The Scammer - 2

Vanessa parked down the block from a dark red row house on the corner in the Adams Morgan section of DC. The overflow of partygoers

hang outside, cups in hands. Music thumps out of the open windows.

Not many freshmen brought their cars to campus. Student Housing all but banned them, claiming there wasn’t much space in their

lots. So just like high school, having your own car wins instant popularity. And having a roommate with her own car is a major

plus.

“Whose party is this?” I ask, as we climb out of Vanessa’s brand-new green Jeep Wrangler.

“Some guy I met in the Rec yesterday invited me.” Vanessa grins. “He’s a junior.”

“So it’s gonna be a bunch of upperclassmen,” Kammy squeals, practically skipping through the gate, noticing red and white

Greek letters above the door.

It’s a frat house.

Inside smells heavy of spilled liquor, perfume, and sweat. The lights are dim, but it’s not dark enough that I can’t see the swell of students flooding the place. It isn’t like those old teen movies, with kids dancing and drinking. More like kids gathered in clumps around the living room, on the stairs, and in the kitchen toward the back. The DJ is set up in the corner near a boarded-up fireplace. Most of the boys are wearing red-and-cream jackets or T-shirts.

We huddle by a wall near the staircase, fixing our hair and makeup in our camera phones, pretending like we’re not. I’ve never

been to a party, much less a college party before. Out of my element, I can only dream up a fantasy.

“Okay, girls, be chill,” Loren instructs us. “It’s all about the way you carry yourselves. Like you belong. Fake it until

you make it.”

“What are we trying to make?” Kammy whispers, and I let out a giggle, the alcohol finally buzzing through my system.

“We just don’t want to come off like some corny-ass freshmen,” Loren warns, turning to me. “And thank GOD you’re all pretty

in person too. Can’t have no fugly girls in my crew.”

“Thanks? I guess,” I say with a chuckle.

“Do you have a man back home?” Vanessa asks, bumping me with her shoulder.

“No. I like to travel light.”

The girls laugh and I love the ringing sound to these practiced answers.

“What about friends?”

“Not really. I like to keep my circle small.” A perfect noncommittal answer.

“That’s exactly what my brother says.” Vanessa laughs. “Along with, ‘keep your friends close and your enemies closer.’”

I point at her with a laugh. “Exactly!”

“What enemies you talking abo—OMG! I love LOVE this song!” Kammy shouts, hand in the air, swinging her hips. Within seconds,

a few guys start to notice us.

“Yo! My brother was in the studio when they recorded this,” Vanessa says.

“What? Really?”

“Yeah! Nas and my brother are tight. His manager introduced him. He used to work in the hip-hop industry for a long time.

Knows a lot of rappers! Used to tour with them and everything.”

“That’s fire!” Loren exclaims.

Vanessa nods proudly, going on about her brother’s accomplishments. How he helped rappers with their albums, produced songs,

met with executives who still call him for advice to this day. I gaze down, realizing my fist has rolled into a ball. I want

to be able to talk about my brother that way, with the type of glowing pride that even the sun would be jealous of. He was

going to be a doctor. He was going to find a cure for the breast cancer that almost took our mom. He was going to be famous

one day. He was, he was, he was . . .

I look up, stunned to see a group of boys forming a semicircle around us. The tallest one has dark brown skin with tight black curly hair and a crooked smile. Unsure of what to do, I clutch my soda with two hands and smile.

“Kareem is from Baltimore, so not far,” Vanessa goes on to explain. I must have missed his introduction.

“Was your dad in your frat? I heard most of y’all are legacy,” Loren asks.

Kareem shakes his head. “Nah, he got locked up a while ago, along with my uncle. Doing dumb shit, you know. I’m the first

in my family to do the school thing.”

“That’s cool.”

His friend group is inspecting us with mischievous grins.

“So y’all live at the Rock?” one of them says. “So do we. You should stop by our spot and chill sometime.”

“Um, I got a man. Can’t be just chilling in some boy’s room.” Kammy hits them with a flirtatious smile. She has a man, but

she’s loving the attention.

“Ha! You’re definitely a freshman. Bet your man be gone by Thanksgiving. Maybe even Columbus Day.”

“Um, no we don’t celebrate that Colonizing Murderer,” Vanessa snaps.

“No, but we celebrate a three-day weekend!”

Vanessa lets a small smile leak through her outrage and the boys melt, their eyes roaming every inch of her. Standing next to Vanessa, I feel childlike in comparison. She has the body of a grown woman, with hips and curves; of course she would draw attention. Not to mention a smile that lights up her entire face. I wonder how long she’s been this beautiful and how much she’s gotten away with all her life.

“Hey,” Loren says, eyes on the rest of the party. “Who’s the white boy?”

Across the room, I spot him. Tall with broad shoulders, his long blond hair down to his chin, wearing a boyish grin. He’s

familiar in many ways, the type of boy I went to high school with. But I wasn’t expecting to see any of them here. I thought

I left that part of my life back in Connecticut.

“Oh, that’s White Boy Nick! He’s a Kappa.”

Kammy does a double take. “What?! He goes here?”

“And he’s in your fraternity?” Vanessa asks, a disgusted look crossing her face that she wipes clean before Kareem notices.

“Yeah. He’s a sophomore. Hey Nick!” Kareem waves him over. “He’s cool peoples, I’m telling you.”

Nick hears his name, his bright blue eyes scanning the four of us. As he makes his way over, I notice the other girls at the

party noticing him too. Not like when you spot a pink elephant in the room, but more like hungry lions eyeing their next meal.

“Um, he’s actually kinda cute,” Loren whispers in my ear. Vanessa gives him a once-over but doesn’t seem moved.

Kareem puts his arm around Nick’s neck. “Yo Frat, I want you to meet some new friends of mine.”

“New?” He chuckles, taking a sip of his drink. “Ohhh I see, so y’all are fresh meat!”

There’s a slight twang in his voice. Definitely from the south.

“Tell us what you think.” Kareem looks at Vanessa. “He’s good at reading folks.”

Nick taps his chin with a pensive squint.

“This one . . .” He points at Loren. “Reminds me of a Big Sis. Probably beat up a bunch of kids when she was little.”

Loren takes a small bow and the guys laugh.

“This one . . .” He points at Vanessa, winking at Kareem. “I don’t know, man, looks like Trouble.”

Vanessa rolls her eyes, but a smile breaks through.

“This one . . .” He points at Kammy. “Reminds me of sunshine. All sunshine and rainbows all the time. Loves to love.”

“Wow. You’re good,” Kammy giggles, twirling her hair.

“And this one . . . ,” he says, pointing at me with a devilish grin. “She reminds me of Bambi.”

“Bambi? Like Disney?” Kammy asks.

“Yeah, ’cause she has big gorgeous eyes and thick lashes, just like Bambi.”

The ladies look at me, impressed, and I drop my eyes to the ground, cheeks on fire. No one has ever said something like that

to me before.

“Plus, she looks like a deer in headlights, like most freshmen.”

The girls have a hard time holding in their giggles. A scowl takes over my face. I was used to being made fun of back home

by white guys. But I refuse to take it here, at the one place I should be safe from them.

“So, I guess you have a nickname too,” I spit, more than annoyed.

“You’re close. The name is Nick. Nice to meet you,” he says, offering his hand.

I roll my eyes. “Whatever.”

He laughs. “I was just joking with you.”

“Well, I don’t think your jokes are very funny. In fact, your whole presence is an insult.”

He blanches. “Whoa. What does that mean?”

“You’re clearly just some boy who’s taken an admissions spot from a Black kid who rightfully belongs here. You probably swindled

yourself a minority scholarship too. Typical white privilege behavior. Thinking that you have the right to go anywhere you

want, even if that makes people uncomfortable. You even had the audacity to join a Black fraternity. Clearly your fetishization

of Black culture has led you here but no matter how much rap music you listen to, or Black schools you go to, or fraternities

you join, you’ll never be one of us. So, for once in your life, maybe you should read the room.”

At first he just stood there, frozen stiff. Then his eyes narrow.

He steps closer, as if to scare me. But I raise my chin and meet his glare. We stand facing off, two boxers in the ring for

what felt like hours. Finally, he scoffs.

“You don’t know a thing about me.” The words come out low and covered in ice.

And with that, he breezes by, disappearing into the crowd.

Kareem shakes his head. “Damn, that was cold-blooded.”

“Yeah, take it easy!” another one of the guys adds. “Nick’s a cool dude! He’s always invited to the cookout!”

Pulse racing, I keep my eyes on my cup. That was so stupid.Showing anger like that, and this early, turns people off and that’s

not part of the plan. They probably think I’m an uppity tight-ass now. Or worse. Back home, my old classmates would roll their

eyes.

“There she goes again, making everything about race.”

Why couldn’t I just keep my mouth shut?

But when I turn to the girls, they’re beaming.

“My girl read that man for filth,” Loren laughs.

Kammy cheers my cup. “I know that’s right!”

A rush of relief and love fills my chest.

Vanessa lurches forward and grabs my wrists with a mischievous grin. “You are gonna LOVE my brother!”

“After convincing him I was Beyoncé’s cousin and crying my eyes out about missing my flight, he let me go. My brother almost

had a heart attack. And that is how I got out of my first speeding ticket.”

The next night, we four girls laugh over our giant pepperoni pizza slices and cans of Sprite, laid out in our cozy living room, rocking pajamas and face masks. Vanessa’s going over her wild LA driving tales. We talk about everything, from movies to first celebrity crushes, the convos flowing like we’ve been friends for years rather than a few days. I had very few friends . . . before Kevin. But, if I was honest, I felt more like a token piece, someone they could point to and say, “I’m not racist! See! My friend is Black.” Being the lone Black girl in the room always brought its own set of issues when I’m not busy dodging microaggressions or blatant racist questions. Here, it all feels so natural, so . . . safe. Is this what I’ve been missing in my life?

Kammy finishes pin curling her wig and hugs her knees. “Guys . . . tomorrow’s it. First day of classes!”

“Anything I should know?” I ask. “I haven’t even taken a tour around campus yet.”

Between the last-minute decision to attend and battling my parents, I missed most of freshman orientation. Our RA gave me

a crash course of the map in her room but wasn’t much help past that.

Vanessa stuffs her pizza crust in her mouth. “Alright, here are the main things I’ve picked up: First, the cafeteria food

is garbage. Absolute trash!”

“I heard the best time to go is dinner,” Loren adds. “That’s when the athletes meet up. But if the café is crazy bad, then

we’re better off just snacking here.”

“Number two,” Vanessa continues. “Everybody chills in the Rec, that’s in the basement of the Malcolm Center. They serve mostly

burgers, fries—”

“Mozzarella sticks,” Kammy adds. “YUM!”

“But! They don’t take dining dollars. Only cash.”

I deflate a bit. Don’t have much cash to burn on burgers. I already blew through about half of the graduation money my grandparents gifted, so I need to be smart about the rest. I’ll have to skip the Rec as much as possible.

“The Malcolm Center is where all the clubs and stuff meet too. Three, which you kinda found out last night, the Kappas run

this school so try not to piss them off. They throw the best parties.”

“Got it,” I mumble, still reeling over my exchange with the lone white boy on campus. So much for not attracting attention.

As if reading my mind, Loren pats my shoulder. “Girl, you straight. By next week, no one’s gonna remember you. You ate him

up though!”

The girls giggle and I bury my head into my hands.

Loren slaps my arm. “I’m messing with you! Anyways, we got classes in the same building so you can just follow me tomorrow.”

“Thanks,” I say. Loren has a way of putting people at ease quick. She must have so much practice with all her brothers and

sisters.

Vanessa sits up on her knees. “Yo, do you realize that when we graduate from here, we’re gonna be Frazier alums? That carries

some serious weight.”

Loren stretches out. “Right! I’ve always wanted to come to Frazier U. I have an auntie who went here who told me all about

homecoming. They’re legendary. This was my first choice and I got in, early decision!”

“Girl, I couldn’t believe I got in. My grades are . . . special,” Vanessa says, wide-eyed, and we giggle. “But my brother says it’s straight up THE best HBCU to go to. When he was touring with Hit Makers, they said our campus had some of the best parties and finest women. This place is full of Black excellence!”

Kammy squishes a cheek to her knee, gushing. “My parents came and fell in love here. I’m a legacy baby.”

“Aww that’s so cute,” Loren says. “Maybe I’ll meet my hus-bae here. What about you, Jordyn?”

I shrug. “I always wanted to come here. Plus, I went to private school with nothing but white people so I was definitely looking

for a change. And who knows, maybe I’ll meet my husband here too.” Two truths and a believable lie. Not the worst.

The girls nod in agreement.

“My aunt is still best friends with her college roommates. They go on all kinds of girls’ trips together.”

“Hey! That’s gonna be us,” Kammy says, hugging up Loren. “We’re gonna be sisters for life now!”

“Facts,” Loren agrees.

I take in their glowing faces one at a time, full of hope and love.

Yes, sisters. What I always wanted.

I stand up, heading for the kitchen. “Anyone want any tea?”

“Tea? Girl, what?” Loren laughs.

“Yeah,” I laugh, giving a sheepish shrug. “I can’t go to bed without having some tea.”

“Sounds like my brother.” Vanessa laughs. “He loves his tea too.”