Yes!

As the car slides smoothly out of the campus parking lot and into the streets. You rest your head against the window, eyes wide as the city unfolds around you. The buildings feel so different from home, taller, brighter, like they’re competing to grab your attention. Billboards stretch across rooftops, neon signs blink above diners and shops, and every street corner looks busy with people rushing in all directions. Back in Germany, things always felt a little quieter, smaller, more compact. Here, it’s overwhelming, but exciting. Cars honk, music blares from somewhere down the street, and you catch a group of black skateboarders weaving past traffic as if the rules don’t apply to them. At home it would have been cyclists ignoring the rules. Even the sidewalks feel alive, crowded with people carrying iced coffees, backpacks, and shopping bags.

“So,” you finally say, pulling your eyes away from the window, “I wanted to ask about Friday. The party at Sarah’s place… what’s it going to be like? I mean, not everyone is twenty-one yet right? me included. And nobody here is allowed to drink before twenty-one, so… am I missing something, or how does that work for a party?”

Jamal bursts out laughing, shaking his head. “Oh, lil guy, don’t even worry about that. Parties here don’t stop just because of age rules. Some of us are over twenty-one already, so it’s not a big deal. The guys that can buy stuff, bring it with them. If it’s **** or weed you like more, it will be there.”

You’re surprised, somehow you never thought Jamal and his friends would smoke weed. It feels like such a stereotype, but before you can ask, he continues: “And besides, it’s Sarah’s house. Her parents are loaded and gone for the week. Place is perfect for a party, even got a pool and a big garden too.”

You tilt your head, concerned. “Her parents just let her throw a party like that?”

“They don’t gotta ‘let’ her do anything,” Jamal says with a grin. “They’re on vacation. Big fancy house all to ourselves, it would be a waste not to use it. And you know, what they dont know can't hurt them."he gives you a sly smile and continues. "Every fall, when everyone’s back from summer break, someone from the club hosts a welcome-back party. It’s mostly BSA, of course. And since you’re officially part of the club now, you’re in.”

You smile, still surprised. “It’s still weird to think you actually asked me to be in your BSA after knowing me for only a day.”

You think about it for a moment, and you see the club just a social thing for you right now to get to know more people, you don't even really know what the Black Students Association is about.

You dont know it yet, but you surely will be surprised when you join your first meeting next week.

“Hey, you said yes to my invitation,” Jamal replies with mock seriousness. “That makes it official. You belong to us now. And trust me, Friday’s going to be a blast. All the current members will be there, plus some who graduated last semester. They like to come back for the parties, catch up, show off their eye candy, and see everyone again. Usually it’s around twenty people, give or take.”

“Twenty?” you repeat, eyes widening a little. “That’s a lot. I’m not sure I’ve ever been at a house party that big before.”

If you’re honest with yourself, you’ve never really been to any house party. The only ‘parties’ you’ve ever attended were Emma’s birthdays, and those were mostly just small dinners with her, her boyfriend, and her family. Not really house parties, per se. But you don’t have to reveal how sad and boring your life actually is to Jamal.

Jamal laughs again. “You’ll be fine. You already know some of the crew, Taylor, Maria, Sarah, Justin. And of course, my guys: Trent, Dior, Jason, Ash… you’ll meet him Friday. He’s cool. And all the other members. It’s like family, really. You’ll fit right in.”

You nod slowly, trying to picture it. A big American house full of mostly black people you’ve only just met. “It still feels kind of unreal. Back home, I never really got invited to parties. And now I’m going to one in, like, one of those giant houses you only see in movies.”

“Exactly,” Jamal says, glancing at you with that easy smile of his. “Think of it as your first proper American college experience. Music, food, booze, weed, people chilling everywhere. It’s gonna be fun.”

“Never really been a drinker back home. Also haven’t ever tried weed, though I know its smell from walking down the streets in my city,” you confess.

“Really?” He looks surprised. “Isn’t Germany like the land of beer and all that?”

“Well… that’s mostly true, just not for me, I guess,” you answer honestly.

“Not even tried weed either?” he asks, shaking his head. “Gonna have to change that real fast. The brothers will be so excited that we’re the ones to pop your weed cherry,” he jokes.

You give him a contained chuckle, but your lack of enthusiasm makes him glance over. “Of course you don’t have to at all, I didn’t mean to make you feel uncomfortable, Emile,” he says, giving you an apologetic smile. “But if you’d like to try it, it’ll be there. And my family is always nice, so no one will pressure you.”

“Oh no, don’t worry about it. I think I would try it at least once,” you say, trying to sound cool. “You know, new place, new me and all that.” It maybe came out a little cringe, but it makes Jamal laugh.

“That’s the spirit. But really, Emile, if you don’t want to do it, no one will **** you.” Jamal places his right hand on your knee and gives it a squeeze. “We have to be careful not to instantly knock you out though, the boys make their joints way too strong.” He lifts his hand off your knee, but the heat of his tuch still remains, making you feel kind of funny inside. “But we’ll figure it out.”

You turn back to the window, not sure if trying anything at the party is the best idea. You wouldn’t want to make a fool of yourself, but that’s probably a problem for later. For now, you just focus on the drive, since the streets keep surprising you: huge parking lots outside grocery stores, fast-food drive-thrus with cars lined up, giant trucks that roar past as if they own the road. Everything feels oversized compared to home.

“Everything here just seems… big,” you murmur without thinking.

Jamal chuckles. “Welcome to America, my guy. Big cars, big streets, big food, big malls, and a lot of other stuff that’s pretty big.” He chuckles to himself before adding, “I know a few black guys that can relate.”

You roll your eyes at his innuendo. “Damn, that was awful,” you laugh. “But also, you don’t have to brag, I’ve seen the condoms.” You remember handing him Samuel’s forgotten box of XL condoms and Jamal telling you they were too small.

"Hey man, whats true is true, I won't be lying to you" he gives you a sly grin. “You’ll get used to it though.” It isn’t clear if he means the bad innuendos or the size of everything here, maybe even both.

You look over at him and smile. “If I don’t get lost in it first.”

“Nah, man,” Jamal says confidently. “You got me. I’m a great guide. You’ll be fine.”

For a moment, the two of you sit in comfortable silence, the hum of the SUV carrying you deeper out of the city. Somewhere in the distance, you catch sight of the skyline, tall glass towers glinting in the sunlight, stretching higher than anything you’ve ever seen back home. Your heart beats a little faster. Home, family, friends, everything feels so very far away, because it literally is. But maybe that’s not such a bad thing.

The skyline fades as Jamal takes an exit, and soon the road widens into long strips of shops and restaurants. You spot fast-food chains you’ve only ever seen online, gyms with glowing signs, and stores that seem to stretch for entire blocks.

“Man, this city is huge,” you mutter, your forehead leaning against the glass.

“Wait till you see the mall,” Jamal says with a laugh. “Place makes all this look small.”

You smile, shaking your head. “I can’t even imagine. Back home we had shopping centers, but nothing like what you guys call malls.”

There’s a pause, and you think about something else. “Hey… it never came up and it’s embarrassing after spending a whole day with you, but what are you studying?”

“Sociology,” Jamal answers without hesitation. “As you know, I’m big on community, how people move together, Black culture.”

He glances at the CDs visibly protruding from the center console. All are from Black hip hop artists. “That’s why I vibe with hip hop so much. It’s more than just music, it’s history, storytelling, a way of living. You’ll hear me talk about it a lot, over the next few months trust me.”

You nod, intrigued. “That sounds… deeper than what I usually think about when I hear rap. Back home, I mostly just listened to pop music on the radio. But I get it, you make it sound like more than music.”

“Because it is,” Jamal says, a grin tugging at his lips. “You’ll see. I’ll put you on to some real stuff soon.”

You hesitate before admitting, “I’m going into creative writing. I’ve always loved to write stories, since it helped me forget the real world. So this is the perfect opportunity to get better and really learn how to do it.”

“Bro, that’s perfect,” Jamal replies immediately. “Writing, rap, poetry, ytory writing, it’s all the same family. You’ll fit right in.”

The encouragement makes you smile. All this talk of fitting in, comments about bodies, and jokes about sizes over yesterday and now, it nudges something uncomfortable in you. Every single one of Jamal’s friends, and the others from the BSA, they all look like they’re working out probably more than two or three times a week. Most of Jamal’s homies are as tall as him, or even taller, in Jason’s case.

You try to imagine yourself in the group and yes, yesterday it was great, they were kind and made you feel like you could belong. But looking at the full picture makes you ask yourself: do you really fit into their group? You’re not tall, you don’t have the gym figure that almost all of them have, your damn sure that you definitely can't compare in the dick size department either and you don’t even have any real connection to the Black community.

All those years of bullying and exclusion in school, because your body was just built different, really took a toll on your self-esteem. When you look at Jamal, you almost see perfection. You see a man so comfortable in his body that he’d probably walk naked through campus if he could, just to show off how good-looking and perfectly chiseled he is.

When you look at, or think about, yourself, you see none of that confidence or perfection that the Black man beside you has. Maybe you can talk about it with him. He was so nice every time you opened up about your insecurities, like yesterday when he did his best to build you up and make you feel more comfortable with your thick bubble butt. Hell, he even got you to agree to this shopping trip, to buy new pants that fit you better and show off more.

If there’s someone here to talk about that stuff, it’s Jamal.