Rhett McLaughlin - The Lost Causes of Bleak Creek

“Oh, thanks, it’s for our—” Leif was about to say movie until he saw Rex staring him down. “Fundraiser. Well, not our fundraiser. But this fundraiser. That we’re all attending now.”

“Well, okay.” Rex’s mom had gotten used to her son and his best friend saying inscrutable things. “Is your mom comin’ by?”

“No, ma’am, she’s at work,” Leif said. His mom had three jobs, which meant Leif was usually on his own. Rex loved this, as it meant Leif was always around to hang, as had been the case that whole summer.

“Looks like folks are startin’ to sit down,” Rex’s dad said, wiping sweat from his bald head with his black and white McClendon-McClemmon Funeral Home handkerchief, and pointing to the two people who’d taken a seat. “Shouldn’t be long now till we eat.”

“Hey,” Rex said to Leif under his breath as they walked toward the tables. “You got any deodorant on you?”

“Any what?”

“Deodorant.” Rex looked around to see who was listening, realizing that maybe he wasn’t so different from his mom after all.

“Why?” Leif asked.

“Like, to use.”

“You want to use my deodorant?”

“Yes. Yes, I do.”

“Oh.” Leif stared at Rex as if seeing him for the first time, like he’d just discovered some long-buried truth about the best friend he’d known since he was six. Or maybe he’d just inhaled. “No. You think I just carry deodorant around with me?”

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.