What You Know Is True
Chapter 2
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.
Josee used to tell me how she wanted to live in a Victorian home with all her adopted huskies and optional one kid. I blinked hard till the image disappeared, and my eyelids ached from the strain. It was pointless to remember that.
“Here it is,” Louie called, and Nixon pulled up to the apartment. Louie got out, said a quick thank you, and ran off as Nixon pulled away. I saw Louie knock on the door before a gangly boy holding a soccer ball answered it and they both disappeared to the field behind the apartments.
“You should’ve said no,” I told him again.
“When you get your own car you can do whatever.”
“You mean like –“
“Don’t tell me your crimes because I want to be able to say ‘I know nothing’ when the police interrogate me,” he joked. All I was gonna say was abandon Louie in another state. But whatever.
I rest my head against the open window, air blasting through my short curls. “We’re going to that new shop on Main,” I said. Nixon just whistled, “Yessum.”
× × × ×
“What the hell is this?” Nixon exclaimed, squinting at the building. Mayell the sign read, words designed to look like the title card for a silent film.
“You sound surprised,” I laughed.
“You’re always dragging me to these freaky places, and I swear we’re gonna get sacrificed by a cult one day because of it.” This was coming from a kid who liked playing with fire and has read every book about every serial killer in the world.
I didn’t bother to question Nixon’s beliefs. I ignored him and got out of the car. Mayell seemed to blend in with all the other posh looking shops on the block, though I hoped it’d be more interesting inside. I don’t know why people found it weird I liked to cruise vintage stores. I guess I looked too “tough” for that stuff. I didn’t care what it made me look like.
We went inside and the place smelled like a candy store. There was low lighting and I thought they had a fog machine going on since it was so murky.
“Hi, can I help you?” A heavyset woman materialized beside us, her dress swishing around her feet. She kept twirling her ginger hair as she eyed me and Nixon.
“Nah, just looking,” I told her and smiled. I hoped my lucky streak from yesterday would work on her, but the lady merely raised her eyebrows and laughed.
“If you need anything just holler. Name’s Kennis.” She smiled once more before waltzing off toward a stack of CDs in a corner.
“She looked at us like we were gonna rob her or something,” Nixon huffed, stuffing his hands in his jean pockets. “I understand though. I’d be scared too if I saw you.”
I cussed at him and walked toward a section that had a sign that read 90s Alternative Music. I browsed through donated CDs and found some rare EPs from certain bands. They generally sold for a lot online, but these were pretty cheap. I picked out four and continued browsing.
“Don’t you feel weird wearing used stuff?” Nixon asked, eyeing a rack of clothes.
“That’s why you wash them before you wear ‘em.” Nixon made a gagging noise. Even though he owned a few used clothing himself, the thought still bugged him. In his eyes, germs were forever no matter how much you washed an outfit.
The store had a small book section. Nothing major, just old bibles and Disney Channel book series like That’s So Raven and Hannah Montana. I spotted a large book with a faded gold spine on the top shelf and grabbed it. It was about the size of those giant dictionaries schools had. Some of the loose pages were sticking out. The cover was black with no title or author, though It probably just worn off.
I opened it to a random page and saw it was tiny text, some of the words faded or smudged. The page I landed on talked about how to create an amulet to “repeal bad spirits.” The whole book was like that, full of spells, I guessed. How to cause sadness, wealth, talk to a deceased family member, summon your spirit guide, a demon –
Everything. And I was probably more giddy about it than I should’ve been.
I found Kennis at the front fixing a display and asked her how much the book was. The smile she had when she turned to look at me quickly fell. “Where did you get that?” Her voice was low, hard, and I shuffled the book under my arm.
“In the book section ---?” Kennis snatched it from me and placed it on the counter.
“I’m sorry. It’s not for sale. Jerome must’ve put it there by mistake. I’m going to get that kid,” she muttered, staring at the book till I thought it might burst into flames. “Not for sale.”
I put my hands up and walked backwards. “It’s cool.” I wasn’t about to try to haggle for it. Kennis looked like she might kick me if I did.
I really wanted that book.
I pretended I was still browsing, but kept my eye on Kennis and the book. She never moved the book, and when I saw her wander off into a room, I stride up to the counter. I took the book and sprinted out of there. Nixon called my name but I kept moving till I was at his car. When he was beside me I rushed him to unlock the door.
“What’s going on?” he asked as we got into the car. I placed the book on my lap and that was enough for Nixon to start up the car and step on the gas pedal.
“Most kids steal jewelry or money,” Nixon began. “You steal a book. From a thrift store.”
I’m not an average kid, was all I thought. I leaned the seat back and propped my feet on the dashboard, the book on my lap.
It wasn’t till I got home and did a little searching online that I found out the proper name for the book: Grimnoire, a textbook of magic. I don’t know why Kennis looked so troubled about it, but I was excited, in that geeky way like when someone buys a new videogame. I held the Grimoire tightly in my hands and figured it was a good steal.
If only I hadn’t.
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.
Josee used to tell me how she wanted to live in a Victorian home with all her adopted huskies and optional one kid. I blinked hard till the image disappeared, and my eyelids ached from the strain. It was pointless to remember that.
“Here it is,” Louie called, and Nixon pulled up to the apartment. Louie got out, said a quick thank you, and ran off as Nixon pulled away. I saw Louie knock on the door before a gangly boy holding a soccer ball answered it and they both disappeared to the field behind the apartments.
“You should’ve said no,” I told him again.
“When you get your own car you can do whatever.”
“You mean like –“
“Don’t tell me your crimes because I want to be able to say ‘I know nothing’ when the police interrogate me,” he joked. All I was gonna say was abandon Louie in another state. But whatever.
I rest my head against the open window, air blasting through my short curls. “We’re going to that new shop on Main,” I said. Nixon just whistled, “Yessum.”
× × × ×
“What the hell is this?” Nixon exclaimed, squinting at the building. Mayell the sign read, words designed to look like the title card for a silent film.
“You sound surprised,” I laughed.
“You’re always dragging me to these freaky places, and I swear we’re gonna get sacrificed by a cult one day because of it.” This was coming from a kid who liked playing with fire and has read every book about every serial killer in the world.
I didn’t bother to question Nixon’s beliefs. I ignored him and got out of the car. Mayell seemed to blend in with all the other posh looking shops on the block, though I hoped it’d be more interesting inside. I don’t know why people found it weird I liked to cruise vintage stores. I guess I looked too “tough” for that stuff. I didn’t care what it made me look like.
We went inside and the place smelled like a candy store. There was low lighting and I thought they had a fog machine going on since it was so murky.
“Hi, can I help you?” A heavyset woman materialized beside us, her dress swishing around her feet. She kept twirling her ginger hair as she eyed me and Nixon.
“Nah, just looking,” I told her and smiled. I hoped my lucky streak from yesterday would work on her, but the lady merely raised her eyebrows and laughed.
“If you need anything just holler. Name’s Kennis.” She smiled once more before waltzing off toward a stack of CDs in a corner.
“She looked at us like we were gonna rob her or something,” Nixon huffed, stuffing his hands in his jean pockets. “I understand though. I’d be scared too if I saw you.”
I cussed at him and walked toward a section that had a sign that read 90s Alternative Music. I browsed through donated CDs and found some rare EPs from certain bands. They generally sold for a lot online, but these were pretty cheap. I picked out four and continued browsing.
“Don’t you feel weird wearing used stuff?” Nixon asked, eyeing a rack of clothes.
“That’s why you wash them before you wear ‘em.” Nixon made a gagging noise. Even though he owned a few used clothing himself, the thought still bugged him. In his eyes, germs were forever no matter how much you washed an outfit.
The store had a small book section. Nothing major, just old bibles and Disney Channel book series like That’s So Raven and Hannah Montana. I spotted a large book with a faded gold spine on the top shelf and grabbed it. It was about the size of those giant dictionaries schools had. Some of the loose pages were sticking out. The cover was black with no title or author, though It probably just worn off.
I opened it to a random page and saw it was tiny text, some of the words faded or smudged. The page I landed on talked about how to create an amulet to “repeal bad spirits.” The whole book was like that, full of spells, I guessed. How to cause sadness, wealth, talk to a deceased family member, summon your spirit guide, a demon –
Everything. And I was probably more giddy about it than I should’ve been.
I found Kennis at the front fixing a display and asked her how much the book was. The smile she had when she turned to look at me quickly fell. “Where did you get that?” Her voice was low, hard, and I shuffled the book under my arm.
“In the book section ---?” Kennis snatched it from me and placed it on the counter.
“I’m sorry. It’s not for sale. Jerome must’ve put it there by mistake. I’m going to get that kid,” she muttered, staring at the book till I thought it might burst into flames. “Not for sale.”
I put my hands up and walked backwards. “It’s cool.” I wasn’t about to try to haggle for it. Kennis looked like she might kick me if I did.
I really wanted that book.
I pretended I was still browsing, but kept my eye on Kennis and the book. She never moved the book, and when I saw her wander off into a room, I stride up to the counter. I took the book and sprinted out of there. Nixon called my name but I kept moving till I was at his car. When he was beside me I rushed him to unlock the door.
“What’s going on?” he asked as we got into the car. I placed the book on my lap and that was enough for Nixon to start up the car and step on the gas pedal.
“Most kids steal jewelry or money,” Nixon began. “You steal a book. From a thrift store.”
I’m not an average kid, was all I thought. I leaned the seat back and propped my feet on the dashboard, the book on my lap.
It wasn’t till I got home and did a little searching online that I found out the proper name for the book: Grimnoire, a textbook of magic. I don’t know why Kennis looked so troubled about it, but I was excited, in that geeky way like when someone buys a new videogame. I held the Grimoire tightly in my hands and figured it was a good steal.
If only I hadn’t.