The Scammer(74)

Tell her!

Telling her about Devonte may bring me more unwanted attention, more rumors. But if Kammy is really missing, then she should know what’s been happening here and what Devonte has done.

At that very moment, Loren hobbles into the suite. Her eyes toggle between us.

“Who are you?” she says to Nina, her voice scratchy.

Nina takes a step back, the sight of her languid movements startling.

“Uh, I’m Kammy’s sister, Nina. Have you seen her?”

Loren takes a step forward, her sweater inching up enough for me to see a hospital band on her wrist.

Loren catches my gaze and straightens her sleeves with a shrug. “Yeah. She said she was taking the bus home for Thanksgiving.”

“The bus?!” Nina exclaims, her eyes wide. “My sister would never catch the bus!”

Loren shrugs. “Maybe you don’t know your sister like you thought.”

The words make my mouth drop.

Nina narrows her eyes at us. She points a finger. “You’re lying. You’re both fucking lying!”

She slings her purse on her shoulder and storms out of the room. Loren watches and collapses against the wall, as if she can’t hold herself up anymore.

I run to her side. “Loren! Are you okay?”

She snatches her hand away. “Get off me, Bed Wench.”

I shoot up, stunned.

“Lo, come on! You’re sick. When’s the last time you ate something?”

Loren ignores me, limping into the living room. She doesn’t have a bag on her. Did she stay here the entire holiday?

“Nina’s going to go to the police,” I say. “That’s gonna bring some attention on us, on Devonte. He wouldn’t want that, right?”

Loren nods in agreement.

“So where is Kammy?”

Loren slumps over to the love seat, eyes searching the floor, as if trying hard to remember.

“I don’t know,” she admits out loud. “Our Lord said she went to the bus station.”

“Our Lord?”

“Devonte. That’s what he wants us to call him. He’s given up his earthly name for a title that fits his calling.”

I bite my lip to keep from screaming. I would have never imagined Loren agreeing to uttering something so idiotic. Maybe I don’t know her, just like Nina has proven that I don’t know Kammy. Then again, they don’t know me either.

Anxious for space, I head toward my room.

“How’s Legacy?” she snaps at my back.

“Huh? How should I know.”

She rolls her eyes. “Don’t act all innocent. Our Lord said he saw you two together. How long have you been hooking up with him behind my back!”

“He’s lying! I haven’t seen Legacy since . . . since . . .”

Now that I think about it, I can’t remember the last time I saw Legacy. The last time I even heard his name, Kammy was asking about him. Are they BOTH missing?

Suddenly, my throat constricts, a rubber band snapping around my tongue. I rush into the bathroom and heave up Anita’s pie. But that still does nothing to tame my fear.

I have to get out of here.





Twenty-Eight




Exams are coming up. And if I don’t ace every single one, I’ll be one step closer to academic probation and two steps closer to being back in Connecticut. Despite all my strategies and explanations, my parents do not play when it comes to academics. So, I go old school, making flash cards and charts just to memorize terms. My parents aren’t checking in, but they’ll be sure to check my grades at the end of the semester. I want to show them that this school is just as academically challenging as Yale. But Devonte takes up so much space in my mind. The arguments I have with myself over him are not only time-consuming but humiliating.

I live in the library now, spending as little time as possible at the dorm.

Just as I’m making a dent in my flash card pile, Nick walks in. He’s hard to miss.

We catch eyes and he stops gripping the strap of his messenger bag. It’s been days since we last talked or seen each other. My mouth opens and shuts.

He’s a stranger. Always has been.

I snap my computer closed, pack, and rush out of the library, brushing by him without a word. I’ll finish up in my room.

There are two police cars parked in front of Rock Hall. I don’t think much about it as I take the elevator up. But when I step off on my floor and head to the suite, I see officers walking in and out.

Oh no . . .

“What’s going on?” I say in a panic, running inside. Our suite is once again filled with people, but none of them here to see Devonte.

There’s a detective combing through my belongings. Another officer is carefully rummaging through Kammy’s things. Another is in the living room. Another walks out of Vanessa’s room.

“What are you doing?”

“Are you Jordyn Monroe?” the officer in my room asks.

“Yes! Is everything okay? Is someone hurt?”

“We’re looking for Kamara Young. Have you seen or heard from her?”

My stomach tightens, heart racing. “No. But what does that have to do with my room?”

“Her family reported her missing. This was her last known whereabouts.”