The Scammer(5)

“And he’s in your fraternity?” Vanessa asks, a disgusted look crossing her face that she wipes clean before Kareem notices.

“Yeah. He’s a sophomore. Hey Nick!” Kareem waves him over. “He’s cool peoples, I’m telling you.”

Nick hears his name, his bright blue eyes scanning the four of us. As he makes his way over, I notice the other girls at the party noticing him too. Not like when you spot a pink elephant in the room, but more like hungry lions eyeing their next meal.

“Um, he’s actually kinda cute,” Loren whispers in my ear. Vanessa gives him a once-over but doesn’t seem moved.

Kareem puts his arm around Nick’s neck. “Yo Frat, I want you to meet some new friends of mine.”

“New?” He chuckles, taking a sip of his drink. “Ohhh I see, so y’all are fresh meat!”

There’s a slight twang in his voice. Definitely from the south.

“Tell us what you think.” Kareem looks at Vanessa. “He’s good at reading folks.”

Nick taps his chin with a pensive squint.

“This one . . .” He points at Loren. “Reminds me of a Big Sis. Probably beat up a bunch of kids when she was little.”

Loren takes a small bow and the guys laugh.

“This one . . .” He points at Vanessa, winking at Kareem. “I don’t know, man, looks like Trouble.”

Vanessa rolls her eyes, but a smile breaks through.

“This one . . .” He points at Kammy. “Reminds me of sunshine. All sunshine and rainbows all the time. Loves to love.”

“Wow. You’re good,” Kammy giggles, twirling her hair.

“And this one . . . ,” he says, pointing at me with a devilish grin. “She reminds me of Bambi.”

“Bambi? Like Disney?” Kammy asks.

“Yeah, ’cause she has big gorgeous eyes and thick lashes, just like Bambi.”

The ladies look at me, impressed, and I drop my eyes to the ground, cheeks on fire. No one has ever said something like that to me before.

“Plus, she looks like a deer in headlights, like most freshmen.”

The girls have a hard time holding in their giggles. A scowl takes over my face. I was used to being made fun of back home by white guys. But I refuse to take it here, at the one place I should be safe from them.

“So, I guess you have a nickname too,” I spit, more than annoyed.

“You’re close. The name is Nick. Nice to meet you,” he says, offering his hand.

I roll my eyes. “Whatever.”

He laughs. “I was just joking with you.”

“Well, I don’t think your jokes are very funny. In fact, your whole presence is an insult.”

He blanches. “Whoa. What does that mean?”

“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.”

At first he just stood there, frozen stiff. Then his eyes narrow.

He steps closer, as if to scare me. But I raise my chin and meet his glare. We stand facing off, two boxers in the ring for what felt like hours. Finally, he scoffs.

“You don’t know a thing about me.” The words come out low and covered in ice.

And with that, he breezes by, disappearing into the crowd.

Kareem shakes his head. “Damn, that was cold-blooded.”

“Yeah, take it easy!” another one of the guys adds. “Nick’s a cool dude! He’s always invited to the cookout!”

Pulse racing, I keep my eyes on my cup. That was so stupid.Showing anger like that, and this early, turns people off and that’s not part of the plan. They probably think I’m an uppity tight-ass now. Or worse. Back home, my old classmates would roll their eyes.

“There she goes again, making everything about race.”

Why couldn’t I just keep my mouth shut?

But when I turn to the girls, they’re beaming.

“My girl read that man for filth,” Loren laughs.

Kammy cheers my cup. “I know that’s right!”

A rush of relief and love fills my chest.

Vanessa lurches forward and grabs my wrists with a mischievous grin. “You are gonna LOVE my brother!”



* * *




“After convincing him I was Beyoncé’s cousin and crying my eyes out about missing my flight, he let me go. My brother almost had a heart attack. And that is how I got out of my first speeding ticket.”

The next night, we four girls laugh over our giant pepperoni pizza slices and cans of Sprite, laid out in our cozy living room, rocking pajamas and face masks. Vanessa’s going over her wild LA driving tales. We talk about everything, from movies to first celebrity crushes, the convos flowing like we’ve been friends for years rather than a few days. I had very few friends . . . before Kevin. But, if I was honest, I felt more like a token piece, someone they could point to and say, “I’m not racist! See! My friend is Black.” 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?