Page 42 of Hunter's Hidden Camera
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, “Wearetalking 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 Alessandraonce 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.”
