Church Girl Gone Wild by Ni’chelle Genovese Page B

was up for. I had been trying not to fidget while politely waiting for her to finish looking over my file. It must have been written in Latin based on how long it’d taken her to read over it. During that time I’d absentmindedly folded into myself in the chair across from her. My ankles were crossed and my legs were as far back under the chair as I could get them. A fake smile stretched the corners of her bright red lips upward as she propped her elbows up on the arms of her chair and began tapping her steepled fingers together. Mrs. Porter brought to mind all the well-to-do women I saw in church, which automatically put her on my “phony fake” list. I’d seen too many women smile that same smile all up in Momma Rose’s face only to hear about them trying to talk “privately” in Deacon’s office later. Those heffa’s had no idea he told Momma Rose everything. Momma Rose and Deacon had no idea I could hear everything they said through the vent in my bedroom floor.
    â€œEva, I know this is a sensitive subject.” Mrs. Porter leaned forward giving her best “fake care” face. “Most freshmen have the misconception that dating a professor will help them get ahead, but that is not the case. I don’t want you to feel pressured but is there anything you would like to tell me about any of your professors?”
    My heart did a swan dive into my toes. Granted yes, I’d been secretly seeing Que who was now my political science professor, but we were always careful. I still had Deacon and his “no men outside of the church” policy and the fact that messing up on my part meant a rushed ceremony with Leslie on his part. He’d been letting it hang over my head until the situation was darker than the clouds outside the window. The last thing I needed was to have mine and Leslie’s situation jacked up by someone who complained because they got a lower grade point average than they thought they deserved.
    Leaning forward I looked at her with real concern on my face. “No, ma’am. Why, is one of my professors some kind of pervy serial student humper?”
    She pursued her lips together looking down at the papers on her desk before answering. “No, Eva, but if there’s anything you’d like to tell me about any of your professors please don’t hesitate. Your family’s church goes way back with Norfolk State and they make generous donations to our programs.” She paused and her massive Reebok Pump orange bosom expanded, straining against the buttons on her suit jacket. “Programs that pay scholarships such as yours. Needless to say it’s imperative that you and I work together to ensure your collegiate career stays its course. That will be all if you don’t have anything to add.”
    With that I gave her a quick nod and skirted myself on up out of there before she popped or started in with more questions. I couldn’t make it through my first year without any drama? Bad enough I get stuck living at home instead of on campus. Get on the ball, girl, you’ve got to get on the ball.
    My brain was telling me to get to my next class so I wouldn’t get caught in the rain but I’d been ignoring my brain a lot lately. Skipping Mr. Jiel’s review in statistics right before our big exam was about to be number two on my list of dumbest decisions ever. The number one spot couldn’t even go to me whipping out my phone and texting Que to meet me ASAP.
    When I left the house that morning, it was sunny and almost seventy. Now the wind had picked up bringing an unseasonal chill; it was whipping the mess out of my 1b shoulder-length curls. I’d meticulously placed every curl so they framed my naturally round face perfectly. I didn’t grab an umbrella or a hoodie, and instantly regretted leaving the house in nothing more than a fitted V-neck T-shirt. It was the one Deacon hated with the word JUICY across