This is a short story based on the tween book series, The Dirt Foot Gang. Available on Amazon.
Sneaking into the Starlight
By
Betty J Crow
SUMMER 1965, Williamsport, Pennsylvania. The Starlight Drive-In glowed like a beacon against the darkening landscape. Monster movies on a giant screen, the crackle of speakers, and the smell of hot buttered popcorn floated on the night air. But at thirteen, none of the Dirt Foot Gang—Logan, Pudge, Will, and Cotton—could drive. Tickets were a buck a head, and their pooled allowance came up forty cents short for The Creature from the Black Lagoon.
The boys checked the area to see if they could sneak in. Logan crouched behind the old oak at the edge of the gravel lot. “We go around to the back fence. Chain-link’s loose on the far side by the woods. We slip through, stay low between the cars, and find spots on the ground to watch.”
Pudge wiped sweat from his round face. “What about Angus? He’ll bark at everything.”
“I’ll make sure he’s quiet,” Cotton said.
Angus thumped his tail like he understood.
AFTER SUPPER, they biked the long way around the drive-in, ditching the bikes deep in the brush. The fence line was overgrown with weeds and shadowed by tall elms.
Logan found the loose fence section, lifting it enough for the others to crawl under.
Pudge went first, grunting as his shirt snagged. Will followed, then Cotton with Angus tucked under one arm like a football. The dog stayed surprisingly still. Logan slid through last, letting the fence drop back into place with a soft clink.
Inside the lot, rows of cars faced the glowing screen. The cartoon already played. The boys moved like shadows, darting from car to car, keeping down so their heads stayed below the taillights.
They stopped in front of a big station wagon parked close to the screen, the family inside already laughing at the show, and stretched out on their bellies in the grass.
Will used their money to purchase a bag of popcorn and some licorice from the snack bar.
They watched as the creature rose from the lagoon in glorious black-and-white. The audience gasped and cheered. For a while it was perfect—until the flashlight appeared.
Mr. Hargrove, the lot attendant with a zero-tolerance glare, swept his beam between the rows. He’d caught sneak-ins before and made them pull weeds for a month.
“Heads down!” Logan hissed.
Pudge shifted and bumped his head on the vehicle’s bumper with a dull thud. The beam swung his way.
“Hey! Who’s there?” the man asked.
Pudge bolted. Angus thought it was a chase game and barked once before Cotton clamped a hand over his snout. Logan, Will, and Cotton scrambled to their feet and ran in different directions, zigzagging between cars and speaker poles.
“Split up!” Cotton called.
Flashlight beams bounced behind them. A horn honked. Someone yelled, “Kids these days!” Popcorn spilled across the gravel. Logan dove under a low Buick, scraping his elbows. Angus belly-crawled in beside him, tail thumping excitedly. Hargrove’s heavy boots crunched past, close enough to smell his cigar.
They regrouped behind the snack bar, breathing hard, shirts dirty, and Cotton clutching a handful of licorice.
“Movie’s half over anyway,” Logan said, grinning despite the scrape on his arm. “Since we’ll never make it to the back fence, we wait for the cars to leave and walk out beside them.”
They did exactly that—heading for the exit, heads down, Angus trotting like he belonged. Hargrove stood at the gate, scanning faces, but the boys slipped past on the far side of a pickup truck.
Back at the bikes in the woods, they whooped quietly, punching shoulders and trading stories. The night air felt cool against their flushed faces as they pedaled home under the stars.
“Best zero dollars we ever spent,” Cotton declared.
Logan laughed. “Next time we hit the double feature. The Dirt Foot Gang’s got a whole summer of monsters ahead.”
For tonight, four boys and one dog outsmarted the Starlight and lived to tell the tale.
