Chapter 17 Dumpster
Dumpster
“I’ve never been to a college before,” says Oscar, from the passenger seat of my car.
“We can walk around, pretending we go there, making like we’re pledges at a fraternity or something.
I mean, I gotta take advantage, right? ‘Cause, like, I’m not going anywhere after I graduate, so I’m not gonna have a lot of opportunities to go on a campus like this.
I mean, my only chance is gonna be when I come visit you, whichever school you end up at.
I can come visit you, right? We’re still gonna be friends after we’re out of high school, right? ”
As I drive, I’m ignoring most of what Oscar is saying (my mind is stuck on my whole messed-up situation), but that last thing he just said strikes me.
I’m surprised to hear him so vulnerable.
I guess a lot of us seniors are feeling things, as we move closer and closer to the end of our high school careers.
Even though this is still the fall and there’s another semester after this one, kids at school are already starting to be accepted to colleges far away from here or beginning to make plans to move out of Point Liberty after graduation.
This all is starting to worry Oscar, who will most likely stay in town, continue to work at Burger King, and get married and raise a family here.
To put it simply, all his friends are leaving, including me, his best friend. I don’t know yet what school I’m going to next year (I’m waiting to hear about a couple possible track scholarships), but I’m definitely not staying here.
Oscar knows this. Oscar fears this.
“Right, Hunter?”
“Yeah,” I nod. “We’ll always be friends.”
“Okay. Just checking. ‘Cause you gonna meet all these new people, and they’re gonna be on your level. Like, all computer geniuses. I didn’t know if you’re gonna wanna hang out with me then.
I’ll probably still be working at Burger King and shit.
I mean, five years from now, maybe I can be a manager.
That’s better, right? And I’ll probably have kids with Blanca.
That’s good, right? I’ll be settled down.
That’s respectable. You ain’t gotta hide me from all your college friends, all your rich friends. ‘Cause a family man is respectable.”
“Oscar,” I say, “you and me being friends, it’s not based on, like, where you work or where you are in life or anything like that. Us? It’s deeper than that.”
“Okay. Sorry if this sounds too gay and shit.”
I shrug.
“Maybe after we talk to your brother, we can ask him about parties going on tonight.” Oscar seems excited. “Maybe he can get us into one. Like, thrown by a frat or sorority. I mean, it’s Saturday. There must be a lot going on tonight.”
“We’re not hanging out with my brother.”
“You still ain’t told me what’s going on. What’d he do? Did he bang Emma? That’s it, right? He banged your girlfriend.”
“No.”
“If you finna kick his ass, I’ll help you and shit. ‘Cause that ain’t right. If anything is bro code, that’s bro code.”
“No, he didn’t bang Emma.”
“Then what is it?” Oscar looks out the side window. “Hold up, Hunter. You’re going the wrong way. Pomona College in the opposite direction.”
“I have to stop somewhere first. I need to talk to someone.”
“Who?”
“We have to go to 7-Eleven.”
“Why?”
I don’t answer, but it doesn’t matter because in a matter of seconds I turn into the 7-Eleven parking lot.
The homeless woman is in her usual spot, sitting next to the Redbox kiosk. She’s looking into the palm of her hands, and she seems to be talking to them.
I pull into a parking space. Both Oscar and I get out of the car.
As soon as I make eye contact with the homeless woman, her facial expression goes from blank to frightened. She says, through her closed yellowing teeth, “Nash!”
Then, she suddenly springs upward and lands on all fours like she’s some kind of animal.
Oscar stops dead in his tracks. “The fuck?!”
I hold out my palms toward the woman. “I need to talk to you.”
The woman, on her hands and feet, scurries away, and disappears around the corner of the building.
“Hey!” I yell after her.
Oscar turns to me. “Who the hell is that?”
I start walking in the direction of the woman. “She knows something. I know she knows something.”
“Knows what?”
“I mean, I don’t know how she knows, but she knows.”
“You not making any sense, Hunter.”
I head to the side of the building, and Oscar follows me.
Several yards away is the woman, still hunched down. We lock eyes. She turns away from me and quickly crawls around another corner, going to the back of the store, where the dumpster is.
Oscar raises his hands to the sky. “Yo, I’m out, dude! Let’s get outta here, Hunter.”
“No. I have to talk to her.”
“She ain’t a ‘her.’ She’s some kind of creature and shit. Let’s go, bro!”
I run towards the back of the building.
Behind me, I hear Oscar mumble, annoyed with me, “Hunter.” But he follows me anyway.
When I get to the back of the store, I see the dumpster leaning against the far end of the wall. But the woman is nowhere to be seen.
“Where’d she go?” asks Oscar.
We take a few steps forward. We hear a loud and squishy chewing sound coming from the other side of the dumpster, the side that’s not visible to us.
“What’s that noise?” Oscar is yanking on my arm, trying to get me to stop moving ahead. “Is that her? Why is she making that noise, bro? I don’t like this.”
We approach the dumpster. The chewing sounds now alternate with the sounds of slurping, of jagged teeth gnashing on something and then savoring it.
Oscar still holds on to me. “You sure about this, dude?”
The slurping, the chewing, the gnashing: it all amplifies and reaches a thunderous crescendo, seeming to make the metal dumpster vibrate in compliance.
Oscar and I simultaneously take a peek at the other side of the dumpster.
The homeless woman is squatting down, her legs wide apart.
In front of her, on the pavement, is a mound of old, rotting chow mein noodles with flies hovering all around them.
She shovels a fistful of foul noodles into her mouth.
She chews and slurps. But before she’s even swallowed it all down, she’s already grabbed more noodles. Chew, slurp, chew, slurp.
I try to get the woman’s attention. “Hey!”
She turns to me. Chow mein juice drips from her mouth. Her face changes once again to one of fear.
“You keep calling me Nash,” I say. “Why do you keep calling me Nash?”
“Because that’s your name, Nash.” Her fear turns into delight. She starts laughing. “That’s your name! Nash, Nash, Nash!”
“You told me that my secrets are safe with you.”
“Yes, I did.”
“What are my secrets?” I ask. “The secrets you’re keeping safe. What are they?”
The woman waves her finger at me, like she’s telling me “no.” She says, “If I told you, then I wouldn’t be keeping them safe, would I?”
“Tell me!” I scream at her.
She moves her finger to her lips, like “shhhhh.” Then, she whispers, “You like to party. You really like to party.”
After saying that, she immediately gets on all fours again and runs away from me, disappearing into a thicket of bushes.
I start to go after her, but I notice Oscar, leaning against the wall, looking like he’s going to pass out.
He manages to say, “I’m trying to help you, bro. But I’m—what’s the word?—I’m squirmish.”
“Squeamish,” I correct him.
“Yeah. That too.”
“You okay?”
Oscar nods. “Yeah. I am now. What was that all about, Hunter?”
“I don’t know.”
And I don’t think I want to find out. But I know I have to.