Page 36 of Hunter's Hidden Camera
“Wait here,” I say.
I walk back in my room and open the bottom drawer of my desk. I stare at the survival knife.
“Hunter?” I hear Oscar say from the hallway.
I think about my name. Hunter. I think about its meaning.
By instinct, I move to my laptop, navigate to a dictionary, and type in my name. The first definition reads: “a person or animal that hunts.”
I shut the laptop, grab the survival knife, fold it closed, put it in my pocket. And with a determined stride, walk out the door.
17
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 tomove 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 canget 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’sbro 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?”
