The Scammer(44)

“Oh. Okay. Thanks.”

“Are you . . . I mean, if there’s an emergency or issue, we’ll have to address it. But there will be an investigation. So do you think you want to change now, or do you think you can wait until spring?”

I nibble on my lip. On one hand, an investigation would be the quickest way to get rid of Devonte. But it would also cause friction when the girls find out it was me who raised the red flag. There must be another way to avoid that, to save them without them hating me.

“I think I can wait until spring,” I say with a confident nod.

She gives me a polite smile and her nervousness sparks a question in me.

“Has anyone from my suite . . . been by to ask the same thing?”

She shakes her head. A little too fast. “No, not that I know of.”

I can’t tell if she’s lying but I also can’t let on I suspect she is.

I paste on a smile. “Spring semester. Got it. Thanks for your help.”

She opens her mouth as if to ask something, but I’m already on my feet, rushing past the secretary, out into the main hallway, releasing the pent-up breath causing a fire in my lungs.

Outside the office, I lean against the wall, stomach queasy. This wasn’t a part of the plan. Where did I go wrong? Did I make a mistake coming here?

“Jordyn?”

Shit!

I whirl around and Kerry is walking down the hall, waving. “Hey girl.”

“Hey,” I croak out, relieved it’s not one of the girls. “What are you doing in here?”

She huffs. “Begging for more financial aid. Unless my mom can magically come up with some dough.” She glances at the sign above the door, and frowns with a laugh. “What are you doing in here?”

I stare into Kerry’s eyes, remembering her suspicions of Devonte from the very beginning, and can’t hold it in any longer.

“You may be right about Devonte. He is creepy.”

She wipes the smile off her face and steps closer. “What happened? Tell me.”

I don’t even know where to start.

“I just . . . got to get out of my room. He’s been . . . lying to us about stuff.”

Kerry nods, concern in her eyes, and I’m relieved to finally find someone who has seen Devonte for who he really is. Maybe she could help me convince the others.

She glances in both directions, as if worried we’ll be overheard.

“Were they able to find you another room?”

“No,” I groan. “There’s nothing available until spring semester.”

She holds my hand. “But what did you tell them? Did you tell them what was going on so that they’d move you?”

“No, not in so many words,” I admit.

Kerry shakes her head. “This is serious, Jordyn. You gotta be careful. You can’t fuck with your home life like that. Did you talk to the girls yet? You not about to leave them there, right?”

The thought of all the things the girls would go through, without me there, makes my stomach sink.

What if . . . what if . . . shit.

“Um, hey I have to go,” I mumble in a daze, rushing toward the exit.

“But Jordyn, what happened!”

A whistle comes up my throat as I burst through the door, running across campus, just for the air to hit my skin, cool it down. Fresh air fixes everything. I stop by a bench, parked right outside the football stadium, to catch my breath, my thoughts scrambling. Am I doing the right thing?

“Hey! Jordyn!”

I freeze at my name. Nick comes jogging out of a building near the sports center.

“Hey! I’ve been calling you,” he says, standing in front of me “Why haven’t you answered your phone?”

“How’d you get my number?”

“The FUSA directory. Are you okay?” he asks, his face serious.

He’s still thinking about the other night. I stifle my annoyance.

“Yes. I’m fine, I told you I—”

“Okay. Then, come with me.”

“What?”

“Come. With. Me,” he says, pulling at my arm.

Too exhausted to fight, I let him lead me away. We walk across the Quad into Webber Hall.

“What are we doing? Where are we going?”

Nick turns to me. “You said something the other day that raised a red flag. Look, just . . . keep an open mind.”

What is he talking about?

I follow Nick up two flights of stairs and down a busy stretch of classrooms until he stops at a door and knocks.

“Come in,” a voice calls from the other side.

Inside is a cozy corner office, with windows facing the Quad. The only areas not stacked floor to ceiling with books, papers, and African art.

A tall, dark-skinned older man wearing a baby-blue button-down shirt under his red and green dashiki stands in the middle of the room, glasses and textbook in hand.

“Hey Dr. Barnes,” Nick says.

“Nicolas!” he cheers, closing his book, giving me a curious glance. “To what do I owe the pleasure?”

“I want to introduce you to someone.” Nick pushes me toward a wooden seat facing a mahogany desk. “This is the student I was telling you about.”

His eyebrows shoot up. “Ohhh yes. Come in, young lady, have a seat.”