What You Know Is True

Chapter Two

It’s been a few weeks since school let out for the summer and I was already losing it. I liked being able to sleep in late, but I wanted to do more than stay attached to my bed.

So Nixon and I were heading to Wornall to check out the stores. Here’s another truth: I dig vintage stuff and weird, old items. My room was filled of what Louie called “junk.” First issued records from the 50’s-60’s (I’m not afraid to admit I listen to a lot of old girl groups music), war photos, B-movie posters . . . all that. That’s why I wanted to go to Wornall ‘cause there was a new, hippie store opening. Nixon was only tagging along because his cousin was coming to town, and his mom ordered him to find a welcoming gift for her. Other than that, he didn’t hang around that area too much. He felt like it was another Westport with its breeding, privileged hipsters. I don’t know about that, so my apologies to any who fall into that category. If it makes you feel better, yes, he was named after the late president.

I was lounging across the loveseat in the livingroom and mindlessly watching some sitcom. My brain had already died from the stupidity, so I wasn’t paying much attention anymore.

Someone came running down the stairs and asked, “You going out?”I looked up and it was Louie.

“Yeah?”

“With Nixon?”

“Yeah?”

He straightened his posture and I swore his eyes brightened. He always wore these lime green eye contacts that made him look more like an anime character than he already did. I was ready to say no but I responded too slowly.

“Can you drop me off at Tate’s house?” he asked.

“Ask mom.”

“Mom told me to ask you ‘cause you were leaving.”

“Missouri law states that a driver under 19 cannot drive with more than 3 people who are under 19 and who aren’t part of their immediate family,” I half quoted. Half of it’s right, I thought.

“So? It’s not that far!” A car honked outside and I glanced between the curtains. Nixon and his beat up car were in the driveway. I shuffled up to the door, Louie trailing behind me.

“Ask Nixon,” I grumbled. Nixon would say yes, because he actually liked Louie and didn’t care about my opinion.

Like I mentioned before, Nixon was the only person beside Chasha I called my friend. Been that way since 4th grade. He was more laidback than Chasha, and always seemed to have a distant look on his face like he was complementing the meaning of life. Mostly likely he was thinking about food.

Louie rushed out before I could warn Nixon. I knew Nixon agreed when Louie hopped in the backseat.

“You should’ve said no,” I told Nixon when I got in. He turned the radio up some and swiped his nose.

“Hey to you too. Louie, where we going?” Nixon said. What I liked about Nixon was, he seemed to be stuck in the 80s, fashion wise, and yet managed to pull it off without looking like a bum. He kept his hair shaved and squared off on the sides with a curly afro on top. 

“On Eveling,” Louie replied. I glanced at him in the rearview mirror and smirked.

“Aw, yeah, forgot your boyfriend lived there.” Louie yelled a few choice words and tried to punch me before Nixon yelled at us both to put our seatbelts on. 

The radio played on and Louie was forgotten as we drove. All the houses started to look more colonial-style with American flags out front, with overgrown lawns and dirty streets. It was weird. You have these nice houses that were in the trashiest looking neighborhoods.