Chapter 19 Campus
Campus
Oscar seems to have repressed the image of the homeless woman eating chow mein (I mean, if you can forget about that, why wouldn’t you?), and is exclusively obsessing over his broken relationship.
I know this because he keeps mumbling Blanca’s name and Victor’s name and swearing in Spanish under his breath.
I can only imagine what he is going through.
As I’ve said before, he’s loyal AF. Like, one of his core beliefs is the idea of being loyal to those you are close to, to those you love.
It’s not like he’s ever expressed his beliefs out loud or anything, but I just know through his behavior, through his actions.
So, in his world, someone close to him being disloyal to him is not even in the realm of possibility.
That’s why he never suspected that his girlfriend and friend were messing around behind his back.
And now, those two have put a serious dent in Oscar’s sense of trust in people, in the world, in God. What a horrible state of mind to be in.
So I want him to know that I am still here for him. “You deserve better, Oscar. And you’re gonna find better.”
Oscar nods, solemnly.
I ask, “What do you want to do?”
“You need to go see your brother,” says Oscar, “so let’s go see your brother.”
“Nah, man,” I say. “You’ve been through a lot today. I can’t drag you into this. There’s some real crazy shit going on. I’ll go on my own.”
“Bro, what you want me to do? Go home, lock myself in my room, and cry all day like a little bitch? I need to get my mind off my situation. Normally, I would say let’s pay someone to get us beer and let’s go get fucked up.
But you said you need help, so I’m gonna help you.
” Oscar bangs his palm against the glove compartment. “Let’s go.”
On the 210 freeway going east, I explain to Oscar what I saw in those video clips: Nash and Alessandra arguing, Nash strangling her, Nash removing the body, Nash cleaning his room.
I tell him about the can of gasoline that Nash took from the garage and the shoelace he swiped to probably link me to the murder.
(I leave out the part about me uploading jerk-off videos of my brother to a porn site.
I’ll save that for another day . . . or never.)
For the entire thirty-minute car ride, I try to convince Oscar that all of this is not a joke. And even after we arrive and I park the car on a street near my brother’s college campus, Oscar still doesn’t totally believe me.
I mean, he actually says, “Okay, okay, I believe you,” but I know he doesn’t mean it, because if he did then he would be totally freaking out like I am right now.
It seems he needs to see what I saw to totally believe and understand it.
But of course, he’ll never see what I saw because somehow all of my video files have disappeared.
Before we get out of the car, I press my hand against the front pocket of my blue jeans to see if the survival knife is still there. It is. Honestly, I don’t know why I brought it. It’s not like I’m going to use it.
I think about it a little . . . Well, seeing that it’s a survival knife, maybe grabbing it was pure survival instinct.
“The first two years of college, Nash lived in the dorms on what’s called South Campus,” I say. “He’s now on North Campus in a building called Walker Hall. I’m not sure what room he’s in exactly though.”
“Hold up, Hunter. What’s the plan? We’re just gonna knock on his door and say what?”
I put my hand on my throbbing forehead. “I don’t know.
I mean, of course I thought about going to the police, but if he is trying to frame me then I’m screwed.
I was thinking maybe I can convince him to turn himself in, but if he refuses I’m screwed again.
Maybe to start, we just need more information.
Find out what he’s planning to do with the body.
Maybe follow him. Maybe build a case against him.
Maybe get my shoelace back and whatever else he has of mine and then turn him in before he can get his hands on anything else that belongs to me. ”
“That’s a lot of maybes, bro.”
“Keep your head down. Don’t look at anyone. We can’t have people seeing me. Because if something goes wrong, I don’t want anybody to be able to link me to being anywhere near Nash right now.”
I instruct Oscar to open Google Maps on his phone and navigate us to my brother’s residence hall. We get out of the car and start walking.
The streets of Claremont, California, where Pomona College is (and six other schools that are collectively known as the Claremont Colleges), are relatively quiet around campus. After all, this is a Saturday. So Oscar and I are able to zip down the sidewalk without really being clocked by anyone.
Oscar notices his surroundings. “It’s nice around here.”
The roads are clean, and trees line the entire street that we’re on.
But then I realize Oscar isn’t referring to his environment. He’s catching glances at the parade of hot college girls that walk past us, having animated conversations with one another, as we move closer and closer to my brother’s building.
“See?” I say. “There are tons of girls out in the world. Fuck Blanca.”
“You’re right, bro.”
A Latino girl, wearing a tight sweater and a small backpack over her shoulders, smiles at Oscar.
He says to her, “‘Sup, mami?”
She giggles, delighted, as she walks by.
I scold, “Oscar!”
“What?” he says. “I’m single now.”
“No. We’re keeping a low profile, remember?”
“Oh, yeah, right, sorry, bro.”
Soon, we’re across the street from Walker Hall, standing on the sidewalk. We’re partially hidden behind a tree trunk.
“Don’t look directly at the building across the street,” I say. “Pretend we’re talking to each other about something.”
Oscar says, “We are talking to each other about something.”
“Uh . . . right . . . so keep doing that.”
I see students coming in and out of the building.
“We can’t just go in and knock on every door,” says Oscar.
“Also,” I say, “there might be, like, a security desk inside or something, where you have to show ID. I don’t know.”
“We can bust a window in the back or something.”
“Let’s try to avoid anything illegal.”
“That’s illegal?” Oscar asks.
“Oscar.”
Oscar shrugs.
Then I remember something. “So in this particular residence hall, which is only for juniors and seniors, I think, my brother gets his own room, but he has to share a bathroom with one other dude. And I think I overheard him talking to Alessandra once about this other guy, and Nash called him ‘this heavy-metal-looking motherfucker.’ So if by some chance we see this guy and follow him in, we’ll know that my brother’s room is right next to his. ”
“But what’s the chances that’s gonna happen?”
“Let’s just wait and see.”
Even though it could look kind of shady, me and Oscar just standing here on the sidewalk, no one really cares. Students who walk by are either talking to each other or glued to their phones. And when they’re on their phones, it renders Oscar and me invisible.
I stand here anxiously, watching the front entrance of Walker Hall. Oscar is immersed in his own phone, trying to pass the time, flipping through Instagram and playing games, while catching side glances of girls going by.
He doesn’t really use Facebook, but he has an account, and when he logs onto it right now he becomes super upset. He starts swearing in Spanish again, unleashing a string of brutal profanities.
“What?” I ask.
He shows me. According to their Facebook profiles, Blanca and Victor are now “in a relationship.”
“Oh, Oscar” is all I manage to say, because at that moment I notice a long-haired dude, in black jeans and a Metallica T-shirt, walking towards Walker Hall.
He’s got a pair of drumsticks sticking out of his back pocket.
I know I might be stereotyping, but if anybody is a “heavy-metal-looking motherfucker” then it’s this guy.
“Oscar, let’s go.”
As we move across the street, keeping out this dude’s line of sight, Oscar slips his phone back in his pocket.
Heavy Metal Dude pulls open the front door and goes inside.
With the door still ajar, I see a reception counter to the right with two students, one male and one female, sitting behind it.
Heavy Metal Dude flashes his student ID at them, passes by, and turns down a hallway.
The two students behind the counter barely acknowledge him, because the girl is showing a video on her phone to the guy and they’re both laughing.
“Follow my lead,” I say to Oscar before heading inside the building.
As I approach the reception counter, I quickly get out my high school ID and wave it. The guy is still watching the video, and he barely pays attention to my ID. He half-heartedly nods at me, while keeping his eyes on the girl’s phone.
Oscar keeps following me, but he doesn’t pretend to flash ID.
The guy looks up from the phone and says to Oscar, “ID.”
I think quickly. They must allow guests of the residents into the building, at least during the day.
I say, “Oh, my friend’s just visiting for a few minutes. I’m getting him some class notes.”
The guy looks Oscar up and down. Finally, he says, “Okay.” He turns back to the phone.
Oscar and I hurry down a hallway, keeping a safe distance from Heavy Metal Dude.
He turns another corner. We take a peek and see him going into a room near the end of the hall.
After he closes his door, we walk towards his room.
We discover that, after his room, there is one more room in this hallway. This room must be Nash’s room.