Chapter 20 Dorm
Dorm
Oscar and I stand here, staring at Nash’s closed door. At this point, I have no idea what the best move is.
“What now?” Oscar whispers.
I shrug. “We need to find out if Nash is here.”
To the right of Nash’s door is a different kind of door, one that leads into the stairwell. I tell Oscar that I plan to knock on my brother’s door, and we’ll hide in the stairwell to see if Nash says anything or comes out of his room. Oscar nods.
I knock loudly on Nash’s door three times. Oscar and I rush through the side door and into the stairwell, leaving this door slightly open so that we can hear. Nothing. Nash doesn’t say anything. Nash doesn’t come out.
I extend my arm back into the hallway, knock three more times, and pull my arm away. Still nothing.
“I don’t think he’s here,” I say.
“So how do we get in?” asks Oscar. “I don’t pick locks, dude.”
“I mean, I don’t either. Maybe he leaves his door unlocked?”
I step back into the hallway, slowly turn the doorknob, and push. It’s definitely locked.
Oscar says, “I bet I can get his window open from the outside though.”
“I don’t know about that.”
“We’re on the first floor. So I can go outside, open the window, climb through it, and let you in. It’s too noticeable if we’re both out there busting in. If it’s just me, I can be quick.”
I shake my head. “I’m not sure, Oscar.”
“Ain’t too many people on the street right now. I can do it. And people who are, they’re all on their phones anyway.”
“It’s broad daylight,” I say.
“Yeah, but if what you’re saying about your brother is true, every moment counts, bro. We can’t be sitting on our asses until the sun goes down.”
I consider all our options. I give Oscar the go ahead.
I hide back in the stairwell, and Oscar heads up the hallway to get outside. I wait.
I’m super nervous, mostly because Oscar is doing something shady and I’m not around to watch him, to supervise him, to make sure he doesn’t get caught. I wait.
Maybe I should go outside and at least be the lookout person for him. I wait.
Yes, I have to help him outside. That’s what I have to do.
I emerge from the stairwell, and I’m on the move. But before I can get too far, I hear a door behind me open. I turn around.
Oscar is peeking his head out of Nash’s room. He gestures with his hand for me to quickly come in. I do. Once I’m inside, Oscar closes the door and locks it.
It’s so dark in here because the blinds are drawn. My eyes are adjusting.
Some light does get through one of the misaligned slats in the blinds, so I manage to see some stuff. There’s what looks like broken glass on the desk, which sits right below the window where Oscar came in.
“What happened, dude?” I ask.
Oscar shrugs. “I couldn’t get the window open, so I had to use a rock to break the glass. I was able to reach the lock that way. I climbed in and messed up the blinds a little, but we’re in.”
“Did anybody see you?”
“Nah, man, I was disgraced.”
“You mean . . . discreet?”
“Yeah, ain’t nobody saw me.”
Oscar reaches for the light switch. I grab his wrist to stop him.
“Don’t touch anything. Fingerprints.”
“Now you tell me,” Oscar says. “I touched the window, the blinds, the desk, the door.”
“We’ll wipe that all down before we leave. But let’s not touch anything else unless we’re taking it with us.”
I look around. Even in such darkness, I can tell it’s really messy. I see a couple of empty bottles of some kind of alcohol near the closet. There are clothes all over the floor and all over the mattress. The sheet and blanket and comforter are all bunched up in a big disheveled pile on the bed.
Because of the blinds, there’s more light near the desk. So I can see powder—white powder—spread out on top of the closed laptop on the desk. Is Nash doing cocaine?
I move closer to the desk. Next to the powder are little square plastic baggies filled with more powder. Next to the baggies is a digital scale. Next to the digital scale is what looks like a block of something wrapped inside a plastic grocery store bag.
“Is your brother a dealer?” Oscar asks.
“I don’t know. I mean, I know he drinks. But I never really thought about if he does drugs or not.”
“Not on your hidden camera?”
“No. Nothing like that. I guess I can imagine him doing drugs. But dealing? Nash? That’s crazy.”
“About as crazy as him killing his girlfriend.”
Oscar and I look around the room, being careful not to touch anything. Our eyes have gotten more used to the dark now, so we’re able to make out the room in a little more detail.
“What are we looking for?” Oscar asks.
I sigh. “I don’t know. My shoelace? Anything that belongs to me? Anything that will tell us what Nash is planning to do?”
“You’re the computer expert. Can you hack his laptop?”
“I mean, yeah, I know a lot and can do a lot and understand code and several programming languages, but I’m not really a hacker.
That’s a totally different thing, trying to bust through security and firewalls and shit.
I mean, I’ve got some rudimentary knowledge.
I can try. I need gloves or something though. ”
“Let’s just take the laptop with us,” Oscar says.
“I’m not sure if that’s a good idea.”
Suddenly, Oscar and I both hear a groan, a human groan, coming from inside the room.
WHAT THE HELL?!
We whip our heads around to the bed. That pile, made up of the sheet and blanket and comforter, moves.
Another groan. There’s somebody underneath that pile.
Apparently, we didn’t notice because it’s so dark and so messy in here.
The pile shifts again, and the bedding slides down to reveal Nash’s face. He’s lying in bed, sleeping, and he’s now unconsciously adjusting his body to find a more comfortable position.
Nash has always been a heavy sleeper, and somehow he has managed to sleep through the knocking, through Oscar breaking the window, through us talking. I suppose the comedown from doing coke last night also helped to keep him conked out.
I look at Oscar, and he’s terrified. I hold out my hand at him, indicating that we both should not move a muscle until Nash settles down.
Nash stops moving. He returns to his deep sleep.
Oscar and I both release a quiet breath. We have to use this moment to get the hell out of here.
But Nash starts moving again. His eyes still closed, still in an unconscious state, he kicks all of the bedding off of him, exposing his entire body.
He’s now spread out on his back, taking up the whole mattress.
He’s wearing nothing but boxer shorts, and he’s got a huge erection, pushing the fabric towards the ceiling.
Oscar immediately shifts his eyes down to the floor.
Nash rustles again, and his cock pops out through the front hole of his boxer shorts. And there it is, in all its glory. The Leaning Tower of Dick.
I try not to look, but I see everything out of the corner of my eye.
Still unaware that there are two guys in his room, Nash mumbles in his sleep.
He moves his hand down to his cock. He starts stroking it.
There’s too much friction, so he licks his palm and then moves his hand back down and keeps going.
He moans in pleasure, but he’s still in a state between sleeping and waking.
He’s not sleepwalking—he’s sleep-masturbating.
Oscar makes eye contact with me. He mouths, silently, “What the fuck?”
I hold up a finger, telling him we have to wait for my brother to totally fall back asleep so that we can get out of here.
Oscar looks at the floor again. He’s super uncomfortable.
Nash releases a final moan and finishes onto his stomach. Eyes still closed, he reaches down onto the floor and grabs a dirty T-shirt to wipe himself clean. He then tosses the shirt aside. It glides through the air and hits Oscar’s arm.
Startled, Oscar flinches, yanks his arm back, and his elbow slams against the wall, causing a very noticeable THUD.
“What?” Nash mumbles.
His eyes shoot open. He looks groggy and disoriented. He looks in my direction, but because his eyes have not adjusted to the darkness he can’t make out who I am.
Nash yells, “Who the fuck are you?!”
I pull the door wide open, causing the light from the hallway to spill in and pierce Nash’s eyes. He closes them, while stumbling out of bed.
I run down the hallway, and I hear Oscar close behind me.
I turn down another hallway. I look behind me. Oscar moves quickly, carrying my brother’s laptop in one hand.
We speed past the reception counter, surprising the two students working there, and burst out the front entrance. We both instinctually move in the direction of where my car is—but we immediately stop.
There’s a police car parked next to the sidewalk.
A female student and a male police officer are standing next to the vehicle.
She’s explaining something to him and pointing in the direction of my brother’s window, where Oscar climbed in.
She then spots Oscar and points at him. The officer looks at Oscar and me.
The front doors of Walker Hall fly open, and Nash, wearing nothing but his boxer shorts, comes out, blocking his eyes from the high noon sun.
I don’t have to tell Oscar what to do. We’ve been on the track team since freshman year. Some things are just in our blood, in our bones, in our souls. Both of us start running.