The Scammer

by Tiffany D. Jackson

Through all the college preparation—the SAT courses, applications, essays, GPA fights, and interviews—no one ever mentioned how you had to fit your entire life into two suitcases and a duffel bag.

No fr

“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.”

Oop😂😂😂

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

😭😭😭

“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.”

Oop girl. Dramatic much

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?

You pull this last-minute stunt to go to that ghetto school when we’ve been planning for YEARS to go to Yale.

Ghetto??

I was framed, sis. Like most Black men.” I nod. “I see.”

Hmm

“Who taught you the Bible? Who taught you to fear God? Who taught you to forgive?” “Well . . . white people,” Vanessa says,

White people ain’t teach me that!

“You slept with him.” His voice calm yet lethal. It renders me momentarily speechless. Nerves making my teeth chatter, like a bunch of marbles in my mouth. “N-n-n-no,” I manage to croak out. “No?” He chuckles. “You really plan to stand there and lie?”

And if she did????

“You’ve been having lustful thoughts about him, haven’t you,” he says, his tone buttery soft. “And now they’re forcing you to lie.”

???

“Friends don’t abandon each other,” he sighs.

“Here! Eat like a sheep,” he barks, tossing the corn across the floor. “Get down there and eat like a sheep!” We stand in silence. Devonte clicks his tongue. “Woman, don’t make me repeat myself. Get on the floor NOW!”

???? Ummmm

Devonte said the herbs he mixes in our teas should help increase our energy but some days I can barely make it up the hill to class.

That man posioning yall

Yet it’s starting to feel like we’re a family of Black dolls propped up, collected, manipulated, and I can’t seem to stand the idea of cutting the strings that bind us to our puppet master.

Def yall puppet master

“Menstruation is an abnormal condition for Black women. You weren’t meant to hemorrhage the same time every month. Menstruation is a product of enslavement.

Oh brother

I didn’t mention Devonte. Mentioning him would only have brought more heat to a situation I need to handle with minimal attention.

And you dumb as hell!

David Saunders . . . suspect in the murder of a nineteen-year-old college student.

Omgggg

“A girl went MISSING and was eventually found, beaten to death. They didn’t have enough evidence to prosecute him.”

“He CHANGED his name! This is REAL, Loren! There’s a case number! You have to believe me. I wouldn’t lie about this.” Loren wiggles out of my hold, glaring at me. “Stop,” she says, her voice cracking. “Jordyn. Just . . . stop.”

Delusional!

“You left me,” I mumble to the floor, tears swelling. “You were all I had.” “I know,” he admits, sliding the mug across the counter. “But you have to let me go now. Or else.” I shake my head and take a sip of tea.

“‘Lions are not concerned with the opinions of sheep.’”

“Love, you must practice patience. We just need to tie up a few things here. Then we’ll go. Just you and me.”

Who gives up Yale for a Black school?

“I haven’t met any girlfriend. I only know his sister, Vanessa.” There’s a brief pause on the other end. “That’s not his sister.” The world goes silent as the floor drops from beneath me. “What?”

Oh wow!!!

“Her name is Shameeka Foster. She goes by Vanessa, or Nessa, sometimes. She’s thirty-two years old but doesn’t look it. They’ve been together pulling this shit since they were sixteen.”

Wowzers

“Anger always results in sloppiness.”

“He’s my brother.” She said that so many times. I gag, covering my mouth to stop the threatening vomit.

Hearing my last name didn’t ring any bells? Or maybe you just fucked over SO many Kevins that you forgot? Just another drop in the bucket.”

“‘Lions are not concerned with the opinions of sheep.’ That’s the line your stupid brother swore he made up when he just stole it from a TV show. Game of Thrones. Ever heard of it? It was a show my brother knew by heart. That’s how he figured out you two were full of bullshit. Oh, I’m sorry. Not your brother. Your BOYFRIEND!”

Checkmate!

For any real justice to be had, I had to find a new victim that would be willing to testify. That’s when the plan started to build in my head. Wherever Vanessa would go, Devonte would follow. All I had to do was track her down. Kevin’s friends mentioned her talking nonstop about hoping to go to Frazier. When I found the mug in Kevin’s belongings, I knew that’s where she’d end up.

The last part was the most difficult. Contacting the head of Student Housing, Ms. Rogers, to make sure I was room-matched with Vanessa. Buying her cooperation and silence cost ten thousand dollars. But it was worth it.

“That’s how you are taken advantage of. Appearing like easy prey instead of a worthy adversary.”

I want to believe that Kammy is still alive, somewhere. That Legacy is just back home with his family and lost his phone. But Vanessa refuses to talk and Devonte is out there, floundering without her helping to plan their next score. I don’t know what the future holds for Nick and me once he learns the truth. But there’s one thing I know for sure: Kevin would have loved it here.