The Lost Causes of Bleak Creek

by Rhett McLaughlin

  Rex said nothing as he began to absorb his fate for the rest of the day.

  “And even if I did,” Leif continued, “I probably wouldn’t let you use it. Unhygienic. No offense.”

  “Excellent, thanks,” Rex said, shaking his head. His parents sat down at one of the tables, but Rex and Leif stood a short distance away, where they could plot their film shoot out of earshot.

  “Alicia’s still not here?” Leif asked.

  “Nah,” Rex said. “Or if she is, I haven’t seen her.”

  “Even when I’m late, she’s even later,” Leif complained.

  Alicia Boykins had completed their friend trio when she’d moved to Bleak Creek in third grade. During recess on her second day at school, she’d asked Rex and Leif if she could get in on the drawing contest they were having. They’d given her a skeptical “Um, okay” and told her she’d have to “draw fast ’cause they were almost done.” “That’s not a problem,” Alicia had said, taking a multi-pointed rainbow pen from her pocket and, within minutes, busting out a picture of a smiling girl clutching three human heads in each hand. Rex and Leif had looked down at their own creations—a dragon wearing a beret and a half turtle, half bear, respectively—and realized they’d found a friend even weirder than they were.

  “She’ll be here, don’t worry,” Rex said.

  “The whole point is that the scene takes place at an outdoor event,” Leif said. “So we need to shoot before it’s over.”

  “We’ll be fine,” Rex said, unzipping his backpack and taking out the camcorder. “We still gotta figure ou—”

  “What’s up, fellas?” Rex and Leif turned to see Mark Hornhat next to them, in his usual polo shirt and khaki shorts and smelling like he had just showered in Eternity by Calvin Klein.

  “Oh, hey,” Rex said, trying his best to seem enthusiastic.

  “You guys ready for some ’cue?”

  Rex and Leif shrugged. Hornhat was one of those guys they probably wouldn’t be friends with if they lived in a bigger town and had more options. He lived in Heath Hills, the affluent, gated section of Bleak Creek, and, for Rex and Leif, he served as a walking representation of why being rich wasn’t all it was cracked up to be. “I’m not going to make too much money when I get older,” Rex had once said. “Don’t wanna turn into a Hornhat.”

  “Can’t believe freshman year’s starting soon,” Hornhat said. “High school, amigos.”

  “Yeah,” Leif said, swallowing so loudly that it made a sound. He and Rex hadn’t explicitly talked about it yet, but Rex knew they were both pretty nervous about high school.

  “What’s the camera for?” Hornhat asked, gesturing toward Rex’s hand.

  Rex raced to form the word “Nothing,” but Leif spoke first.

  “Our movie,” he said.

  Rex sighed. He had come to despise talking about their movie with other people, since it always seemed to suck the magic right out of the whole thing. He knew telling Hornhat would be no exception.

  “Whoa, cool!” Hornhat said. “What’s it called?”

  “PolterDog,” Leif said, stroking his dog’s back. “Tucker’s the lead.”

  Hornhat squinted at them. “So, it’s a part chicken, part dog?”

  “No,” Rex said, tempted to hit Hornhat with the camcorder whack-a-mole-style.

  “Then why’s it called Poultry Dog?”

  “It’s not,” Leif said. “It’s PolterDog! About a ghost dog. Like Poltergeist but without the geist. And instead a dog.”

  “Ohhhh,” Hornhat said, finally getting it. “You should just call it Ghost Dog. That’s cooler.”

  “If by cooler you mean super obvious,” Rex said. This was the exact conversation they’d had with at least ten other people. Though somehow it was worse with Hornhat.

  “Wrap it up, Hornhat,” Alicia said, appearing next to Leif as if out of nowhere. “We got a movie to make.” Rex had to hand it to Alicia; she was always late, yet somehow her timing usually ended up being perfect anyway.

  Hornhat seemed hurt for a moment before deciding to be amused instead. “Whatever, Boykins.” He laughed.

  “But seriously, man,” Alicia said, “we do have to start shooting.”

  “Okay, yeah, no problem. I was on my way to get a root beer anyway.”

  “You enjoy that now,” Alicia said as Hornhat wandered away. This was one of her greatest strengths in life. She could get away with saying things to people that Rex and Leif would never utter in a million years. “Hey, losers,” she said, throwing an arm around Leif’s neck and mussing up his hair.

  “Hey hey,” Rex said.

  “You’re late,” Leif said, but he was smiling.

  “What’s that smell?” Alicia asked, brushing a swath of dark curls away from her forehead.

  “Barbecue,” Rex quickly answered.

  “Rex forgot to put on deodorant,” Leif said.

  “It happens,” Alicia said, mockingly pinching her nose and smiling at Rex. Somehow her blunt acknowledgment of his stench made him stop worrying about it. “So what’s the plan? Have you figured out how to get Tucker to chase me yet?”

  Leif raised his eyebrows and smiled, reaching into his backpack. His hand emerged holding a large plastic bag.

  “Uh, what’s in there?” Alicia asked.

  “I present to you…the bacon belt!” Leif pulled out what looked to be a wad of greasy bacon tied together with fishing line.

  Tucker barked and lunged at Leif, who pulled his hand away just in time.

  “See? He loves it,” Leif said. “All you gotta do is put this on and he’ll chase you anywhere.”

  “You want me to…wear that?” Alicia asked. “I’m not so sure bacon grease goes well with stonewash,” she added, gesturing to her jorts.

  “Maybe you can just put it through one loop,” Rex suggested. “You know, more of a bacon tail.”

  “I guess that’ll work,” Leif said with a hint of disappointment. He’d obviously had big expectations for the bacon belt.

  “Okay, perfect,” Alicia said, running Leif’s creation through the back loop of her jorts, not without some trouble. A piece and a half of bacon fell to the ground, which Tucker gladly disposed of. “Where’s the script?”

  “Here you go,” Rex said, holding out two lightly crumpled pieces of paper, meticulously typed with Rex’s dead grandpa’s Smith-Corona.

  “Lemme see,” Alicia said, grabbing the pages. Rex leaned over her shoulder to refresh himself on the scene he was about to direct.

  EXT. OUTDOOR BIRTHDAY PARTY—DAY

  JESSICA (played by Alicia) and her DAD (played by Leif) are at a birthday party.

  DAD

  Whats the matter, sweetheart? Aren’t you exited to be at Aunt Kate’s birthday party?

  JESSICA

  Of course I am. It’s just…

  DAD

  You still thinking about Mr. Bones?

  Jessica nods, tearry-eyed.

  DAD

  I know. I wish that darn motorcycle had never hit him. Hey, here’s a Frisbee. Why don’t you go throw it around a bit, have a little fun?

  JESICA

  Okay, Dad.

  Jessica walks around the party. She throws the Frisbee to no one, then stops in her tracxks when she sees a dog.

  JESSICA

  Mr. Bones…? Is that you?

  The dog barks twiice.

  JESSICA

  Oh my gosh!! I knew you were still alive!

  Jessica runs to enbrace Mr. Bones, but then he tries to pounce on her!

  JESSICA

  Mr. Bones stop! Why are you doing this?

  Jessica notices that Mr. Bones now has a long white tale.

  JESSICA

  Wait a second…Your not alive, are you? Your a g-g- g-ghost!!! Ahhhhh!!! 1

 
Jessica starts to run, weaveing in and out of people. Mr. Bones chases and barks evilly.

  JESSICA

  Somebody help!!! My dog is a ghost!

  She runs into the arms of DAD.

  JESSICA

  Help, Daddy! Mr. Bones is back and he wants to kill me!

  DAD looks. Mr. Bones is gone.

  CLOSE-UP on Jessica, scared and confused.

  “Okay, got it. Let’s shoot this thing,” said Alicia.

  “Well, actually,” Rex said, “I just had an idea. If we wait to shoot until lots of people are sitting down, we can get a really good reaction shot from them.”

  “Yeah, that’ll be perfect,” Leif said. Though they were practically brothers at this point, Rex still felt proud when Leif complimented one of his ideas. “In that quiet moment after they say the blessing, Alicia will come by screaming, with Tucker on her heels. It’s gonna feel so real.”

  “Plus,” Alicia said, “I’m gonna deliver a highly authentic performance. I won’t be surprised if somebody steps in to rescue poor Jessica from her ghost dog.”

  “PolterDog.” Rex and Leif corrected her in unison.

  Alicia nodded and winked. “Right. PolterDog. It won’t be long before people all across North Carolina are saying that.”

  The three of them looked at each other, their excitement palpable. The deadline for the Durham Film Festival was in three weeks, and though it would get a little trickier to find time to shoot (not to mention edit) once school started, they were still on track to get PolterDog finished and submitted just under the wire.

  “All right, great,” Rex said. “So let’s save the dialogue for later and start with Tucker chasing Alici—”

  “Rex, sweetie,” Martha interrupted. “Are y’all gonna sit down and join us?”

  “Oh,” Rex said. “Yeah, Mom, in a sec, after they actually serve the food. We, uh, just have to film a quick shot for our movie.” He knew it would be wiser to give some kind of heads-up, so it didn’t seem like he was trying to pull one over on them.

  “Now? Here?”

  “It’ll be really quick. People probably won’t even notice,” Rex said, unconvincingly.

  “We’ve talked about this, son,” his dad said. “You need to spend less time on your little movie and more time practicing, so that you’re ready for basketball tryouts.”

  “I know, Dad,” Rex said, a tightness settling in the pit of his stomach, like he was six years old again and had just wet the bed. “But it’s not like I could practice here anyway.”

  “You can practice your defensive stance anywhere.” His dad dropped into a squat and stretched his hands out to his sides.

  “It’s fine, it’s fine,” Rex’s mom said, breaking the tension. “As long as you sit down with us once you’re— Oh, hey, Alicia!” Rex watched his mom’s mouth twist into the manufactured grin that Martha McClendon offered to people she had reservations about. “Didn’t see you there. How are you, hon?” She didn’t dislike Alicia, but she definitely liked Leif more. She’d once said to Rex that she didn’t trust “girls who make so many jokes.” It hadn’t helped that Alicia had been caught earlier that summer pulling down the pants of every mannequin in the display window of the Belk department store. Even though the only thing exposed was a series of smooth, mild bulges on the androgynous dummies, the store manager, Faye Johnson, had found the whole scene so scandalous that she’d fainted, toppling over a pyramid of pantyhose. Word had spread quickly throughout town that Alicia Boykins was to blame.

  “Excellent! Thanks, Mrs. McClendon,” Alicia said.

  “We’re gonna go get ready for this quick shot,” Rex said, leading Leif, Alicia, and Tucker—Leif holding tight to Tucker’s leash as he pulled and licked his lips at Alicia—away from the picnic tables. Hungry Bleak Creekians had already filled the seats and were patiently waiting for Pastor Jingle of Second Baptist to say grace, giving them the green light to gorge themselves on pig parts.

  Rex surveyed the area, holding up his hands in the shape of a box like he had seen Martin Scorsese do in a picture from the set of Goodfellas, a movie he and Leif had watched after sneaking in through the exit of the Twin Plaza theater two years before. Rex still had an occasional nightmare where he was lying in a trunk and Joe Pesci would open it up and begin stabbing him. He never told Leif.

  “All right,” Rex said with a firm nod, trying to seem like he’d had some directorly epiphany. “I’ll stay over here, just past the tables, and you guys head all the way back over there toward the parking lot entrance. As soon as Pastor Jingle finishes saying grace, I’ll throw up my hand and you’ll start running.”

  “I’ll have Tucker by the collar until I see your signal,” Leif said.

  “Right. Then Tucker will run, and Alicia, you’ll be screaming and saying your line.”

  “Yep,” Alicia said.

  “All right, all right.” C.B. Donner’s voice crackled through the sound system. “It’s the moment we’ve all been waitin’ for. Chef Whitewood, if you please…” C.B. pointed to Whitewood, who, with a flourish, lifted the cover of the grill. “His glorious pig hath been cooked!” C.B. said, to cheers from the crowd. “I’d like to introduce Pastor Jingle and our special guest today, Pastor Mitchell, from First Baptist. They’re gonna say grace…together.”

  A murmur rippled through the crowd. Pastor Mitchell’s presence was notable, seeing as a main tenet of the Second Baptist Church was the silent judgment of congregants of the First (and vice versa), to which Rex and his family belonged. No one could remember why it had once seemed so necessary to start another church, especially one that held to the same precepts as the first, but that did little to temper the hushed rivalry. In fact, Whitewood’s barbecue was likely the only reason that so many Firsters had shown up and donated six dollars to an organization they despised. This surprise tag-team blessing may have been Second Baptist’s way of thanking them for coming. Or, it may have been more about establishing a subtle yet united front against the Presbyterian church that had just been built outside of town. Either way, no one had seen this level of cooperation between Pastor Mitchell and Pastor Jingle since they both insisted that the Bleak Creek High School chorus not perform John Lennon’s “Imagine” at their regional competition.

  “We gotta get going or we’ll miss our moment,” Rex said, trying not to be thrown by the dual prayer or by Sheriff Lawson, whom he’d noticed standing by the tables, his hands rubbing his bulbous gut like he was preparing his stomach for the imminent feast. Shooting a movie in public without a permit wasn’t an arrestable offense, was it? Guess he’d find out soon enough. “Head over there, and as soon as I signal, you go.”

  Alicia nodded, and as they started to walk away—the pastors walking into position and C.B. Donner telling all the women in the crowd that leopard print seat covers were twenty-five percent off through Labor Day—Leif stopped.

  “Wait!” he said. “We need to put the ghost tail on Tucker.”

  Rex frantically dug in his backpack, mortified that he’d forgotten something so vital. He passed Leif the white felt tail and a roll of Scotch tape and breathed a sigh of relief as he watched him stick it on, realizing how close they’d come to disaster. It wouldn’t be PolterDog if the dog wasn’t poltered.

  After Leif used what looked to be half the roll of tape to firmly secure the tail, he and Alicia jogged with ghost Tucker to their starting spot as Pastor Jingle, a rail-thin man who blinked a lot, began to speak. “Hello and thank you, everyone, for being here today. As you may have heard, Pastor Mitchell of First Baptist has been kind enough to join us to say grace during this pipeless time.” He gestured to Pastor Mitchell, a round, handsome man with a dark beard. (Rex had always thought he looked like a fatter, more conservative George Michael.)

  “It is a blessing to be here as we unite for such an important Baptist cause,” Pastor Mitchell said in his dee
p, familiar voice. The emphasis on Baptist was hard to miss. “Let us pray.”

  “We thank you, Heavenly Father,” Pastor Jingle said, “for this delicious barbecue and for providing us with so capable a grillmaster.”

  “Yes, Lord,” Pastor Mitchell said, as Rex looked into the camcorder and adjusted the lens, zooming in and out on Alicia to properly frame the shot. “Though First Baptist has many capable grillmasters as well, we are grateful to be here to benefit from the talents of Mr. Whitewood.”

  “Indeed, since we all know Mr. Whitewood is the most capable,” Pastor Jingle added. “And, Lord, we also ask that you open the hearts of those present and compel them to give generously, even beyond the minimum six-dollar donation, to help restore the wonderful sound of praise-filled pipes to your house.”

  “And, dear Lord, maybe even more importantly,” Pastor Mitchell interjected, “we ask you to open the hearts of those at Second Baptist to installing a state-of-the-art security system like the one we have at First Baptist to prevent Wendell from stealing their precious pipes yet again.” Rex didn’t hear what Pastor Jingle said next, or what Pastor Mitchell said after that, because, as he took in the features of Alicia’s face, he was distracted by a ping in his chest. He found himself fixated on the gentle curve of her lips.

  He was snapped out of it, though, when he realized Pastor Jingle had just said Jesus, more than likely as part of the phrase “In Jesus’ name,” which was always the last thing said before “Amen.” Rex went to throw a panicky hand in the air when he realized the pastors were still dueling.

  Phew. It must have just been a random Jesus mention.

  Rex couldn’t believe how disoriented he’d gotten in such a crucial moment. And because of Alicia? He shook it off, knowing he needed to focus, and gave a confident thumbs-up to Leif and Alicia, like Get ready and also like Everything’s under control, I wasn’t just distracted by the beauty of someone who’s been my best friend for years. Not wanting to accidentally forget later, Rex pressed the red record button, and, knowing the “In Jesus’ name” was coming any second now, held his signal hand at the ready.