The Scammer(2)

Across the room are four doors, two facing the others, with a small bathroom between them.

Just as I’m about to enter room A, the door to room B opens and out pops a tall brown-skinned beauty queen, her hair in a puff crown.

“Ahhhh! You’re here!” She spins around, tapping on the other doors before enveloping me in a tight hug. “Hey y’all! She’s here!”

I freeze under her touch, stunned by the immediate affection of this familiar stranger. I have to tell myself to breathe so I can hug her back as naturally as possible.

In seconds, the other doors swing open. Two girls let out giggly screams. One dark-skinned, short and curvy, the other thin with honey copper skin.

Principle number five: Smile.

I widen my grin and hit them with my best “Heyyyyy!”

I spent the summer reading How to Win Friends and Influence People by Dale Carnegie, hoping it would turn me into a chameleon, soften my metal bones. Because that’s how you make friends . . . you have to be likable.

I stopped being likable so long ago that I didn’t think I could do it again. But here I am, peppering them with compliments.

“Your room looks great! Oh, I love your room too. You’re so pretty!”

Principle number two: Give honest, sincere appreciation.

Not one lie told. Just me putting on a show.

“Okay, wait wait wait. We need names, y’all!” The beauty queen says, “Hi, I’m Vanessa.”

“Loren,” the skinny one says while wrapping her braid up in a bun.

“Kammy,” the curvy one sings, hair hidden under a purple bonnet. “And OMG, you’re so pretty too!”

“What’s that smell?” I ask. “I don’t recognize it.”

Vanessa beams. “Frankincense and myrrh. My brother told me it’s the best for working on good vibes.”

“Nice,” I say, trying to keep my voice lighthearted.

I’ve always had a hard time fitting in. But I have to try. The last thing I want is college to be another version of high school.

Vanessa plays with my hair. “We thought you were never coming!”

“Yeah, we’ve been waiting forever,” Kammy adds. “What took you so long?”

I let out a nervous giggle. “You know. . . . life be lifeing.”

“Facts,” Loren agrees, and I notice her thick New York accent.

“Okay. I have the BEST idea,” Kammy sings. “How about we pregame tonight before heading to that welcome party.”

“Ooo, I love that!” Loren agrees.

“Aye, hold up,” Vanessa laughs. “Let’s let our girl get settled first. While she doing that, what am I going to wear!”

They file into Vanessa’s room, rummaging through her closet that almost seems to be busting at the seams.

I step aside with a smile and dig the key into the door of my new room. The space is narrow, with dark gray carpet and one long window that faces the front, so you can look down into the courtyard. The standard-issue wooden desk and twin bed look like they’ve been through a war or two and Vanessa’s incense does little to fix the dank scent. But it’s home and it’s mine.

I push my suitcases by the closet, open my phone, and text the parent chat.

Hi! Made it.



I slump on the unmade bed, noting how hard the mattress is, and wait. And wait. But there’s nothing. I know they’re not busy. It’s Saturday. All they’re doing is sitting in the den, watching golf or some documentary on PBS, phones within reach on the marble side table next to their lukewarm coffees. Black with three sugars. Probably already made their dinner reservation at the country club. No one knows my parents better than I do. Wish they could say the same about me.

Mom and I talked about decorating my dorm room for over a year. We wanted to raise the bed, string Christmas lights on the walls, hang pink curtains to match some throw pillows, maybe even add a furry rug. Now, the sight of the bed reminds me that I forgot to pack sheets. Not that I had much room for decor in my suitcase.

I open my backpack, taking out my laptop, chargers, and the few books I could fit. I clutch my journal, flipping through the last few pages. On the train ride, I managed to work on another short story. It helped the time pass, the longing and uncertainty fading. When I’m caught up in a story, I can ignore the world around me.

“I’m here, Kev,” I whisper aloud. “I’m actually here.”

My phone buzzes in my pocket and I scramble to snatch it up. It’s a message from Dad. A thumbs-up response to my text. I swallow the bitter disappointment with my head held high, as if they were here, watching me. I refuse to let them see me cry.



* * *




“Uh, is that what you’re wearing?”

My new roommates, gathered in the living room, crane their necks to look at me.

I glance down at my outfit, a simple white tank top over jeans, and a blazer. “What’s wrong with it? You said it was a house party, right?”

“Yeah but . . . ,” Kammy starts.

“It’s giving . . . stick up your ass,” Loren says with a laugh.

“Don’t you have some, like, cute earrings or something that shows a little skin?” Kammy suggests. Now without her bonnet, I see she has a brown twenty-four-inch wig with blond highlights.