Jae was still up, his night-light shining bright on his nightstand, his nose stuck deep into his Calculus book. We had all been a little cranky over the past few days as we studied profusely for our final exams. High school students that had attended Harvard for the summer would soon be going home, back to life as we knew it—in less than a week. I was going to miss my roommates, especially Jae, my Korean friend who was now a master in Ebonics. He knew how to do the handshake that is only shared amongst brothers—African American brothers. His favorite phrase was “chillin’ chillin’,” and before long he was saying crazy stuff, like asking Chris, “What up, fool?” Jae had become a good friend, helping me with my studies and talking me through some difficult times. We stayed up half the night talking about my problems with Indigo one night, and I couldn’t count the number of times he’d vented about the girl he loved in Korea. He’d accepted the fact that he would never spend his life with her—she was promised to someone else—but he would never forget her.
