Episode 3.5- Jeremy's Story

“ The final papers will be due this Friday. They should be at least six to eight pages long. All of the formatting rules still apply. Please note, I will NOT accept late papers,” Professor Green instructed her students. She looked out into her class of twenty-two freshmen, many busy texting rather than taking notes. A few others were staring out the window or dozing off to sleep. Suddenly, a hand in the back of the room flew up in the air.

“Wait. Our papers are due this Friday?” The blond-haired guy asked. Dressed in khaki shorts and a white shirt, he sat lackadaisically tapping his Rainbow flip flops against the tile floor. His cell phone sat in his lap.

“Yes, Jeremy. This Friday. As in the day after tomorrow. Are there any other questions about the paper?” Professor Green looked around the class. No one budged.
“Well, I will see you all this Friday. Please remember—“ the rest of her words were muffled by the sounds book bags zipping and feet shuffling out the door.

Outside the classroom, Jeremy’s roommate, Marshall, stood waiting. “Dude! What took you so long? Mike and Will are waiting. Let’s go!”

The four guys had been engaged in a serious battle of Call of Duty: Black Ops since the game premiered a few weeks ago. Their days and nights were consumed with it, and the four found little time for anything else. Their dorm room resembled the typical guy dorm room, strewn with snack wrappers and piles of clothes (their cleanliness questionable), and their larger than necessary television in the middle of the room, game system hooked up and ready to go. Once inside, the guys resumed their game which lasted into the wee hours of the morning. After a quick meal break, they settled back into their respected areas, game controllers in hand, and were back in action.

“Dammit! I almost had him!”
“Watch behind you, Will!”
“What the--? I shot him! He should be dead!”
“YEA!!!! That’s how it’s done. What?! What?!” Jeremy stood up and basked in his victory, taunting his roommates.
“Man..I’m done. I have a Chem test in the morning.” Mike stood up, brushing Doritos crumbs from his leg.
“I know you’re not punking out now?! We were moving up in ranks. C’mon!” Jeremy tossed a pillow in Mike’s direction. “You can study later.”
“Don’t you have a paper to write?” Will asked.
“I don’t have class til noon tomorrow. I got plenty of time to get it done,” Jeremy scoffed.
“My girlfriend has the same professor. She’s been working on that paper for like two weeks.”
“Well..maybe because your girlfriend is a nerd. She has nothing better else to do with her time. I mean, she is dating you!” Jeremy laughed and the other guys joined in.
“Whatever. I’ll catch you guys later.” Mike grabbed his things and left, with Will following shortly after.
“Marsh, you still playing?” Jeremy asked his roommate.
“Nah, not now. Tomorrow. I got some stuff I need to get done.”
“Fine. Bunch of sore losers.” Jeremy restarted the game and continued playing.

A few hours later, he glanced over at the clock and noticed it was after midnight. Probably should get started on that paper, he thought. Knock out a few pages, sleep, wake up early and finish the rest—no problem, he assured himself. He sat down at his desk, turned on his laptop, and logged on to Facebook. 1am and I’m just startin’ my English paper dats due 2morrow..smh..No worries, he wrote as his status. He took another twenty minutes or so reading his friends’ updates and commenting on new pictures that had been posted. Finally, he opened a blank Word document and begin to type....

The loud slam of a door down the hall startled Jeremy awake. He yawned and wiped his eyes. Looking at his computer screen, he blinked several times in disbelief. 11:00am?! He jumped from his chair and looked around the room distressingly. An hour before class. There was no way he could get his paper done in time! He knew there was no way Professor Green would accept it late either. He tried to think of a good excuse. Car accident? Death in the family? Sick? Computer crash? Unfortunately, he’d used all of those excuses already this semester. Stuck between a rock and a hard place, he did what he felt he had no other choice but to do. Sitting back down at his computer, he pulled up the Google website and typed “free essays” in the search box.

Jeremy made it to class about five minutes after twelve, with "his" paper in hand, just as Professor Green called for the class to pass the essays to the front. He said a silent prayer as he gave his paper to the girl seated in front of him. After all essays had been collected, Professor Green quickly looked through them and dismissed the class.

Relieved, Jeremy made his way back to his room and started a new game of Call of Duty. It took only a few hours for him to completely forget (once again) about his paper and his impending grade. His roommate, Will and Mike came after they were finished with their classes, and the guys spent their weekend as they had so many others. During one of their meal breaks, Jeremy took a few minutes to get on Facebook. Scrolling through his news feed he noticed a friend's status: Final grades gettin posted already..B in Biology..B in English..alrite! His friend was in Professor's Green class an hour before him. Had she already graded their essays? Jeremy felt his pulse quicken as he rushed over to the school's website to check his grades. There, next to "English Composition," was a big, bold F. Surely, that couldn't be right. Next, he checked his email. There was one new message in his inbox. From Professor Green. Nervously, he clicked on the small envelope to open it.

Jeremy,
It has come to my attention that the paper you turned in on Friday was not your work. As stated in the class syllabus, University policy for plagiarism warrants a grade of an F for the course and a report to be filed to the Dean. At the beginning of the semester, I mentioned that it was my hopes that in addition to (or in the place of) learning how to become better writers, that you all would learn/take something from the class that would be of beneficial to you. One of those things is the consequences of all decisions that you make, big or small. Because you made the conscious decision to plagiarize, then you will be receiving a F for the course. If you have any questions or would like to appeal your grade, you are free to come by my office any time during my office hours next week to discuss the next course of action.

Jeremy sighed and sunk down in his chair.

"Hey Jer, you still playing?? Come on!"

Episode 2.5- Shawanda's Story

“Girl! Would you come out the dressing room already? I wanna see how it look!” Trisha sucked her teeth and rolled her eyes, as she sat her purse on the top of Shawanda’s daughter’s baby stroller. The toddler sat inside, dressed head to toe in House of Dereon and pink Jordans, nibbling on crackers with crumbs covering her face.

“I’m comin. Hol’ up! Ooh..this is cuute! Wait til this weekend. Imma shut the club DOWN! All them bitches gon’ be hatin too..watch and see,”Shawanda laughed as she stepped out of the dressing room. The Lycra-polyester-pleather-blend-two-sizes-too-small outfit hugged every curve and crease on Shawanda as she strutted in front of the 3-way mirror.

“All you need is some accessories and you good to go! That’s fiya! Can we get something to eat though? I’m hungry as hell. I want a cinnabon and a pretzel. Let’s go to the food court.” Both ladies nodded in agreement. “You hungry too, aint you hungry Stank-Stank?” Trisha looked down at the little girl in the stroller who had finished the crackers she was munching on earlier.

“Mama’s Stank-Stank. Look at your face. Just a mess.” Shawanda walked over to her daugther and wiped her face. After Shawanda found the matching accessories to her outfit, she and Trisha walked toward the Food Court. After making stops at Auntie Anne’s, Cinnabon, and Panda Express, the two found a table and began to eat. A few minutes later, they spotted two females near the McDonald’s. The females were looking their way and whispering to each other.

“Isn’t that Curtis’ other baby mama?” Trisha asked. Shawanda didn’t bother to look but continued feeding her daughter.

“Yeah, that’s her. I’m not even gonna turn around. She always got something to say.”

“Well, you won’t have to. She’s on her way over. Oh, Lord..” Trisha let out a heavy sigh.

“Uh, can you tell Curtis that his SON needs some money? Seems like he got it to waste buying Jordans and shit. Ask him why he ain't bothered to return my phone calls?” Diamond stood near the two with her hands on her hip. Shawanda finished feeding her daughter a spoonful of fried rice before responding.

“Don’t be mad at me because YOUR child wearing hand-me-downs and my babies rocking all the fly shit. You know good and well that ain’t even Curtis’ son. We ALL know how you get around. Curtis comes home to me every night. Guess you wasn't putting it down like you thought. He’s getting that good-good now.”

“Listen hoe, don’t try me. And if he was gettin the ‘good-good’, he wouldn't be running back to my bed. He wasn’t with you last night, was he?!” Diamond raised her voice and several people stopped and looked toward their table. “I will wipe this whole mall with your fat ass. Please believe me!” She flung her multi-colored bang from her face, revealing the “D & C” tattoo on her neck.

Shawanda pushed her daughter’s stroller to the side and stood up.“What you waiting on then? Huh? Do what you need to do!” Shawanda walked up to Diamond, towering over her by nearly a foot and an extra hundred pounds. More bystanders stopped and looked on at what was sure to become a spectacle. “You got alot mouth b--” Before Shawanda could finish, Diamond’s fist collided with her jaw. She staggered back, grabbing the table to regain her balance. As she tried to return a punch, Diamond grabbed a handful of her hair, and began punching repeatedly. Shawanda shifted her weight and the two both fell on the floor and began rolling around in the middle of the food court. Spectators hooted and hollered as the two continued fighting, while Trisha stood near the stroller as Shawanda’s daughter watched on. A few minutes later, security guards made their way through the crowd and pulled the two women apart. They stood on opposite sides of the security guard, breathing hard and hair-dos mangled, still shouting obscenities at one another.

While the guards handcuffed both women tried to get a report of what happened, Shawanda’s daughter began pointing and yelled out, “Daddy! Daddy!” Trisha rocked the stroller trying to calm her, when she noticed what the little girl was pointing toward. Coming out of Victoria’s Secret was indeed her daddy, cuddled up with another woman.