The very next day, Cameron groggily stumbles up the steps of the Student Union, his denim-turned-bedazzled satchel beating up his thigh. He waves his hand in greeting when he sees the junior waiting by the doors. Jaz looked nice in her gray school-branded sweatshirt, cargo pants—that really showed off her... never mind—and sensible sneakers that were perfect for the unreasonable cool August morning. 

On the other hand, Cameron preferred to dress for the season, not the weather. Thus, the ginger almost, almost, regretted his choice to wear his red brami, black mesh mermaid skirt, and platform flops. He had to uncurl his wine-colored toes several times on the way over after several too generous breezes. Right as the regret crept up, someone walked past him in a horribly stained onesie. Although he felt a second wind coming, it didn’t eliminate the tiredness in his voice.

“Mornin’,” the ginger croaks.

“Good morning, Sunshine. Did someone wake up on the wrong side of the bed?” 

If someone asks, he only crossed his arms because of the sudden breeze. However, Jazmine seems to take it as a pout and chuckles. While he doesn’t like that she’s laughing at him, goodness, Cameron couldn't get enough of the sound and how her nose scrunched up because of it. It's totally because of another gust of wind that he–not pout but–frowns.

“Oh, Cam. None of that. This will be worth it.”

Grabbing his hand, she tugs him past the entry, the coffee shop, and trickling in of tabling volunteers for different clubs, to get to the stairs. 

“More walking?”

“It helps you live longer,” she tries to encourage him, but Cam was too busy trying not to sound out of breath by the time they hit the third floor. 

“Please tell me it’s near.”

“We’re almost there, I promise.”

At least she wasn’t a liar thus far, he thinks to himself as they walk into a full-blown gathering. 

Oooh, she brought me to the potluck.

She brought him to the Welcome Back Breakfast, a collaborative effort from members of the Latin-Heritage Club and Black Student Association. Still, it wasn’t until now that the situation really hit. Looking around, he was one of the now three white-white people in the room. It’s an odd feeling, but not terrible. Just awkward as some people’s gazes lingered.

“Jaz!” 

Cameron blinks as a tall, dark-skinned guy bounds up to them like a golden retriever. The sophomore had to tilt his head to even see his face as he got closer.  

He’s handsome in a young Wesley Snipes way. 

The guy suddenly picks Jazmine up in a spin, pecking her temple so casually that it makes Cameron’s heart squeeze a little.

“Thank god you’re here. Where did you go, we-” 

Seeing the very pasty, feminine grunger next to Jazmine—a freakin’ Agojie—would give any person a pause, Cameron reasoned as the silence stretched. 

I must’ve reset him, the ginger thinks as he works up the courage to break the ice.

“Hi,” the sophomore offers with a nervous, albeit tight smile.

“I see you brought the…person you mentioned,” loosening his grip on her, but still holding Jazmine close. “Amari, he-him. President of the BSA. I’m a senior majoring in Criminal Justice and minoring in psychology.”

Cameron’s proverbial antennas immediately surface. “What do you want to do with that?”

“Victim Advocacy.” The sophomore felt his eyebrows leap to his hairline as he got a little excited. “I've got an internship at a victim service agency lined up after I graduate. What about you? I didn’t even catch your name.”

“Uh, I’m Cameron, he-him. Just transferred, and got bumped back to second year credits-wise. I’m majoring in Social Work with a minor in political science, and another in criminal justice as well.” 

The two boys' eyes meet, and Cameron feels relief as the senior simultaneously smiles and lets his arm slip off Jazmine’s shoulder. 

“Really?”

“Mhmm.”

“Are you considering advocacy as well, or…?”

He usually doesn’t like going on a tangent, but Amari and Jazmine look genuinely interested. Cameron notes, in particular, how her eyes rest on him entirely, despite the growing noise in the background. 

“It’s up in the air, honestly. I’d love to work with teachers and school systems on resources to help give equitable experiences for students with sensory disabilities.”

“Like welcoming interpreters and understanding their job,” Jazmine asks. 

“Or,” Amari jumps in. “Are we talking about protocols for alternative lesson planning and resource development?”

Cameron couldn’t help but smile.

"Ideally, both! Like, when people think of disabilities, 504s, and IEPs, they think, oh, mobility issues, behavioral problems, or neurodivergence. But working with supplemental aids, like assistive systems, differently formatted material, what have you, for students that have visual, hearing, and various sensory conditions.” 

"Yuh. A public school legally has to offer said accommodations, but that doesn’t mean they’re good,” Amari jumps in. Cameron's head was practically a bobble head with how much he was nodding.

“That’s what I’m saying! While an educator may know of and grasp the basic functions of, say, the role of an interpreter or how assistive systems work, that doesn't mean they actually understand how to use them in a way that creates an equitable experience of a lesson plan." 

Cameron has to take a deep breath after that last sentence, finally becoming aware of his surroundings again. The people nearby were clearly listening, as evidenced by their raised brows and slightly amused faces. But they weren't that close to have heard unless he had raised his voice above an acceptable conversation level. 

Fuck. 

"Uh and, uh. Yeah. Sorry about that.”