Chapter 21 Pool
Pool
The more Oscar and I run, the deeper we get into campus.
Earlier, we heard footsteps close behind us (that police officer?
Nash?). But now, we seem to be in the clear.
After all, we’re two of the best track athletes on campus.
There was no way that portly cop and my brother, in bare feet, were going to outrun us.
But of course, neither of us knows for sure, because neither of us have turned around since we dashed away from Walker Hall.
We approach what looks like some kind of sports complex and round the corner to the side of the structure. We finally slow down to catch our breaths and press our backs against the wall so that we’re out of view.
I take a peek back out to the wide open space in the middle of campus. The officer and Nash are nowhere to be seen. There are just a few students walking back and forth.
Oscar holds up my brother’s laptop. “I got this.”
“Good job, dude.”
“But I can never come on this campus again. People know what I look like. Sorry I messed it up.”
“Nah, man, it’s all good,” I say.
I look around the corner again. The coast is still clear.
Oscar keeps shaking his head, disappointed in himself.
I don’t want him to feel bad about being seen breaking in, so I gently swat his arm. “You did great, Oscar. You got us in. You got the laptop. This is a lot. You saved me, dude.”
Of course, I don’t feel saved. My brother might have seen us.
And if he did, that means he’s now on to me, on to what I’m trying to do, on to the fact that I’m actively attempting to do something to mess up whatever his plans are.
Hopefully, though, he was too groggy or the light was too bright or we were fast enough to be such a blur that he still doesn’t know it was me and Oscar who broke into his room.
“You think he saw us? I don’t think he saw us,” Oscar says. “Now what?”
“We’ve got to get to my car, get far away from here, and see what we can find on Nash’s laptop.”
I check around the corner again, and—damn it!—I spot the police officer. He makes eye contact with me.
“Shit,” I say. “We gotta move.”
I run along the side of the complex, and Oscar follows.
Through a locked gate we see, inside the complex, a big outdoor swimming pool, with bleachers on both sides of it. Nobody’s in there. I guess it’s closed to students on Saturdays, and there isn’t some kind of aquatic event today.
I jostle the thick padlock. We’re not getting in, so we move on. We run until we’re at the back of the structure and see another gate. This one is slightly open.
I look inside. On the far end of the swimming pool are the restrooms for guests who are attending a sporting event here. There’s a large janitorial cart parked in front of that building.
A janitor, an older man with a thick beard like Santa Claus, emerges from the men’s restroom with a mop and a bucket on wheels, having just cleaned the place. He then shuffles into the women’s restroom to continue cleaning.
I scan the area again to make sure no one else is in here. We’re good.
I wave Oscar to come with me through the gate. Once we’re in, Oscar points to the other side of the complex. On the left is a building that’s marked “LOCKER ROOMS.”
But before we even start moving, we hear footsteps behind us, running, getting closer. It’s the cop. And by the sound of the footsteps, there’s no way we can run the length of the pool and hide out in the locker rooms way on the other side, and they also might be locked.
I look around for another place to hide. The bleachers are totally exposed, especially since there isn’t a crowd sitting on them, so they’re no good.
At the same time, Oscar and I look at the swimming pool. The footsteps get even closer.
“How long can you hold your breath?” I whisper.
“He’ll see us through the water.”
“Not if we position ourselves underneath those two low diving boards.”
I know it’s kind of insane what we’re going to do, but it’s the only way.
Oscar and I quickly move to the edge of the pool.
I suddenly notice the laptop in Oscar’s hand.
“Laptop,” I say.
Oscar looks like a deer in headlights, not knowing what to do with it.
I see a garbage can by the gate. I grab the laptop, move quickly, toss it in the garbage can, and go back to the pool. We’ll have to retrieve the laptop later.
Oscar and I take a deep breath, slip into the cold water, and move ourselves underneath the two diving boards.
It’s almost unbearably cold down here. It feels like my blood is freezing. I’m getting light-headed. I’m pressing my fingers against the side of the pool to ensure that I remain in place and don’t accidentally bob to the top.
I hear the police officer’s heavy steps pound into the sports complex. The sun casts the officer’s shadow onto the water, so I can tell he’s running by the diving boards and presumably heading towards where the janitorial cart is.
I can’t hold my breath any longer. I turn to Oscar, who’s gesturing towards his face—he can’t either.
I count up with my fingers: one, two, three. We both quietly poke our heads out of the pool and take in deep breaths. Our teeth are chattering, our bodies shivering.
I look over to the restrooms. There’s no one there. The cop must be inside the women’s restroom, questioning the janitor.
“Can we get out?” Oscar manages to say, though he’s shaking. “I can’t take this.”
“Just a little bit longer, bro. You can do it.”
Both the police officer and the janitor come out of the restroom.
Shit. The officer’s back is facing towards us—but is the janitor looking directly at Oscar and me right now?
I gesture for Oscar to go back underwater. We both do.
The water seems even colder now. My body tries to scrunch itself into a ball, as a last-ditch way to find some kind of heat. My head is spinning.
We hear the sound of footsteps and the rolling janitorial cart moving towards us. Are we caught?
Then: the cop and the janitor both move past us and towards the gate that we came in. That was a close one.
I need air, and I need it now. Out of the corner of my eye, I see Oscar shaking his head back and forth in what looks like pain.
After a bit more conversation between the cop and the janitor, we hear the gate close. The footsteps and cart fade away.
Oscar and I shoot up out of the water, our faces probably blue or purple or some other unnatural color. We crawl out of the pool and roll onto our backs. Our bodies are convulsing.
“I’m freezing, dude,” Oscar says, with great difficulty.
“We have to get out of these wet clothes,” I say.
I point toward the locker rooms. “Maybe we can steal some dry clothes from in there.”
Oscar nods. Very slowly, he makes it onto his feet and gives me a hand up. We hurry.