The Lost Causes of Bleak Creek(32)

There were a couple dozen other Bleak Creek kids that Alicia knew, the youngest seeming around ten years old, the oldest a high school senior named Todd something. But the others—maybe forty students, as well as her roommate—were complete strangers. Alicia had never really stopped to consider whether there were students from out of town at Whitewood, but that was clearly the case. However, none of them—whether Bleak Creekians or outsiders—had made any effort to connect with her at all. She figured this was just the way things were at Whitewood, but she also knew that her particular offense—injuring the headmaster himself—had made her a special brand of untouchable. She was the blackest sheep in a herd of black sheep.

Maybe this stand she was taking was incredibly foolish. Maybe she should just follow, or at least pretend to. But she felt like it was more important to not lose her grip on who she was, even if it would ensure her a longer stay in this hell. And she was still holding out a glimmer of hope that maybe, just maybe, bucking the system this way would allow her to find the school’s Achilles’ heel, which could be her ticket out of there. It was unlikely. But she had to keep believing.

The sunlight was gone now.

After another thirty minutes of resisting, Alicia finally let herself relax, warm urine spilling into her jumpsuit.





9


JANINE STROLLED DOWN Walnut Street, the sidewalk still wet from the previous night’s thunderstorm. She passed an elderly lady sitting on her front porch, the old woman’s head swiveling to track her as she crossed the width of her yard. Janine had always seemed to attract these kinds of stares in Bleak Creek, a town with a knack for identifying outsiders. Of course, she was making that a particularly easy task with her camera bag, black leggings, cutoff jorts, combat boots, and off-the-shoulder gray T-shirt that gave all Bleak Creekians a pristine view of her left collarbone. She offered a friendly wave to the woman, who reflexively waved back, never losing her quizzical expression.

After Janine had learned that Donna was a former Whitewood student, she’d made the decision to stick around town. She had to learn more about this strange institution, about what had happened there to transform her cousin into a shell of her former self. Naturally, she’d first tried to talk to Donna, striding to the back of Li’l Dino’s even before her lightheadedness had gone away (and before offering to help Big Gary clean up his stones), where Donna made it clear that yes, she went to that school, and no, she didn’t want to talk about it.

Janine refused to be discouraged. Screw a movie about old people’s kidney stones. This was the film she needed to make, whether or not her cousin was down to participate. She’d asked Tommy, the pimply-faced server, if she could interview him, but Big Gary—still furious over his spilled treasures—had ordered her to get out of his restaurant before he called the cops, which had only confirmed Janine’s suspicions that she was onto something. She’d slipped Tommy her number (well, GamGam’s number) on a scrap of placemat, and, to her surprise, he’d called that night. Which is how Janine now found herself walking the quarter mile from her grandmother’s house to the home of Tommy Dowd.

Janine pressed the doorbell and listened as it triggered a rising and falling sequence of chimes. Before the doorbell stopped ringing, Tommy answered the door.

“Uh, hi,” the boy said, seeming surprised that she’d actually shown up.

“Hey, Tommy. Where should I set up?”

“Um…”

“My camera,” Janine said, gesturing to her bag.

“Oh, uh…let’s go to the backyard.”

Janine followed Tommy around the side of the house, passing a large German shepherd chained to a pole, the dog growling but unwilling to deliver a proper bark. They finally arrived at two mildewed lawn chairs Tommy thought would be perfect for their talk.

“So, how long were you at the Whitewood School?” Janine asked once the camera was rolling.

“Uh, I…Well, I…” Tommy began, clearly uneasy. “I think it was about four months.”

“Tell me about your time there. How are students…reformed?”

“It was, um, really good for me,” Tommy said. “I learned how to, um, respect my, uh…elders.” Janine noticed that Tommy’s eyes were darting between the ground and somewhere on her clothes. Just like Donna, she thought. Unable to make eye contact. Then it hit her. He’s looking at my shoulder. Janine had failed to consider how something as innocuous as the collarbone of a mysterious older woman could derail a teen boy’s thoughts. That’s why he agreed to this meeting.

“But what happens specifically at the school? How do they…change you?” Janine pressed.

“Um, I’m sorry,” Tommy began muttering, having now developed the courage to lock in directly on her shoulder. “I’d rather not talk about that. But like I said, it was, um, really really good for me.”

Janine pulled her T-shirt up over her shoulder. Tommy’s face reddened.

“Is that part of the deal? You’re not supposed to talk about what happens at Whitewood?” Janine pushed further.

Tommy was squirming even more, and not just because his wandering eyes had been exposed. “I think I should go back inside. Thank you, um, Ms. Blitstein.” He stood up abruptly and stiffly jogged back to the screened back door.