I’ve been most excited about theater class this term. There are no exams and I like the idea of dressing up and pretending to be someone else. I’m terrified to do this in front of other people, but I’m pushing myself to step outside of my comfort zone. The theater professor, Mrs. Nielson, is quirky and far removed from the box. She wears colorful clothes, her hair is always frazzled, and the syllables of her words stretch out for dramatic emphasis. Does she talk like this at dinner with her husband and kids? I wonder how someone finds the courage to so freely express themselves. I’m scared of her freedom and what she will make me do, so I hide in the back of the class. I know she’s going to find me eventually, but for now this is safe.

Another semester means more racial conflict. This time mostly generated by the Dartmouth Beacon and their controversial slate of guests, including Rush Limbaugh, Congressman Ron Paul, and Dinesh D’Souza. Now, three weeks into the semester, the Dartmouth Beacon has written a scathing proclamation to President Roberts demanding the end of affirmative action for incoming students. The air on campus is thick with tension and disagreement, which is the perfect time to secretly infiltrate a Dartmouth Beacon meeting, according to Keli.

“If we are going to make it in this world,” Keli says, “we have to know how they think.”

“Yea, but don’t you think four negroes walking in together will be suspicious?”

“That’s why we don’t walk in together,” Keli says. “We go separately and pretend to be like Daniel. Just Black individuals down for the cause.”

“Um, I’m afraid,” I say. “They are going to know we don’t belong there. We’re gonna need all the deities to get us through this… and Freddy.”

Earnell reaches into his bag and pulls out the Nightmare on Elm Street doll. “Gotcha covered.”

Right before we leave for the meeting, Earnell gets on his knees and leans over the side of his bed.

“Oh my God, what are you doing, Earnell?” I ask. “And why are you dressed like a rich white man from Connecticut?” He is wearing Dockers pants and shoes and a powder-blue, collared, button-down shirt with a sweater tied around his neck.

“I’m praying and I suggest you all join me. And to blend in. Duh. Is that what you’re wearing? That ridiculous ‘disguise’ is going to be a dead giveaway you don’t belong.”

My jeans, black turtleneck, and trademark black sunglasses are insufficient for conservative infiltration, apparently.