The Scammer(12)

And even though I followed this agenda for the most part, any small deviation would send them reeling. They couldn’t understand why I would waste my time reading novels. Anything that wasn’t for educational purposes was considered trivial.

And this was all before Kevin. After . . . it only got worse. Because now all their hopes and dreams were stuffed into the shoulder pads of my uniform blazer, weighing me down. The pressure so severe, it made it impossible to eat.

At least, that’s what I tell myself.

I’m ten minutes late to Ethics, which sucks because attendance is part of my grade and I want to nail an A. Especially in front of Nick. There’s been a few times we sparred during class discussions and I never backed down. I played small in high school with white boys like him. I refuse to do that here.

Just as I reach the stairs, a tidal wave of students come flowing down, rushing out the building. I spot Nick in the crowd, heading for the doors.

“Hey what’s going on?” I ask, following, trying to keep the panic out of my voice.

“Classes are canceled,” he says without stopping. “School closing early due to the protest. Giving people a chance to get home before curfew.”

“Really?” I didn’t check the news before leaving. Too preoccupied with Devonte. “Are you going?”

He shakes his head. “No.”

I scoff. “Figures.”

He stops to face me. “No, I’m going to the police station. I’m a jail support volunteer. They’re going to be arresting hundreds of people and folks don’t know their rights. We remind them what to say and ask once inside. Try to catch people’s names and birth dates before they are bused away so we can track them in the system, then greet them when they’re free, with hot coffee or tea, anything they need.”

“Wow.” That’s something I would love to do. Something I never thought or heard of.

“You should go home, Bambi. It’s only going to get worse before the National Guard is called in.”

He doesn’t wait for my response and walks off.

In the lobby of Rock Hall, a group of students are dressed in all black, painting posters and signs . . . No Justice, No Peace!

Overnight, the protests exploded in Southeast, spilling farther into the city. The school buzzed with the news, resulting in the same question being tossed left and right. . . .

Are you going?

The truth is, I don’t know. My parents hate protests, think they are the biggest waste of time and energy. Both lawyers, they can’t wrap their head around breaking the law to prove a point in the name of justice. Living in the suburbs, we are always far from the fray. Now, I’m in the thick of it, locked inside the protected bubble of school, where students are planning to cut their way out, and I’m not sure if I should follow.

What would you do, Kevin, if you were here?

I stop to read another sign right before spotting Vanessa at the front door, rushing over with a grin.

“Girl! Thank GOD they canceled class! My ass did not study at all for that accounting quiz.” She stares into her phone, scrolling through messages, and I find myself wondering of all careers . . . why accounting?

She nods at a message. “Okay, cool. There’s a happy hour at this bar on V Street. I met a security guard who can slip us in.”

Some bars and lounges aren’t big on letting in underage students. Especially freshmen.

“You really want to go out tonight?” I ask, waving at the posters still drying by the windows.

“We’ll be fine! It’s all going down in Southeast and by the White House anyway. Nothing over here to be worried about. We’ll be home before curfew.”

I take a deep breath. “Is your brother coming?”

“Nah,” she says with a wink. “It’s ladies’ night!”



* * *




There is a thick unease in the air, as if the whole city is collectively holding their breath.

But at the bar, I watch Kammy flirt her way through two rum and Cokes. Feels like we’re partying on the edges of a war zone, with choppers flying overhead and black smoke billowing in the distance. Vanessa didn’t want to drive so we took a car service to the bar fifteen minutes from campus.

Loren grabs Kammy’s hand, dancing her closer to us and away from some guy who’s been in her ear all night.

“Aye, girl, don’t you have a man you’re all in love with,” Loren says with a laugh. “Not me out here trying to save your happy home!”

Kammy gives us a coy smile. “I do but . . .”

“But?” we all say at once.

Kammy gives us a sheepish grin, sliding a piece of hair behind her ear. “It’s nice feeling so, I don’t know . . . wanted. Nobody used to check for me like this back home. I’m not built like Vanessa and got the boys wrapped around her finger.”

Vanessa giggles. “HA! I wasn’t always this cute. Check this out.” She flips through her phone and pulls up a picture. In the photo is a young Vanessa grinning with braces and thick glasses, sitting in a cluttered living room. On the opposite side of the flowery sofa is Devonte, his expression stoic.

“That’s me, freshman year of high school. A hot mess! And that’s Devonte. He was just starting his locs. My dad HATED them.”