Jump Cut by Ted Staunton Page A

did u look yet? tel me . I flip back through his messages, and there it is: a photo of his tattoo. It’s a weird one. Instead of a mosquito with a cigar and a machine gun, there’s a striped number fifteen and, beside it, a birthday candle that I guess is supposed to be blown out. What the…? Maybe Bun chose it instead because he’s fifteen. Who knows? Right now I’m so bummed I don’t really care. I text back, very cool what will u get when u r 16? I skip the messages from Deb and Jer and shut off the phone. Having my whole pretend “adventure” stage-managed by Grandpa is bad enough; I don’t need parents looking over my shoulder too.
    I stare at Highway 400 and wonder if I should just try hitchhiking home. Maybe that would be an adventure. Then I get a better idea: if GL wants a movie, she can have one. Only this one is going to show the whole thing for the load of bull it really is.
    I lug Mister Bones back to the car and get my new video camera from the trunk, where it’s nestled between the icing sugar—or whatever—and the gas cylinder. Mister Bones and I head back to the shade. When I take the camera out of its case, Grandpa’s second envelope falls out. I stuff it back in. It hardly matters now. Anyway, it’s probably a ticket to a Disney movie and money for an ice-cream cone.
    At least the camera is very cool. It has HD and an extra powerful zoom. I take off the lens cap and hit the Power button. The battery is charged up; I’d done that to get ready for this morning. On the view screen, I see the toes of my Converse One Stars. I raise the camera, bend over the screen and do a slow sweep around the parking lot. Cars pulling in and out, people stretching, taking little kids by the hand, a couple of other people with dogs.
    I keep going until I get the Caddy in the shot, way across the baking asphalt. Then the whole scene is blanked out as a black Lincoln Navigator with tinted windows rolls past my lens. So I track it all the way to the far bay of the gas bar. I try the zoom, just a little. The driver gets out and goes to the pump. He’s superskinny, in a preppy navy blazer, khakis and a pink shirt. He looks like Adrien Brody with boat shoes. Then a guy who looks like King Kong in a polo shirt gets out of the passenger side and helps a little old man out of the backseat. I zoom in more. The old dude is wearing a red blazer and a yellow shirt with a green tie and a snappy white straw hat. His shoes match his hat. Down by my ankles, Mister Bones begins to growl.

FIFTEEN
    As King Kong and the old man shuffle in one door of the service center, I pull back and pick up AmberLea, GL and a bulky guy coming out another. The guy’s in a Toronto Maple Leafs cap and a green T-shirt with white blobs that spell Ontario Rocks . Mister Bones stops growling. I zoom in tight this time. Ontario Rocks is Al. What was left of the mustache is gone. Mister Bones perks up right away and starts yipping. Al’s head swivels, and they come over to us.
    â€œWhattaya filming?” Al asks suspiciously.
    â€œIs my hair right?” says GL. “Never shoot without setup, Stanley.”
    â€œJust getting some real life .” I make it sound as sarcastic as possible.
    â€œLemme see.” Al peers at the screen. GL crowds in with him. I play it back. Al’s eyes widen as the black Lincoln comes into focus. As the old man gets helped out of the car, Al blurts out some foreign words that I’m pretty sure are obscene.
    GL says, “Well, what a coincidence. There’s Rocco Wings. You’d think the old devil was following me.”
    It hits me that it’s the old guy from Erie Estates, only without the big glasses. Did she arrange this too? Wow, it’s getting complicated.
    â€œHe’s not following you.” Al is practically hyperventilating as he looks over to the SUV . “He’s following me . Those are the guys who wanna ice me.”