The Scammer - 6

Kammy, Loren, and I giggle over the lone mirror in the bathroom with the terrible lighting, doing our makeup and hair, while

Vanessa tries on various outfits in her room.

“Ugh! I have nothing to wear!” Vanessa pouts over the music. “I knew I should’ve went to the mall this week.”

“My nails look a mess,” I say, swiping extra coats of mascara over my lashes.

“I’ll do them tomorrow before the game!” Vanessa yells from the other room. “Don’t worry about it.”

I glance at Kammy, grinning, and she lets out a laugh.

“Yes girl, I’ll do your hair on Sunday!”

“After you all finish helping me take out these braids,” Loren warns. “With three people, it’ll take maybe two hours tops.

We can watch Love Island !”

For some reason, tonight feels special, like we’re back to our regularly scheduled program. Probably because Devonte has been gone all afternoon and it’s homecoming. Legendary parties are happening all around the city and the whole dorm is buzzing. The mini concert on the Quad was like a fashion show. Tomorrow is the big game and Loren was able to score us some tickets. But tonight, we’re heading to the Kappa party at their frat house.

Nick will be there. As much as I say I don’t want to think about him, I definitely don’t want to make a fool out of myself.

Again.

I can’t stop smiling as we doll ourselves up, like a girls’ night straight out of the movies, what I’ve watched on hundreds

of social media posts with brutal envy. Only a few short months ago I didn’t have any of this. The love, the friendship . . .

it’s everything I’ve ever wanted.

Music plays out of Vanessa’s room, mugs are set up for shots. Everyone is in the best mood . . . until we hear the front door

open.

Devonte strolls in, standing in the middle of the room. He takes us in one by one, his face expressionless.

“Where are you going?” he says, his voice no louder than usual but still filling us with dread.

Loren and I exchange a glance in the mirror.

Vanessa turns down the music, giving him an easy breezy smile. “Uhhh . . . the Kappas are having a party tonight. But you

probably don’t want to come and see all the ratchetness, right? What d’you think?”

“I think you should stay home,” he says plainly. “All of you.”

Kammy slowly puts her eyebrow pencil down on the sink. She takes a deep breath and steps out of the bathroom.

“But it’s a Kappa party,” she says, as if it should mean something to him.

His face doesn’t change. It reeks of disappointment.

“Devonte, we’re freshmen,” Vanessa starts, slowly entering a lion’s den. “This is supposed to be the time of our lives.”

He sighs. “Well. I guess I was wrong about y’all. I thought y’all were different. Maybe I’m wasting my time trying to teach

you the truth.”

Kammy twists her fingers. Loren looks to me and I don’t know what to say.

“Devonte,” Loren pleads. “We love everything you’ve taught us. We just hoping to have a little fun, that’s all.”

“How can you think of ‘fun’ when there’s thousands of innocent Black men in prison and families being torn apart. Do you really

want to contribute to the capitalist machine and fill the white man’s pockets? None of the money that will be made this weekend

will go to the people in need.”

He shrugs, not meeting our eyes, seeming wounded.

“But I’ll respect your wishes. Whatever you do is up to you. But if you really loved me, you wouldn’t go out tonight.”

The words hang in the air like a threat.

He glances at Loren. “And are you sure you want to go out, dressed like that?”

The light fades from Loren’s eyes. I want to step across the room and hug her, but I’m afraid it would come across as pity.

“If fun is all you care about, then go. Drink the white man’s liquor. But remember it came from a store that was specifically

put in the hood, infiltrating our community to keep us from knowing the truth about ourselves. To keep us from succeeding.”

He shakes his head. “After all I’ve done for you, taught you. This whole weekend is another trap by the system. And this time,

I won’t be able to save you.”

Vanessa looks at us, her lips pressed in a hard line. We stand frozen, waiting for someone to make the first move. Finally,

Vanessa nods toward the sofa.

Loren sighs. She shuffles her feet and sits on the very end, Vanessa plopping down next to her. Kammy blinks, unable to contain

her shock, but she too moves in its direction. She looks back at me and I don’t know what to do.

Devonte stands up straight, the light of the bathroom behind me highlighting the youthfulness in his skin.

“How will you rewrite history, Jordyn,” he says in a low voice, “if you’re outside with the masses who don’t want to learn

it?”

I glance at the girls on the sofa, sitting there sullen and shamed . . . and confused. Are we really going to just skip homecoming?

Principle number ten: The only way to get the best of an argument is to avoid it.

I give him a wide smile. “You’re right. Of course you’re right. I’m sorry.”

Loren takes a deep breath. “Okay, so what should we do instead?”

Devonte gives us an approving nod. “I think it’s time we open up your minds.”

Loren’s candles flicker on the coffee table, casting shadows on the walls. As drumming music hums out of Vanessa’s speaker,

Devonte doles out a special mix of tea.

“This is powerful, powerful stuff. Once you have it, you should lay down immediately on the floor, let the effects take you.

Surrender to them.”

Loren and Vanessa slurp up their tea immediately. Kammy winces through her sips. I stare at the brown-reddish water with a

sickening feeling.

“What is it?” I ask.

Devonte shakes his head with a smirk. “Always a curious one. It’s a powerful medicine that will clear the clogged-up thoughts

in your mind.”

As I gather his meaning, my neck tenses. “We’ll be high?”

“High is too basic of a word. It’s transformative. Don’t worry. I studied with a great shaman in Mexico. I’ll be here to guide

you through your fears. Trust me, I’ve been able to help Loren, haven’t I?”

I look at Loren, who’s already lying on the floor, her smile full of content.

This is not a part of the plan, my mind screams. This is dangerous, this is how you’ll get burned. But if I don’t walk through the fire, how will I gain the girls’ trust? His trust? How will I be one with them?

“Can I add some sugar to this?” Kammy whines. “It tastes nasty!”

With his back turned to reassure her, I quickly pour half of the cup into the corner of the sofa and shoot back the rest.

It tastes like a mix of coffee and wood, bitter and mud-like. I have to take several deep breaths to keep from gagging.

Devonte smiles proudly, taking my empty cup. “Lay down and close your eyes.”

I do. And within minutes I’m awake.

But I’m not on the floor of my suite. I’m in my bed. The pure white walls of my room glow in a haze. I cuddle the fluffy lavender

down comforter, the color matching my curtains, throw pillows, the bench at my vanity next to my walk-in closet. A whistle

rings through the air.

That’s my teapot. . . .

My toes grip the plush rug as I rush into the hall, down the grand stairwell, wind flowing through my satin pink pajamas.

I walk into the kitchen and . . . there he is. Wearing that orange sweater with the teddy bear I bought him for Christmas.

He looks at me, teacup in his hand, and smiles.

He left me. He left me. He left me.

“No,” I gasp, squeezing my eyes, and deep, dark river water takes me under, until I come up for air, arms flapping, reaching for anything to hold on to. I open my eyes and I’m back in the suite, ears clogged with screams.

I turn toward the noise. Kammy is keeling over on all fours, a mumbling, bumbling mess. Devonte is beside her, whispering

into her ear. But I can’t catch a single word. The suite is sitting on a ship in the middle of the ocean, rocking back and

forth.

No, don’t , I want to scream but the words are trapped.

Across the room, Loren jerks, as if something knifed through her, her face glazed with tears and sweat. She rolls to her side

and vomits up flowers; the room reeks of its stench.

Then, there’s Vanessa, sleeping soundly. Or is she dead? I’m not sure.

I try to peel myself off the floor until I hear my name miles away.

“What does perfect mean to you, Jordyn?”

I arch my neck up, and there’s Devonte, hunched over me, eyes twinkling.

“What?” I croak out.

“Seems like you’re chasing this illusion of perfection when in reality that doesn’t exist,” he coos, every word vibrating.

“What would happen if I said you could let go?”

Blaring alarm bells go off inside me but my legs won’t cooperate. He’s trying to unearth emotions I long since put in the

ground and had a funeral for. I look at the door, my trembling lips shout the word “help” but no sound comes out.

Please help us! The man is dangerous.

Devonte stoops closer to me. “Your parents abused you, Jordyn.”

I shake my head, the motion causing the room to rock harder. I’m falling off my balance beam, the floor hundreds of stories

down.

“No, no, they didn’t,” I croak, voice covered in slime and glue. He knows nothing about my parents. I made sure of that.

Didn’t I?

“Yes! They did,” he insists, his voice like massive church bells. “Mentally, maybe even physically. All they’ve done is try

to force you to be who they want you to be. To them, you’re nothing but a doll, a plaything, a puppet, and they’re your masters.

It’s very clear they abused you. The damage, the trauma has blocked your memories, and you are hiding them behind your perfection.

They probably told you what to eat, what to drink, what to wear . . .”

“Don’t listen to them, JoJo, you’re not fat!”

My eyes strain to pop out and roll across the floor. Or at least they feel like they do.

That wasn’t him? It couldn’t be him. He’s dead.

He left me. He left me. He left me.

The floor is burning, we’re lying on top of radiators, my skin is covered in lava.

“Please, no,” I beg.

“What are you hiding, Jordyn?” he whispers, petting my head. “You can tell me.”

I can’t feel my face. My stomach is full of lava. Someone is screaming. That someone is me. The sob I’ve been holding back, maybe for years, comes busting through the dam.

“He left me! He left me! He left me! How could he leave me!”

“Who left you, Jordyn? Your father? Did your father leave you after he assaulted you? It’s okay, Jordyn, let it out!”

I shake my head, the room spinning. I can’t say his name, won’t say his name, I can’t bear it. The rage inside me is still

in control. And no drugs can penetrate it. No therapist, no specialist. I tried them all. So I just nod, giving Devonte whatever

he wants. Hoping that person who caused the pain can take it away. But I want to claw the skin off his face, I want to rip

out his tongue. I want to . . .

“I hate you! I hate you!” I scream, snapping like a rabid dog at his fingers, ready to kill him!

“Yes, that’s it! Let it out,” Devonte says, rubbing my back. “You hate your parents. You hate what they’ve done to you. Yes!”

Then it hits, the vomit racing up my throat like exploding lava. Purging my guts, I can taste his name on my tongue, but never

let it hit the air.

“You see that white cloudy line that plane is making in the sky?”

Outside the Rock, we gathered in the empty courtyard in our sweaty, sticky clothes, too weak to change or wipe the mascara off our cheeks. Most of the dorm is up at the stadium, cheering on our football team for the homecoming game, which makes me realize I missed the parade and all the hard work on the float.

No one is around to see our disheveled state. But I also feel . . . lighter. The heaviness I carried, the anxiety, the guilt . . .

all replaced with a sudden burst of cool, refreshing air.

Devonte points and we all look up at a plane flying overhead, a plume of white trailing behind it.

“That’s them chemtrails. The government been releasing toxins in the atmosphere, spraying our communities, causing death,

mind control, even sterilization. See how we haven’t been seeing it.”

Kammy lets out a horrified gasp.

Vanessa stares up in bewilderment. “How can you just . . . stand out here and take it? How can you let us stand out here!”

“’Cause I’ve been infusing your food with nutrients that act as a shield against it,” Devonte says.

Loren’s face is sweaty, palms clammy. I think she’s sick but won’t admit it. I’m too sluggish to help her.

“I want to go back in,” she says in a shaky voice. “I don’t want to be out here.”

Devonte moves us toward the door. “I keep telling you, we are in the middle of biological warfare. That’s what I was protecting

you from this weekend. Trying to keep you safe. See how they wait until this weekend, homecoming weekend, where thousands

of brothers and sisters would be, to drop that shit, spray us like bugs.”

Vanessa grabs Kammy’s arm, rushing back inside, but moving in slow motion.

In the distance, I hear the crowd at the stadium cheer. Devonte hears it too, head motioning toward the sound. The effects

of the tea still lingering, his smile seems to be splitting his face open like a melon.

This isn’t right, something inside me says. This isn’t you.

But I ignore it. I have to. Because Vanessa promised to do my nails. And Kammy my hair. And Loren eats with me in the café

so I’m not alone. And Devonte needed us all to be a family.

How addicting it is to be a part of something that’s more than you.