The Lost Causes of Bleak Creek(38)

“Yeah,” Leif confirmed.

“And lemme guess. These nimrods around here kept reading it and calling you Leef, so you just went with it to avoid the trouble of having to constantly correct idiots.”

“Uh, yeah,” Leif said. He’d never met anyone who had so bluntly (and accurately) stated the lifelong predicament with his name. “Pretty much exactly that.”

“Well, I’m gonna call you Layf,” Ben said. “Check it out.” He smiled at them as the hot dogs roasted on the open fire.

“That’s why you wanted the rake and the hot dogs?” Rex asked, in disbelief.

“Pretty great, right?” Ben said. “We’re all gonna eat well tonight. Leif, would you mind taking over hot dog duty for a bit?”

“Oh,” Leif said, thinking there was some kind of catch here, that maybe it was a trap. But it did look kind of fun to cook that many hot dogs at once. “Sure.” He took the rake from Ben, who grabbed the six-pack of Cheerwine and stared at it.

“I only asked for three cans,” he said.

“That’s how they sell them,” Leif said, dipping the rake into the fire and wondering why he’d never thought of using it in this way before.

“This is actually better.” Ben placed the six-pack on the ground. “Rex, could I have the fire extinguisher?” Rex handed it over, and within seconds Ben had removed the pin and was spraying it at the cans.

“Whoa,” Rex said, taking a couple steps backward. “What are you doing?”

“Do you know what the perfect soft drink temperature is?” Ben shouted over the sound of the carbon-dioxide-powered fire extinguisher.

“What?” Rex asked.

“It’s thirty-nine degrees Fahrenheit. Three and eighty-nine hundredths degrees Celsius.” A billowing white cloud surrounded the cans. “Now, we could attempt to get these cans there with a freezer. But we don’t have one. And that would take about twenty-five minutes, anyway. A bucket of ice could do the job in about half that time. But we don’t have that either. Lucky for us, and thanks to you, we do have this fire extinguisher, which will get these cans to the perfect temperature in less…than…one…minute.” The spray ran out. Ben reached into the white cloud, his hand reappearing with a Cheerwine. He cracked it open and took a sip. “Ahh, perfect. I’ve been dying for one of these.”

The spray dissipated, and soon Leif could again see past his nose. “We brought you a fire extinguisher so you could have a cold Cheerwine?”

“Yep, and I really appreciate it. You should both help yourselves to two of them. And I think you can take the dogs out. They’re probably ready.”

The longer they were with him, the more Leif became convinced that Ben wouldn’t, in fact, murder them. He removed the rake from the flame and handed it to Ben as Rex cracked open two cans and handed one to Leif.

“This really is the perfect temperature,” Rex said, wiping Cheerwine off his lips. “So, what do you know about the Whitewood School?”

Ben stopped chewing the first bite of hot dog he’d just taken directly from the rake.

“You should both grab a frank and join me in my quarters.” Ben rested the rake on a log before walking into the crude lean-to he’d built against the Tree.

Rex and Leif looked at each other before each grabbing a hot dog and walking underneath the branches. Following Ben’s lead, they sat cross-legged on the ground. It was a tight space. All their knees were touching.

“Since you did this noble act for me,” Ben said, “I consider you my friends. And as your friend, I would like to entrust you with my secret.”

Leif and Rex leaned forward.

“Last week, I escaped from the Whitewood School.”

Ben took a long sip of Cheerwine.

“You…escaped?” Leif asked, his eyes wide.

“What do you mean?” Rex asked. “What were you escaping from?”

“Death, I believe,” Ben said.

“What?” Leif was hit by a full-body shiver.

Rex didn’t want to believe his story, but since Ben was already defying all reasonable expectations by living in the woods and cooling down Cheerwine with a fire extinguisher, he found himself shaken. “Death? Come on,” Rex said.

Ben unwound the bloody bandage on his hand and showed them what was underneath. “Look.”

Leif and Rex both felt queasy as they stared at a deep, still partially open wound traversing Ben’s palm. “Oh my gosh,” Leif said, covering his mouth. “They did that to you at the school?”

Ben nodded solemnly.

“You should go to a hospital, man,” Rex said.

“I can’t. I can’t go anywhere.”

“Okay, okay, hold on a second.” Rex held his hands up in the air, more terrified than he wanted to admit. “What grade are you in? Maybe you went to Whitewood, but I don’t remember you from our school before that. Do you, Leif?”

Leif examined Ben carefully. “I don’t think so.”

“I’m supposed to be entering ninth grade. But you wouldn’t know me because I was homeschooled.”

“So if you escaped,” Leif said, “why don’t you go back home?”

“Because my dad will just send me back to Whitewood.” Ben began to slowly wind the bandage around his hand.