Tuesday morning started like every other day - 5:30 AM alarm, Cameron snoring like a freight train, and me already wide awake staring at the ceiling.
But today felt different. Yesterday's practice had me thinking about a lot of shit. The way those dudes looked at me after I made those catches. Coach Rivera asking all those questions. Tyler acting like I was about to steal his spot or something.
Truth was, I wasn't trying to steal nobody's spot. I just wanted to play football and make something of myself. But these California kids were different - everything was about competition and status and who was better than who.
Back home, if you could play, you played. Simple as that. Here, it was like some kind of social hierarchy I didn't understand yet.
I got dressed quietly and headed to the dining hall for breakfast. The campus was peaceful at this hour - just maintenance workers and a few early joggers. I liked this time of day. Reminded me of those early morning runs back in Chicago, when the city was quiet and I could just think.
Walking across campus, I wondered what the boys were doing right now. Probably still asleep, or maybe Rico was already at the batting cages getting his swings in before school. Dude was obsessed like that when he put his mind to something.
The dining hall was mostly empty except for some swimmers and track athletes getting their morning fuel. I loaded up my tray with eggs, bacon, and oatmeal - same shit I'd been eating since I got here. Food was good, way better than the cafeteria food back home, but sometimes I missed my grandma's cooking.
"Mind if I sit?"
I looked up to see Isabella Rodriguez standing with her own breakfast tray. She was wearing jeans and a simple t-shirt, looking way more normal than most of the girls here who dressed like they were going to a fashion show every damn day.
"Sure."
She sat down across from me, setting down what looked like some kind of fancy yogurt bowl with fruit and granola. Even her breakfast looked healthier than mine.
"How are you adjusting to everything?" she asked, stirring her yogurt.
"It's alright. Different from what I'm used to, but alright."
"I bet. This place can be overwhelming at first. All the rules, the social dynamics, the academic pressure."
I studied her face while I ate. She seemed genuine, not like she was trying to get something from me like some of the other students who'd approached me. But I was still figuring out who to trust here.
"You been here long?"
"Since freshman year. My dad got a job with some tech company out here, so we moved from Phoenix."
"That must've been hard. Leaving your friends and shit."
"Language matters here," she said with a small smile. "But yeah, it was tough. You adapt though, you know? Find your place, make new connections."
I almost laughed. This girl was trying to give me etiquette lessons. "My bad. Leaving your friends and... stuff."
"Better," she said, and her smile was teasing now, not judgmental. "So about that interview - still interested?"
"Yeah, I guess. What kind of stuff you want to know?"
"Just your story. Where you came from, what brought you here, what it's like being the new kid from a completely different background."
"My background ain't that different."
Isabella raised an eyebrow. "Jakari, you're from Chicago public schools. Most kids here have been in private school since kindergarten. Their parents are lawyers, doctors, tech executives. That's a pretty different background."
She wasn't wrong. Yesterday at lunch, I'd listened to kids talking about their families' vacation houses in Aspen and trips to Europe like it was nothing. Meanwhile, the furthest I'd ever been from Chicago was Indiana for basketball tournaments. One kid was complaining about having to fly commercial instead of private jet. I didn't even know people our age flew on private jets.
"I mean, money-wise, yeah. But people are people everywhere."
"True. But money creates different opportunities, different expectations, different pressures."
I thought about that while I finished my eggs. These kids had every advantage in the world - private coaches, elite training, college consultants, whatever they needed. But they also seemed stressed as hell about maintaining their status. Back home, we were stressed about survival. Here, they were stressed about not disappointing their parents' expectations.
"You writing about all that for the newspaper?"
"I write about whatever interests me. Social dynamics, academic pressure, the intersection of privilege and opportunity." She paused, looking at me carefully. "The way different backgrounds can actually be strengths instead of deficits."
"That sounds smart as hell."
Isabella laughed, and it was a real laugh, not the fake shit most of these girls did. "Thanks. I think. You seem surprised that I'm interested in serious topics."
"Nah, it's just... most of the conversations I've had here are about football or what party is happening this weekend."
"Well, most of the people you've been talking to are teenage boys on a football team. Not exactly known for deep philosophical discussions."
That made me smile. She was right about that.
"So Thursday after classes? Library?"
"Yeah, that works."
After breakfast, I headed to English with Mrs. Henderson. She was already at her desk when I walked in, organizing papers and looking like she'd been awake for hours. Reminded me of my mom before she got sick - always up early, always working.
"Good morning, Jakari. How are you settling in?"
"Good, ma'am. Still getting used to everything."
"I imagine it's quite an adjustment. If you ever need extra help with the coursework, don't hesitate to ask."
The way she said it wasn't condescending like some teachers. She genuinely seemed to want me to succeed. That was new.
I took my seat as other students filtered in. Most of them looked half-asleep, probably stayed up too late on their phones or doing whatever rich kids did at night. FaceTiming friends in different time zones, maybe.
Today we were talking about symbolism in "The Great Gatsby" again. I'd actually read ahead last night, trying to stay caught up. The book was growing on me - something about a dude chasing a dream that was always just out of reach felt familiar.
"The green light at the end of Daisy's dock - what might this symbolize?"
A girl named Sophie raised her hand. "Hope? The American Dream?"
"Excellent. And why might Fitzgerald have chosen the color green specifically?"
I found myself thinking about it. Green like money, green like jealousy, green like something just out of reach. Green like the color of the bills my mom used to count over and over, trying to make them stretch. But I kept my mouth shut. These kids were way better at this analysis stuff than me.
"Mr. Williams, what do you think?"
Shit. Mrs. Henderson was looking right at me. I could feel other students turning to look too. Probably expecting me to say something dumb.
"Um... maybe it's like wanting something you can't have? Like, he can see it but he can't reach it."
"Very insightful. The distance between desire and reality. That's exactly the kind of thinking Fitzgerald was exploring."
A few kids turned to look at me, and I could see the surprise on their faces. Yeah, the Black kid from Chicago public school can actually think. Shocking.
"Building on that," Mrs. Henderson continued, "how does this relate to Gatsby's relationship with his past?"
Preston Morrison jumped in like he always did. Kid loved the sound of his own voice. "He's trying to recreate something that's already gone. Like, he thinks he can go back in time."
"Precisely. And Jakari, given your observation about wanting something you can't reach, how might this apply to the broader theme of the American Dream in the novel?"
Now everyone was really looking at me. I took a deep breath and thought about it for real. About Gatsby working his ass off for something that was never really there. About my dad thinking one big score would fix everything. About myself, chasing this football dream that might just be another green light.
"Maybe... maybe the whole American Dream thing is like that green light. You can see it, you work toward it, but it's always just out of reach. And by the time you get close, it's not the same thing you wanted in the first place. Like, maybe the dream changes you more than you change your situation."
Mrs. Henderson's face lit up. "That's remarkably perceptive. You've just articulated one of Fitzgerald's central critiques of American society."
The rest of the class was looking at me different now. Not like the dumb jock they probably expected, but like someone who actually had thoughts about shit. It felt good, but also weird. I wasn't used to being the smart one in class.
After class, Mrs. Henderson called me over.
"Jakari, that was excellent analysis today. You have a natural ability to connect literature to larger human experiences."
"Thanks, ma'am."
"I hope you'll continue participating in our discussions. Your perspective adds something valuable to our classroom conversations."
Walking out, I felt pretty good about myself. Maybe I wasn't as behind academically as I thought. Or maybe these kids just never had to think about real life the way I did.
The rest of the morning was a blur of classes and note-taking. Chemistry was still kicking my ass, but at least I was understanding more of it. By lunch time, I was ready for a break.
During lunch, I sat with Cameron and some of the second team guys I'd been practicing with. Tony Valdez, one of the linebackers, was talking about some party this weekend while shoving a burger in his mouth.
"You coming to Danny Chen's thing on Saturday?" he asked me, ketchup dripping down his chin.
"Don't know yet. Depends."
"His parents are out of town, big house in the hills. Should be fun."
James Patterson, a defensive end who was built like a truck, leaned over. "Bring swim trunks. Dude's pool is sick."
I was still getting used to how casually these kids talked about their wealth. Back home, if someone had a pool, that was a big deal. Here, it was just Tuesday.
"We'll see," I said.
Cameron finished his sandwich and looked at me. "You want to get off campus for a bit? Me and some guys are going to grab coffee."
I looked around the dining hall. Same conversations, same faces, same feeling like I was living in a movie about rich kids. "Sure, why not."
We walked off campus with Derek Chen and Alex Morrison, heading toward what Cameron called "the village" - basically a strip of shops and restaurants near the school. It felt good to get away from all the Malibu Prep logos and perfectly manicured lawns.
The coffee place was called "Grind Coffee" and looked exactly like what I'd expect from a California coffee shop - exposed brick, plants everywhere, college students with laptops pretending to work on screenplays or whatever.
"What you want?" Cameron asked as we got in line behind some surfer-looking dude ordering something with seventeen different specifications.
I looked at the menu on the wall. Half the shit on there I'd never heard of. Macchiato? Cortado? Back home, coffee was coffee. "Just a regular coffee, I guess."
"Bro, you gotta try something better than that. Get a cappuccino or something."
"I don't know what that is."
Derek laughed, but not in a mean way. "It's just coffee with steamed milk and foam. Not that complicated."
When we got to the counter, the barista - some college-aged white girl with purple hair and more piercings than I could count - smiled at Cameron like she knew him.
"Hey Cameron! The usual?"
"Yeah, but make it a large today. I got practice later. And my friend here will take a cappuccino."
She looked at me with curiosity. "You're new, right? I haven't seen you around."
"Yeah, just transferred."
"Cool. Where from?"
"Chicago."
"Oh wow, that's a big change. What brings you to sunny California?"
Cameron jumped in before I could answer. "Football scholarship. This dude's gonna be our new star receiver."
I felt my face get hot. I hated when people talked me up like that. "I'm just trying to contribute to the team."
The barista - her name tag said Emma - smiled at me. "That's awesome. I'm Emma, by the way."
"Jakari."
"Nice to meet you, Jakari from Chicago. I went to Northwestern for a year before transferring out here. Small world."
"For real? What made you transfer?"
"Weather, mostly. And the film program here is better." She started working on our drinks. "What's Chicago like? I only saw the campus area."
"Different from here. Colder, for sure. More... I don't know, real I guess."
"What do you mean, real?" Derek asked.
While we waited for our drinks, I tried to figure out how to explain it without sounding like I was talking shit about their lifestyle.
"I don't know. Just seems like people here got a lot of shit handed to them. Back home, you had to work for everything."
Alex Morrison, who'd been quiet up until now, shifted uncomfortably. "That's not necessarily true. Just because our families have money doesn't mean we don't work hard."
"I didn't say y'all don't work hard. I just said it's different when you know you got a safety net."
Cameron nodded thoughtfully. "He's got a point. Like, if I mess up academically, my parents will get me tutors, maybe donate some money to get me into college anyway. That's not an option for everyone."
"Exactly," I said. "Where I'm from, you mess up, that's it. No second chances, no daddy's connections to bail you out."
Emma called out our names and we grabbed our drinks. The cappuccino was actually pretty good - stronger than regular coffee but smooth. Made me think about my mom, who used to drink instant coffee every morning because it was cheaper.
We found a table outside and sat in the California sunshine. It was weird, drinking fancy coffee in the middle of the day like we were adults or something. These kids lived like adults in a lot of ways, but had never had adult responsibilities.
"So what's your plan?" Derek asked, stirring sugar into his drink. "College football? NFL?"
"Just trying to get through high school first. But yeah, college would be nice. Maybe get a degree, have something to fall back on."
"Fall back on? Bro, if you're as good as people are saying, you could go straight to the league after college."
I thought about that. The NFL seemed like a fantasy, something that happened to other people on TV. But with the Jerry Rice system, maybe it wasn't as crazy as it sounded. Still felt weird thinking about it though.
"We'll see. Long way between here and there."
Alex was looking at his phone. "Shit, we better head back. Practice starts in thirty minutes."
As we walked back to campus, I found myself relaxing a bit. These guys weren't trying to make me feel like an outsider. They seemed genuinely curious about my background, not like they were studying me like some kind of science experiment.
But I could still feel the distance between us. They asked about my "plan" like it was a choice between good options. For me, football wasn't a plan - it was the only way out.
After practice, I decided to explore the campus library. The place was huge - three stories with study rooms, computer labs, and more books than I'd ever seen in one place. Students were scattered around, some actually studying, others just on their laptops doing whatever.
I found a quiet corner and pulled out my phone to check messages.
Better Men
Rico: Yo, went to see Coach Martinez after batting practice today. He said I can try out for Varsity next year if I keep improving
Marcus: That's dope! I got good news too - met with the varsity soccer coach. He wants to see me play in a scrimmage
Dre: Y'all making moves! I'm still just cleaning and helping with the youth program, but it feels good being back in the gym
Me: Had to talk about some deep shit in English class today. Teacher said I had good insights
Rico: Look at you being all intellectual and shit 😂
Me: Shut up fool. But for real, this place is different. These kids got problems but they ain't real problems, you know?
Marcus: How you mean?
Me: Like one kid was complaining about his dad's company moving to Singapore and having to switch boarding schools. That's his biggest trauma
Dre: Must be nice having that be your worst problem
Rico: Facts. But don't let that shit get to you. You belong there same as anyone else
Me: I know. Just different worlds. Went off campus today with some teammates, had coffee at this fancy place
Marcus: Coffee? Since when you drink coffee?
Me: Since California lol. It was actually good though. Cappuccino or some shit
Rico: Bro you're becoming bougie 😂
Me: Never that. Still the same fool from the South Side
Marcus: You still our same boy though. Don't let them change you
Me: Never that. Miss y'all though
Rico: Miss you too bro. But we're all doing what we gotta do
Reading their messages made me smile but also made my chest tight. I missed them like crazy. Missed being around people who understood where I came from, who didn't need explanations for why certain shit mattered.
I also had texts from Maya with more pictures of Tayanna. She was getting bigger, more alert. In one photo, she was holding her head up and looking straight at the camera with these big eyes that looked exactly like Tayshawn's.
Maya: She's starting to smile more. I swear she knows when I'm talking about you
Me: Can't wait to meet her. Two more days
Maya: She's going to love you. I can already tell. Are you nervous?
Me: Yeah. What if I don't know how to hold her right or something?
Maya: You'll be fine. It's natural. Plus I'll be there to help
Me: How you doing though? For real
Maya: Good days and bad days. Some mornings I forget he's gone and I think about calling him. Then I remember and it hits all over again
Me: I'm sorry
Maya: Don't be sorry. You're doing what he would have wanted. Making something of yourself, staying out of trouble. He'd be so proud
That made my throat tight. I hoped she was right.
I sat there for a while, just thinking about everything. The fancy classes, the expensive campus, the kids who complained about problems that weren't really problems. The way Isabella looked at me like I was interesting instead of just some charity case. The pressure from coaches and teammates to prove I belonged here.
But underneath all the confusion and adjustment, I felt something I hadn't felt in a long time. Hope. Real hope that I could make something of myself here. That I could become the man Tayshawn always said I could be. That I could provide for my family and take care of Tayanna and make my parents proud.
The Jerry Rice system was helping with football, but the rest of it - the academics, the social stuff, figuring out how to fit in without losing myself - that was all on me.
JERRY RICE 2003 SEASON - Progress bar moved slightly
I could feel it working though. Not just the physical stuff, but the mental part too. The way I was reading defenses, understanding route concepts, anticipating what coaches wanted. It was like having twenty years of professional experience downloaded directly into my brain.
But sitting here in this fancy library, surrounded by books I'd never read and opportunities I'd never imagined, I realized the system could only do so much. The rest was up to me.
And for the first time since getting to California, I felt ready for that challenge.
I always figured shit out eventually. This wouldn't be any different.