Rhett McLaughlin - The Lost Causes of Bleak Creek

And Dennis needed her.

“Tomorrow,” Janine said. “I come back tomorrow.”

She’d booked the flight as soon as she got off the phone, and for the first time in days, she had breathed easy. It felt right.

“Gosh,” GamGam said now, as they passed the IT ONLY GETS BLEAKER WHEN YOU LEAVE BLEAK CREEK! sign. “I sure am gonna miss having you around, Neenie.”

“I’m gonna miss you too, GamGam,” Janine said. She meant it. There wasn’t much she would miss about that screwed-up town, but she’d never felt this close to her grandmother, and it was a bummer to think that the next time they spoke, they’d be hundreds of miles apart.

Naturally, Boyz II Men’s “End of the Road” came on the radio right at that moment.

A little on the nose, universe, Janine thought as she teared up, her gaze flitting to the side-view mirror out of habit, where this time she saw genuine cause for concern. Several cars back, a vehicle was moving way faster than the speed limit, wildly weaving in and out of the oncoming traffic lane as it passed a car at a time.

Janine shuddered. It was possible it was just a reckless driver who had nothing to do with her. After all, she’d already left Bleak Creek, just like she’d been told.

But once the red car was almost directly behind GamGam’s Grand Marquis—only one vehicle remaining as a buffer between them—Janine felt confident that whoever was driving it intended to do her harm. To make sure she wouldn’t blab to the world about the Whitewood School. The way Uncle Jim had tried to.

“You might have to drive a little faster, GamGam,” Janine said, her voice shaky.

“Didn’t you say your flight’s at 2:30?” GamGam asked. “We got plenty of time, darlin’.”

“No.” Janine tried to swallow, but her mouth was too dry. “I think…I think there’s a car following us.”

“Huh?” GamGam looked into the rearview. “Oh my word! It might be that crazy Wendell Brown. Sometimes he steals a car and goes on a joyride.”

“I don’t think so,” Janine said. After learning the truth about Uncle Jim, Janine had quickly determined that this theory had never been shared with GamGam. She’d considered telling her grandmother herself but ultimately thought it wasn’t her place. Now, of course, she wished she had, as it would have made their current predicament much easier to explain. “People weren’t happy about my movie, GamGam.”

“Well, I thought that movie Basic Instincts was a piece of trash, but that don’t mean I’m about to go drivin’ down the highway after Mikey Douglas!”

“Can you just…Can you just speed up a little? Try and lose ’em?”

“For you, Neenie? Anything.” GamGam pressed down on the gas, and Janine’s head was thrust back into her headrest.

GamGam had never been a good driver, and Janine immediately felt like she’d put her life into more danger by asking her to speed, but even with GamGam’s erratic swerving, Janine was relieved to see the car fading into the distance and then turning off the road onto a side street.

“Wow, GamGam,” Janine said. “They’re gone. Nice work.” She exhaled and tried to relax, though she knew she wouldn’t fully feel better until she was taking off in that plane.

“Woohoo!” GamGam shouted into the rearview. “Eat my dust! I wish your Grandpa Chuck was here to see this.”

“Me too, GamGam,” Janine said, picturing her late Grandpa riding along with them, his eyes bugging out in terror as GamGam traveled well above the speed limit. Janine then had the morbid thought that even if Grandpa Chuck had somehow survived his heart attack in 1981, being here for GamGam’s wild driving might have finally killed him.

“I tell ya, I think I owe my drivin’ skills to Burt,” GamGam said. “You know he did all his own stunts in Smokey and the Ban — Aaaahhhhhh!”

Janine joined her grandmother in screaming as the red car shot out ahead of them from another side street, screeching to a halt and blocking their lane. GamGam slammed on the brakes and desperately cut the wheel to the right as she brought the Grand Marquis to its own, far less skillful screeching halt.

Janine’s first impulse was to grab her things and make a run for it, but she didn’t want to abandon GamGam. So instead she would stay. She would fight.

“Good Lord,” GamGam said, trying to keep a sense of humor even though she was obviously as shaken up as Janine. “All this over a movie. Some people are too sensitive.”

Janine couldn’t even speak. Horns blared behind them, as both their Grand Marquis and this strangely familiar Corolla were completely blocking the road. Her mind raced. She was about to be murdered in the middle of a country road, all for thinking it would be cool to make a movie about kidney stones. What a legacy.

She watched the door of the red car open, ready to duck in case the driver had some kind of weapon. When she saw who had been behind the wheel, though, her brain short-circuited.

The person who had been chasing Janine was…her cousin?

Donna, in one of her trademark flannel shirts, quickly reached back into the car and then held up a piece of white posterboard—styled just like the Gnome Girls title cards she used to make — with two words written on it:

Stay Bitch

Janine slowly opened her door and stepped out of the car.

“You…can’t leave,” Donna said.

“I don’t…What…” Janine was trying to make sense of what she was witnessing. Her painfully reserved cousin had stopped her from leaving town with some sort of stunt-driving move, and now she was holding up an ironically hilarious sign.

“Donna, that was very dangerous,” GamGam said, joining them on the street. “Are you drunk?”

“No, GamGam,” Donna said. “Janine, that girl was killed. Alicia. She died in a fire at the school.”

“Oh my god,” Janine said. Another dead Whitewood student. Who conveniently happened to be the one kid who had personally injured Whitewood. That girl had barely been there a week.

“How awful,” GamGam said.

“Quit blockin’ the damn road!” a woman shouted from behind them.

“But…I don’t think that’s the full story,” Donna said.

“No, of course not,” Janine said. She was almost as shocked by Donna putting together complete sentences as she was about Alicia Boykins’s death.

“This ain’t book club—move your daggone cars!” a man shouted.

“So, uh, why are you…leaving?” Donna asked. Janine could see that her cousin was growing more comfortable speaking with every word. It was like watching someone beginning to walk after an accident.

“It’s complicated,” Janine said. “I wasn’t getting anywhere with my movie. And, well, Dennis…”

“That asshole?”

Janine stared at Donna in wonder and confusion.

“GamGam told me the deal,” she said.

Janine looked to GamGam, who shrugged.

“He sounds like a piece of crap who doesn’t deserve to be mentioned in the same breath as you,” Donna continued. “Let alone date you.”

“Oh.” Having Donna, of all people, say that to her was not unlike being splashed with a bucket of ice water.

“I know I haven’t been myself for…a while now. But I’m tired of being afraid. It’s hard to…It’s hard to talk about what…happened to me.” For a moment, Janine saw the distance enter Donna’s eyes, that same disconnectedness she’d seen for years. But then she looked right at Janine, and the detachment was suddenly replaced with resolve. Janine felt as if she was looking at fifteen-year-old Donna. “But watching you with your movie, and remembering my dad…and now hearing what happened to this girl…You can’t leave. Because you might actually be able to do something about this. And I want to help.”