well, she was my student months ago, and she would come to class wearing shades often," Professor Chandler begins. "Usually, I didn't care. Some students wore pajamas, and although it breaks the dress code, I let them. I was having a bad day, and everything made me angry, so I snapped when I saw her wearing shades and a hoodie. When I ordered her to take them both off, she was hesitant at first, but once she did, I noticed that she had a black eye, and immediately, I felt remorseful."

"Did she say who did it," Judith asks, and he lifts his right arm, resting his hand against his temple.

"No, but others say that it was Derek Oliver." Her squinted eyes jolt from paper to paper as she ponders over the familiar name. "He plays football for the university. You'll probably see him at the game tomorrow night."

"I'm not into sports, so I won't be going," she tells him, and he nods his head. Mary approaches the door, and she stands on the tips of her shoes, watching them through the glass. "But what happened to her?"

"Petra - never went to any of her classes, and after an investigation, she was found dead in another state." Judith covers her mouth with her right hand, sorrow in her eyes. "I know. Since then, we've had meetings after meetings about the additional steps that we'll take in the event of a repeat. So, protocol requires me to report this to the Dean."

"Wait, no," she rushes those words from her mouth, her eyes wide and her arms at her sides. He stands to his feet with a manilla folder under his left arm. "Professor Chandler, you don't understand."

"You're right. I don't understand," Professor Chandler says, interrupting her. She takes a step back when her neck aches from looking up at him. "I don't understand why our students are treating this campus like a boxing ring. You fight, then make up and pretend it never happened, but the administration doesn't have that privilege. If we see a man striking a woman, he's expelled and escorted off-campus in a police car. It's the same vice versa."

"I understand that, and I'm sorry that you all have to constantly intervene, but David and I are planning to get married." He creases the skin above his nose bridge. "If his parents find out that he was expelled over something this silly, they'll change their minds and pair him with someone else."

"I'll respect the cultural differences and keep my opinions to myself. I already sent Dean O'Connell the report and what he chooses to do is no longer my business. I'm sorry, Miss. Jefferson." She silently stares at him for four seconds, then flounces towards the door to the right of his desk.

She steps through the arch, and Mary stands on the other end. She follows Judith out of the building, her expression displaying confusion.

"Do you want to talk about it," she asks, and Judith shakes her head. "Are you sure? You know how I feel about you being upset."

Judith stops walking, and Mary does the same. She turns to face her blonde-haired friend.

"He said that someone told him David and I were fighting earlier," she tells her. "Did you say something to him?"

"I was with you the whole time. How could I?" Judith heaves a heavy sigh, then gazes toward the main building. "Perhaps someone walking by said something. I mean, you two were in front of the club and academic building when it happened, so it could be anyone."

"Anyone," she repeats under her breath, scanning the variety of people walking around them. "I have to go to the Dean's office. Professor Chandler already told him, and I need to talk to him before he speaks to David."

Mary watches her stroll down the path, then she follows behind her.

"Should I go with you?" Judith shakes her head in response, and Mary stops walking. "Oh, well, okay. Uh, I'll be in the student lounge."

Judith steps into the main building, and a quick breeze hits her face. Well-dressed students clutter the large entrance, and her shoes rapidly tap the oak wood flooring as she races through the crowd.

She sees a flight of spiral stairs to the left and right of the receptionist desk and two slim women with chestnut complexions standing behind it. One has feathered hair reaching her shoulders, and the other has a short afro. Judith quickly approaches them, and they look at her.

"May we help you," the woman in front of her who's donning an afro asks.

"Hi, I need to speak to Dean O'Connell." She takes her eyes off of Judith, then glances at the other receptionist.

"Go up the stairs and look for a hall with a statue and pictures of our founding fathers. His office is straight down; you can't miss it," she tells her. They watch Judith veer her head toward the stairs to her right, then take cautious steps toward them as if she's expecting something or someone to jump out at her.

"Is everything okay," the other receptionist asks, and Judith glances at them. They're both watching her with confused expressions.

"Actually, is there an elevator," she asks, and they shake their heads no. "Certain stairs I'm unable to climb."

"Honey, you'll be fine." The feather-haired one fans her right hand at her dismissively.

She licks her lips, then returns her attention to the steps in front of her. Her stomach twists and rumbles and her heart begins to race.

David's face flashes before her, his pouty lips forming a smile that reveals his top row of off-white teeth. Before another image disturbs her, she turns on her heels and bolts toward the exit.

When she pushes through the doors, her legs stiffen, and she leans forward with her hands to her knees. Judith takes labored breaths, and her eyes grow misty.

"Judy," Mary calls for her as she slowly approaches from her left. She doesn't take her attention off the pavement, nor does she cease panting. With her brows wrinkled, Mary stands next to her friend, and she places her right hand on her back. "Judith, what's wrong?"

"I can't - breathe. I think - I'm dying." Mary assists her upright then scans her reddening face. When Judy's tears trickle down her cheeks, Mary emits a solemn sigh.

"You're spazzing. It's cool, my sister Sandra has these all the time, and she's very much alive, and well, so you'll be fine," she assures her. Mary tugs at the arms of Judith's backpack, and she helps her remove it. "Let's go sit in the student lounge. The seniors are selling nachos and slushies."

Mary tosses the left strap over her shoulder, then extends her right hand in front of her. Wheezing with tears clouding her vision and glasses, Judith places her trembling hand in hers.

***

"So, what made you spaz," Mary asks Judith. They're sitting on one of the sofas facing the wall adjacent to the exit. In front of them is a coffee table with magazines, books, and their two paper trays of nachos.

"I was thinking about something. I figured I buried it in my head, but," Judith stops speaking and takes a deep breath, shrugging her shoulders. She's stirring her red drink with her straw, refusing to look at Mary.

"You were thinking about David, I assume?" Judith's hand ceases and she licks her lips, then lifts her head.

"He's not all bad," she says with a forced smile. Her friend turns at the hips to face her, her right leg lying under the left.

"Tell that to the bruise on your neck." Judith places her cold right hand over his mark, gently caressing it. "You can't possibly believe that he loves you. Jude, any man who purposely hurts you doesn't love you; Love isn't pain."

"You don't know him, Mare. He's dealing with a lot more than you may understand." She rolls her eyes at Judy. Jerome glances at them from his table of friends. "My parents love him, and he loves them; Once we're married, he'll change; Seriously."

"I'm gonna get a refill," she mumbles, stands to her feet, and shakes her head. Judith watches her walk toward the concession stand before taking another breath. She leans forward in her seat and sits her cup between their trays.

"Hey," Jerome greets Judith while walking toward her. She looks at him, and the corners of her lips curl into a smile.

"Hey!" He sits beside her, grinning as well. "I'm sorry if I sounded way too enthusiastic. You're just a sight for sore eyes."

"Oh, well, thank you. I'm glad that I could put a smile on your face," he tells her. "Are you feeling okay?"

"Everyone's asking me that a lot lately," she says in a low voice with a humorous tone. "Yeah, I'm fine. I've just been a little tired."

"You say that a lot," he acknowledges. David steps through the doors and scans the room. "That and sorry."

"I would apologize for that, but I would only be proving your point." She chuckles dryly. David's eyes lock on them, and his heart begins to race, his hands curling into fists at his sides. "I've been feeling overwhelmed with my studies and home life, so I don't get much sleep at night. I suppose choosing to party on Saturday night wasn't my best decision either, but who can resist a good rager?"

David marches toward them, his body stiff with fury. Jerome opens his mouth to speak, inhaling a breath he immediately releases when he sees her boyfriend's red face.

"Um, Damien is approaching, and he looks pissed," he tells her, and she furrows her brows. Judith turns her head to follow his gaze and her expression relaxes.

"His name is David." She twists her body to face him when he stands near the right arm of the couch. Looking up at him, she asks, "Did you speak to Dean O'Connell?"

"Judy, stand up and follow me outside," he orders her in a low voice, but she's unable to hear him over the chatter of the other people.

"What?" He huffs a breath, then leans over into her right ear.

"Get up and follow me outside so we can talk." She watches him straighten his posture, and she glances at Jerome.

"I'll be right back," she tells him, and David narrows his eyes at her. He takes her upper arm in his left hand, then yanks her to her feet. Jerome jolts out of his seat. "David, let me go! I'm going!"

"Is there a problem," her boyfriend asks. She feebly struggles to remove his hand, but he tightens his grip with each attempt. His fingers perfectly wrap around her flesh and Jerome's visibly disturbed by how skinny she is.

"I could ask you the same thing." His friends' barstools squeak against the wood floor as they stand up. They watch with shocked expressions. "Let her go, and there won't be one."

"Excuse me?" He lets out an incredulous scoff. Everyone veers their heads to the scene when they hear his sudden loud voice, and Mary rushes toward them with her now full cup in hand.

"Don't make me repeat myself," Jerome warns him, and Judith shifts her gaze between the two of them.

"Let her go before I kick your ass," Mary threatens him from behind. She strolls around his right and stands between the two men.

"Mary, don't make it worse," she tells her in a soft, shaky voice, but it falls on deaf ears.

"You'd better listen to your friend, Marcia Brady. I would hate to see you do something stupid and hurt yourself," he taunts her, and her fingers tighten around the foam cup.

Without thinking, she thrusts it forward, and the contents splatter onto his face and shirt. A few of the onlookers gasp, and Jerome and Judith's eyes widen along with David's. He takes his hand off his girlfriend, then wipes the red beverage from his face.

"What the fuck," David yells with his eyes closed. Mary takes menacing steps toward him with a victorious smirk on her face, oblivious to Judith's fearsome glare.

"That was five bucks well spent." He blinks his eyes open, and they stare at each other as he takes rapid breaths, the ice penetrating his fabric and irritating his skin.

David shoves his palms against her chest, sending her to the floor with the cup flying from her hand. Jerome glances down at her, and when Eric notices his hands balling into fists, his eyes widen.

"What's wrong with you," Judith shouts at him, but he doesn't look at her. He's glaring at Jerome, waiting for him to react.

"Hey, 'Rome, let it go," Eric loudly warns him. "Remember what happened last time? Don't get involved."

"Do you want help," Jerome asks Judith after taking a deep breath to calm himself. She and David look at each other, then she shakes her head. He lowers his eyes onto Mary, who's scowling at them. "What about you?"

"No. I'm copacetic." She pushes herself to her feet and stares at her. "Still think he'll change?"

"You started this, Mary." She scoffs incredulously at Judith.

"Are you fucking joshing me, or does he really have you going batshit for him?" David folds his arms and watches his girlfriend. She stares at Jerome when he turns away from the scene and walks to his friends.

"I told you not to make it worse, and you didn't listen," Judith reminds her, and she scoffs.

"Excuse me for trying to help a friend who was clearly in distress," Mary yells.

"How does throwing your drink help," she raises her voice to match hers. Jerome and his friend climb onto their barstools and watch the three of them along with the crowd.

"You're unbelievable." Mary storms past them on her way out of the building, and Judith takes a breath, her eyes glued to Jerome.

"Come on," David mumbles to Judith as the crowd disperses. He takes her left hand in his right, then guides her toward the exit doors.