Freaky Saturday

Chapter 1- Hugo 1

The car smelled like lemon wipes and old coffee, the kind my mom always kept in the cup holder even though she never drank it anymore. The campus rose in front of us like something unreal, all red brick and green lawns and banners flapping in a breeze that felt sharper than home. I watched students drag boxes and suitcases across the sidewalk and told myself this was fine. This was normal. This was what I wanted.

My dad parked, killed the engine, and sat there for a second longer than necessary. José de La Fuentes, math teacher, immigrant, professional worrier. His hands stayed on the wheel like if he let go, something irreversible would happen.

“You call,” my mom said immediately, leaning over from the passenger seat. “You call every week. No, every three days. And you eat vegetables. Real vegetables, not fries pretending to be potatoes.”

“I will,” I said. I smiled because that was easier than explaining the tight thing in my chest. “I promise.”

She reached for my face, her thumb brushing my cheekbone. Her eyes were already shiny. Martha always cried at airports, graduations, even commercials with dogs. I loved her for it. I also needed her to stop.

“Mom,” I said softly, laughing. “People are watching.”

“So what,” she said. “Let them watch.”

My dad finally turned, pulled me into a hug that was stronger than it looked. He smelled like cologne and chalk dust. “You’re going to do great,” he said into my hair. “Math is math everywhere. People are people everywhere. You’ll find your place.”

I nodded into his shoulder. I hoped he was right about the second part.

When I stepped out of the car, the air felt huge. Like the world had suddenly expanded and forgotten to ask me first. I grabbed my backpack, slung it over my shoulder, and waved as they drove off. My mom blew a kiss through the window. My dad raised two fingers, his version of goodbye.

Then they were gone.

I stood there for a second, staring at the dorm building that was going to be home. Four floors, ivy crawling up one side like it had opinions. I rolled my shoulders, straightened my spine. Six foot four meant I could not disappear even if I wanted to, but I could still try to look calm. Normal. Cool.

My room was on the third floor. The hallway smelled like new paint and panic. Doors were open everywhere, music blasting, parents hovering. I found my number and pushed the door open.

The first thing I saw was Star Wars.

Not subtle Star Wars either. A Millennium Falcon poster stretched across the wall. A shelf already stacked with Lego X wings, action figures, books. A throw pillow with the Death Star on it. It was like walking into a themed Airbnb.

“Whoa,” I said before I could stop myself.

A guy popped up from behind a box. “Right?” he said, grinning like he’d been waiting for that reaction.

He was about my height, maybe a little shorter. Stocky, not fat exactly, but solid. Pale skin, bright auburn hair that looked like it had never met a comb, freckles everywhere like someone had spilled cinnamon on him. He wore glasses with thick black frames and a T shirt that said I Am One With The Force.

“I’m Jack,” he said. “You must be Hugo.”

“Hugo,” I confirmed. “And… wow. You really committed.”

Jack laughed. “I warned my mom. She said I’d grow out of it.”

“And did you?”

“Nope.”

I dropped my bag on my side of the room, which looked painfully bare in comparison. “I respect it,” I said. “Original trilogy or prequels?”

Jack’s eyes lit up. “That’s the wrong question. It’s about internal consistency within the universe. Like, the prequels have structural issues but the political world building is actually fascinating if you—”

“If you treat it like a Greek tragedy instead of a hero’s journey,” I finished.

He stared at me. Then his grin doubled. “Oh. You’re one of those.”

“One of the good ones,” I said. “Midichlorians are still dumb.”

“They are,” Jack agreed solemnly. “But the idea of destiny being quantified is kind of terrifying, right? Like free will versus biological determinism.”

I felt something loosen in my chest. We talked, really talked, about hyperspace physics and why sound in space made no sense but worked emotionally anyway. He told me he was an Astrophysics major. I told him I was Math. We circled into black holes, time dilation, whether the Force was just an extradimensional field.

“So,” I said eventually, collapsing onto my bed, “you might have taken the Star Wars thing a little too far.”

Jack snorted. “Says the guy who just referenced Kant using space wizards.”

We laughed, loud and real, and for the first time since the car drove away, I felt okay.

Calculus I was in a lecture hall that looked like it had been designed to humble freshmen. Rows and rows of seats, steep enough to make my legs nervous. I took the last row, far right, my usual strategy. Observe first. Exist quietly.

A girl sat down next to me, balancing a notebook covered in stickers. Cats, planets, tiny equations. She smiled at me like it was the most natural thing in the world.

“Hi,” she said. “I’m Sandy.”

“Hugo,” I said. “Nice stickers.”

“Thanks,” she said. “Do you think he’ll be one of those professors who writes like a dying spider?”

“I hope so,” I said. “It builds character.”

She laughed, and it caught me off guard. Sandy was beautiful in a way that felt unfair. Big eyes, warm smile, hair pulled back in a messy bun like she had better things to think about. She asked what my major was, where I was from. I told her Colombia, mostly. She told me she liked number theory because it felt like puzzles.

I was mid sentence when a shadow fell over us.

“You’re on my seat, nerd.”

I looked up.

He was tall. Not my tall, but close. Broad shoulders stretching his T shirt like it was an accomplishment. Muscles on muscles, blond hair perfectly messy in a way that was definitely practiced. His jaw looked carved. His eyes were deep brown, sharp and amused.

I blinked. “There are no assigned seats.”

He smiled without warmth. “There are.”

Sandy shifted uncomfortably. “Uh—”

“I’m Greg,” he said, cutting her off, already leaning closer to her. “Economics. You?”

“Sandy,” she said, blushing. Of course she did.

I smiled, slow. “Hugo. Math.”

Greg’s eyes flicked over me, lingering on my arms, my chest, my legs. The assessment was obvious. “Figures.”

“Obviously a brainless finance bro would act like that,” I said pleasantly.

Sandy’s mouth dropped open.

Greg laughed, sharp and loud. “What did you say?”

“I said,” I repeated, still smiling, “there’s no assigned seating, and you can find another chair.”

His jaw tightened. “Move.”

“No.”

He leaned closer, his voice dropping. “You look like a stiff breeze could snap you in half.”

“And you look like you peaked in high school,” I said. “Guess we’re even.”

A few people nearby snickered. Greg’s smile vanished.

“Whatever,” he said finally. “Not worth it.”

He turned back to Sandy, flashed that perfect grin again. “You can do better than this guy anyway.”

Something in me sagged. I stood up. “Enjoy the seat,” I said, and moved to the other side of the room.

It didn’t end there.

Over the next weeks, Greg made it his hobby. Comments in the hallway. Shoulder checks that were a little too hard to be accidental. Loud jokes about my “twig arms” whenever he passed me at the gym. He called me Nico once. I hated that it stung.

But time passed. Classes settled. I made friends. Sandy apologized. Jack became my anchor. We studied late, ate terrible food, argued about physics. I started firing back at Greg, sharp and quick. People laughed. He hated that.

By October, he still looked at me like I was something stuck to his shoe.

Saturday afternoons had a sound to them. A soft hum, like the campus itself had exhaled. No lectures bleeding through walls, no doors slamming with urgency, just distant laughter, someone playing music too loud somewhere, and the steady whirr of my Nintendo Switch fan as it worked harder than it should.

I lay on my bed with my legs stretched out, socked feet hooked over the frame, Joy Cons warm in my hands. I’d finished all my coursework for the next week by noon. Calculus problem sets, linear algebra proofs, even the reading for my gen ed class. I told myself that meant I’d earned this. A quiet victory lap through Hyrule. My brain felt pleasantly empty, like a chalkboard wiped clean.

Jack was out. He’d been out a lot lately.

Ashley.

That was her name. Ashley with the sharp eyeliner and laugh that cracked halfway through like she was always surprised by her own joy. Depa Delta Toon Dar. An all girls fraternity with a name that sounded like a cartoon spell and a reputation that made people talk in lowered voices.

I was mid fight with a Lynel when the door flew open.

“Hugo,” Jack said, breathless, already grinning. “Buddy. Pal. Love of my life.”

“No,” I said immediately, not even looking up.

“You don’t even know what I’m going to say.”

“You’re going to say party,” I said. “And then you’re going to say fraternity, and then you’re going to say please like it’s a question.”

Jack dropped onto his bed, bouncing it. “Depa Delta Toon Dar.”

“I knew it.”

“They’re having a thing tonight.”

“I’m busy.”

“You’re playing a game.”

“I’m emotionally busy.”

Jack groaned. “I need you.”

“You do not.”

“I really, really do.”

I paused the game and looked at him. “Why.”

He sat up, suddenly serious. “Because Ashley asked if I was bringing friends, and I said yes, and also because I think tonight might be the night.”

I stared.

“Third base,” he clarified, waggling his eyebrows.

“Jack.”

“She’s amazing, Hugo.”

“I don’t doubt that.”

“And she has friends.”

“That’s not helping.”

“Please,” he said. “Just come. Be tall. Be charming. Exist.”

I sighed, deep and dramatic. “I hate parties.”

“I know.”

“I hate loud music.”

“I know.”

“I hate drunk people.”

“You’re going to hate this part,” he said gently, “but Greg will probably be there.”

That did it.

I sat up. “Absolutely not.”

Jack raised his hands. “I didn’t say you had to talk to him.”

“He exists loudly.”

“Just come,” he said. “For me.”

I looked around the room. At the Switch. At my neat stack of notebooks. At the quiet. And then I thought about the weeks blurring together, about hiding in the back row, about letting Greg take up space unchecked.

“Fine,” I said. “But if I die, you inherit my games.”

“Deal.”

I showered. Took my time. Put on a button down I’d been saving, dark green that made my eyes look brighter, black jeans that actually fit. I ran a hand through my hair, let it fall how it wanted. When I stepped out, Jack whistled.

“Damn,” he said. “You clean up nice.”

“Don’t make it weird.”

The fraternity house glowed from the inside like a living thing. Lights in every window, music pulsing so hard I felt it in my ribs. The lawn was packed. Girls laughing, people dancing, the air thick with beer and perfume and something sweet burning somewhere.

Inside was chaos. Posters, tapestries, fairy lights everywhere. Someone had painted moons on the walls. A girl in a witch hat, that was clearly a pledge, handed us cups without asking questions.

Jack stuck with me for exactly ten minutes.

Then Ashley appeared, smile at both of us and started making small talk. I could see Jack’s member getting erect just by her presence. She also noticed it, took his hand, and said, “Come upstairs.”

He shot me an apologetic look that lasted half a second before he was gone.

I drank. Cheap beer, warm, bitter. I wandered. Smiled. Nodded. Tried to look like I belonged.

That’s when I met him.

He was leaning against the kitchen counter, towering, broad, blonde hair curling slightly at the nape of his neck. His arms were thick and hairy, chest visible through an open flannel. A thick build with an extremely sexy belly. He smiled at me like he already knew something I didn’t.

“Hey,” he said.

“Hey,” I said back, my voice doing something stupid.

“Med school,” he said, tapping his cup against mine. “You look like trouble, little one.”

“Math,” I said. “And I am taller than you.”

“You know what I mean, handsome.” He laughed, low and warm. “I’m Noah.”

We talked. About anatomy and abstract proofs. About stress and sleep deprivation. He listened. Really listened. He leaned in. I leaned back. Then closer. The music blurred. The beer flowed. My chest felt light.

“This place is wild,” he said.

“I was bribed,” I admitted.

“Worth it?”

I smiled. “Ask me later.”

That’s when Greg appeared.

“Wow,” he said loudly. “Didn’t expect to see you here buddy, specially with such…. unremarkable company.”

My stomach dropped.

He looked even bigger tonight. Tight shirt, veins visible, confidence radiating like heat.

He glanced at Noah. Smirked. “You can do much, much better than this half Colombian twig.”

Something snapped.

“Shut up,” I said.

Greg laughed. “Touched a nerve?”

“You don’t get to talk about me like that.”

“I just did.”

Noah frowned. “Hey man, relax.”

Greg stepped closer. “This guy’s a joke. All bones and ego.”

I stepped forward. “At least I have a brain.”

“Oh yeah?” he shot back. “What good is it if no one wants you?”

The room felt smaller. Hotter.

“You’re scared,” I said. “That’s what this is. You don’t know who you are without everyone looking at you.”

His eyes darkened. “Say that again.”

“You’re empty,” I said. “All muscle, no substance. A walking midlife crisis at nineteen.”

People were staring now. Phones out. Whispers.

“Careful,” Greg said. “I could break you.”

“Try,” I said. “See what happens when you pick on someone who won’t fold.”

We were inches apart. I could feel the heat off him. The hate. The room held its breath.

A girl stepped between us. Barefoot. Long dark hair. Bangles clinking. She smelled like incense.

“Boys,” she said lightly. “If you don’t behave, you’ll have to learn how to live in each other’s shoes.”

We stared at her.

Then we laughed. Short. Sharp.

“Get lost,” Greg said.

She shrugged. “Have it your way, stupid boys.”

She walked off.

The music swelled. The party resumed.

Then the floor shook.

At first I thought it was bass. Then it grew. Stronger. The walls creaked. My teeth rattled.

Greg’s smile vanished.

The ground rolled under my feet like water. A deep rumble rose from nowhere and everywhere. Glass clinked. Lights flickered.

I grabbed the counter. My heart hammered.

No one else reacted. No screams. No panic. Just us.

Greg looked at me, fear naked in his eyes.

“Do you feel that?” he asked.

“Yes,” I said.

The shaking intensified. The world tilted. For a second I was sure the building would come down.

Then it stopped.

Silence crashed in.

Jack came downstairs moments later, hair messy, grin wide.

“Hugo,” he said. “You’re not going to believe—”

I grabbed his arm. Hard.

“We’re leaving,” I said.

“Now?”

“Now.”

A s we stepped outside, the night air felt wrong. Too still.

Behind me, Greg watched.

Something had started.

And I knew, deep in my bones, this was only the beginning. I could feel something wrong, but I simply took a shower and went to bed. Jack was already snoring, everything seemed normal.