Page 10 of Hunter's Hidden Camera
As we’re walking down the hallway, we hear a male voice behind us: “Cuáles la gracia?”
Oscar and I turn around and see Victor Chaviano.
Oscar says to him, “Hunter se va a jamar a la jevita esta noche!”
They both laugh.
I took a couple years of Spanish as my foreign language elective, but I don’t quite understand what they’re saying because I think they’re speaking in Cuban slang.
Like Oscar, Victor’s background is also Cuban. But whereas Oscar was born in the United States, Victor was born in Cuba. He and his parents moved to California sometime during his elementary school years, when the U.S. government was making it relatively easy for Cubans to legally come into the country for the purposes of political asylum. (All that has changed drastically—Cubans now have to go through a much more difficult process to be allowed into the U.S.)
While Oscar’s good looks are rugged and stereotypically “macho,” Victor is classically handsome, refined, like he stepped out of a silent movie or something. He’s also on the track team, and he plays just about every sport, and is great in all of them.
Victor smiles wide and exposes his straight, white teeth. He pats me on my arm. “Good for you, Hunter,” he says with a faint accent. “The boy becomes a man, eh?”
“How you holding up, Victor?” I ask, because I know Victor recently broke up with his girlfriend, Julisa, who goes to a different school. He caught her cheating with some guy who’s like a senior in college.
“It’s okay,” he says. “I try to get my mind off her by just focusing on track and school and my writing.”
I don’t know much about it, but apparently Victor is “Wattpad famous.” He’s written several stories, mostly horror, and they have like millions of views. I know a lot of the girls at school read his work, cheer him on at track meets, and practically have to pick their tongues from off the ground whenever he walks by. So I don’t think it’ll be long until he finds another girlfriend.
Andrew appears from around the corner. When he sees the three of us, his face lights up.
As he passes us, he says, “Hi, Hunter. Hi, Oscar. Hi, Victor.”
“‘Sup,” I say.
Oscar and Victor lift up their chins at Andrew.
Once Andrew is out of earshot, Oscar says to us, “Man, that dude is so gay.”
Victor nudges Oscar’s elbow and says, “Less competition for us. We don’t have to compete with him for hot girls.”
Oscar nods. “True that.”
I look over my shoulder and catch Andrew checking out all of our asses. He quickly turns his head away and keeps on walking.
Suddenly my phone rings. I look. It’s my brother. That’s strange. He never calls me.
“I thought your phone died,” Oscar says.
I hit the “ignore” button. “I guess there was enough juice for a phone call.”
My cell rings again.
“That’s weird,” I say and hit “ignore” again.
Then, Nash sends me a series of texts:
—“Where are you?!”
—“Pick up!”
—“Hunter!”
—“Answer me!”
—“Bruh!”
