The Scammer(16)

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Two hundred and fifty people were arrested over the course of a few nights. The protesters simmered as pastors and community members bound together to restore order. Classes were back in session. And as the world returned to normal, I realized my parents didn’t call once. Not to check on me or make sure I was safe. They’d never dream of their daughter being involved in the melee. That’s not who they raised. We were to be apolitical. They didn’t want us to be confused with Black people who did nothing but complain rather than pull themselves up by their bootstraps. If people were struggling, it was their own fault.

After dinner in the café, Loren and I decide to head to the library. With Devonte’s visit came many nights of no studying and papers waiting until the last minute. I even skipped a few morning classes when my bed felt too comfortable to abandon. Back home, my mother would’ve been on my neck, pestering me to the point that I would rather sleep outside in a freezing car than inside my own home.

We pick a table in the old stacks, books, papers, and tablets spread out like a feast, our heads down and hyper focused. About an hour in, Loren yeets a pen at her laptop.

“If I fail this class, I’m going to lose my merit scholarship and will end up scrubbing toilets at the Holiday Inn.”

I laugh. “Dramatic much?”

She smiles. “I’m not like you. You’re smart, probably will graduate with honors and a job already lined up. The entertainment industry is cutthroat. It’s all about who you know. And Frazier is the best place to make those kinds of connections. But I gotta stay in school to make that happen.”

Principle number two: Give honest, sincere appreciation.

“But you’re really pretty! And brilliant. You can do anything!”

“Thanks, girl.” She sighs and drums her nails. “Sooo . . . Devonte’s pretty cool, huh?”

I raise an eyebrow at her and she laughs.

“Ew! Don’t get it twisted. I’m not into him like that!”

I would hope not. Then again, he is extremely good-looking. Charming in a way that’s not overbearing or gross. Starting to understand how anyone could fall for his spell.

Principle number four: Become genuinely interested in other people.

“Well, what do you like about him?” I ask.

“I don’t know. He just knows so much. Yesterday, we were talking about how scientists used to do all these crazy experimental surgeries on Black people with no pain medication. They were stealing people’s organs and stuff!”

I blink. “You were? When was this?”

“I wasn’t feeling well yesterday so I skipped class and went back to my room. Devonte was there. He made me some tea and we talked for like four hours straight.”

“Oh,” I say, trying to ignore the feeling that I have been sucker punched in the spleen. She’s had time alone with him that I didn’t know about. Things are happening behind my back, and she didn’t tell me. What else have I been missing?

Loren goes on, unaware of my unraveling. “You ever hear about Henrietta Lacks? They stole tissue samples from her arm and made all these vaccines, earning millions yet never gave her family a dime.”

“What? Seriously?”

“Yeah! And the Tuskegee experiment, how they injected all them Black people with syphilis just to watch them die!”

I swallow. “Well, they didn’t inject them with syphilis. They already had it and withheld treatment.”

“Who knows if that’s even true tho!”

But I do know. I read science papers about it. Still, I hold my tongue.

Loren shakes her head. “It’s amazing how much they don’t teach us in school. But Devonte, he’s been spitting some facts. It’s like everything he says . . . makes perfect sense, you know? He’s been giving us the real tea, the background, telling us things we should’ve known!”

“That’s true,” I agree.

“But you know what I really like about him.” She leans closer, elbows on the table. “He doesn’t talk down or at us like we’re some little kids. He talks to us like we’re his equals. And for a guy who’s been around the world and did all these amazing things . . . it’s mad cool, knowing we’re not just some whack-ass freshmen to him.”

I smile at her. “Facts.”

“Well. What do you like about him?” she asks, eyes roaming my face. The question feels off. Like it’s not hers to ask.

I keep my voice light. “Uh, just like you said, he talks to us like we’re real adults.”

She brightens. “Right . . . like, what did your parents tell you before you left for school?”

I shrug since my parents didn’t say one word to me when I left. They didn’t even offer to drop me off at the train station.

She chuckles. “All mine said was, ‘Don’t get pregnant.’ At least that’s all I remember them beating in my head. Nothing about how the world works. There is too many of us for them to pay any kind of real attention to me. They would get mad aggravated when I used to get sick that I would just hide it from them. Meanwhile, Devonte is schooling us on life without making us feel stupid or we’re a . . . a . . .”

“A burden?”

“Yeah, that. He keeps it real. And I guess, I appreciate that. So when I do make it big, no one can try to play in my face. I’ll know what’s up from jump. I don’t got to rely on anybody.”