What You Know Is True

“You gonna draw something on the wall today?” Sean questioned as he rolled to a stop on his skateboard. “Y’know that old park ranger likes stalking us. He’s been waiting to catch you in the act.”

“I thought he died,” I said, and I didn’t really care. I wasn’t gonna do any graffiti today.

Nixon and I were hanging out at the skate park with Sean Riley and two other dudes. We left once the ramps started to be invaded by a bunch of elementary school kids who were having a birthday party nearby. We weren’t in the mood to push them out or deal with their parents

Away from the skate park was a small underpass. It was rundown and not too many people knew of it, saved for the stoners and the loners who hung out there sometimes. Some spots on the walls were covered by spray-painted drawings and words. One of the images was mine. It was a simple outline of some person with half their head blown off. Where blood should be gushing out was stars and constellations and plants.

I don’t remember why I had drawn it. I’m not a trippy artist like Scribe or make political messages like Banksy. When people find out I draw their first question is am I going to art school or have I entered any contests. I’d tell them ‘no’ to both. At the most I was decent, and art school just wasn’t appealing to me.

After a while the guys and I decided to walk on the park trail. Every once in awhile a girl would pass by, and Sean or one of the others would make some smart remarks under their breath. I ignored them, and honestly, every girl that passed by reminded me of Lotzie. Thinking of her made me think of last night.

I couldn’t believe I seriously did that.

Nixon nudged my arm and pointed toward the pond. I glanced over and there was Lotzie, hanging by the pond with two other girls and Kevin. We had to walk pass them to get to the other side. I was more than willing to jump in the pond and swim with the ducks instead.

Lotzie turned around and saw me. If she was still mad at me, she didn’t show it. She smiled politely and turned back to her friends.

I swallowed dryly and called out, “Lochelle.” Her shoulders stiffened as she faced me again, a scowl on her face. Hardly anyway, except her parents, called her by her real name anymore.

“I gotta talk to you,” I said. Lotzie told her friends she’d be back, and we walked a little ways toward a giant oak tree for more privacy.

“Sorry about last night,” I said quickly, looking her over. She had her hands clasped in front of her and an indifferent expression. No lovestruck eyes or actions that said my witchcraft act worked on her. I pretended I hadn’t felt any disappointment.

“I wasn’t feeling too hot,” I went on, coughing till my throat wasn’t so itchy. God, I swear, Lotzie was the only girl I’ve ever had trouble apologizing to. And I rarely apologized to anyone.

Lotzie smiled and I was tempted to sneer. That’s all she ever did. Smiled and forgive. I used to admire her for that, be jealous of her. Wished I was that forgiving.

“It’s fine, really,” she said. Her eyes were big and brown, heightened by gold eye shadow. She looked beautiful with or without it. I wondered what it was like to be her and wake up knowing you’re not ugly.

“I just still . . . you know. Care about you.” Somehow it was all turning into a teen romantic flick. But it was true, I did. I was pathetic like that.

Her smile disappeared and her arms fell to her side. “You need to stop. We
can’t . . . you can get any girl you want.”

I had to check behind me to make sure she wasn’t talking to someone else. Any girl I wanted. She made it sound like I was kissing them left and right when I only wanted to kiss her.

And I did. I kissed Lotzie, one and a half second before she shoved me off.

“The hell.” It wasn’t her who said it, but Kevin, who had wandered to find us. Next thing I knew, I was dodging and throwing punches at Kevin’s face.

Kevin kneed me in the stomach and my breath stopped abruptly as my throat closed up. He began tossing me around before I swung my arm. My knuckles connected with his jaw, and, God, I thought I hit a brick wall the way my arm vibrated.

“Stop. Stop!” Lotzie screamed. She could’ve had a megaphone and I still wouldn’t have heard her. I tried to get Kevin in a headlock, but the shit could actually fight. I was aiming for his throat when someone pulled me back.

“Get off.” I tried to swing at the person but they held me tight.

“Dallas.” It was Nixon, and he was pissed. “Calm down.”

Blood rushed through my veins and out the small scraps I had on my hands now. My face ached, but I imagined I looked better than Kevin. His skin was dark blue and purple, with blood seeping out his busted lips. Lotzie cradled his face and I wanted to scream at her to stop.

She looked at me with so much disgust, like I killed a kid and bragged about it. My stomach dropped, all the weight making my knees wobbled. I would’ve fell if Nixon weren’t still holding me up still.

Lotzie walked a few paces to me, lips in a tight line and her body shaking. “This is why I can’t stand you. This is why people hate you.”

Her shooting me would’ve been better than her saying that.

x x x x

Though Nixon kept saying he would take me home, I insisted on walking. I didn’t want to be near anyone.

I didn’t really think that much on the walk home. I was too distracted by my stomach quenching like I might puke. Usually after a fight, I’m giddy and I wanna run around and trash things, toss a few guys around, act like I’m high. This time was a bad trip. I kept telling myself to stop being a pansy. Who cared what Lotzie and her boy thought?

When I finally got home, Mom’s car wasn’t in the driveway. I was hoping Louie would be gone too, but he was watching TV in the livingroom when I got in. He sat up quickly and I was going to ask him if I interrupted his alone time with his hand. Then I saw he was watching some Vietnam war documentary and realized no one could jerk off to that, even as a cover up.

“What happened to you?” He got up and walked over to me, but I went pass him into the kitchen. “Dallas, what happened?”

“Fought with Lotzie’s boyfriend,” I replied. I grabbed a bottle of water from the fridge and chugged it down. “I’m an idiot.”

“Everyone knows that.”

I made like I was pointing a gun at him and said, “Don’t get smart.” Louie shrugged and went into the bathroom in the hallway. He came back with the first aid kid.

I took it from him and sat it on the counter. I washed my hands and my face with a damp cloth first, and tried spraying some stuff from the kit on my hands. The scratches started bleeding afterwards.

“Let me,” Louie persisted. I couldn’t bother to tell him off, so I let him. He worked quickly, and even though my face and hands felt cleaner, my whole body still felt sore.

“You’re such a mom,” I blurted. It amazed me sometimes how different Louie and I turned out to be, yet we grew up the same. He shrugged and suddenly his moments became more timid.

“What you been doing all day?” I asked. I hadn’t seen at him breakfast or before I had left with Nixon earlier.

“Nothing,” he mumbled. He stared at me a bit, a sort of lost look on his face, before he glanced away and cleaned up the kit. “I’m done. Your face is gonna look gross in the morning,”

I would’ve punched him – kid was getting too smart for his own good. But I sat there and studied my knuckles instead.

There was a question that was bothering me, and though Louie was the worst person to ask, he was the most honest.

“Am I really that horrible?” I asked, and I hated the nauseated feeling that came when I did. “Do people really hate me that much?”

Louie leaned against the counter and hummed. “You can be an ass,” he said eventually, and added quickly, “You have a personality people need to get used to.”

“I don’t like people too much either, so I guess it doesn’t matter,” I told him. I wondered if it sounded as pitiful as it felt.

Louie laughed uneasily and scratched his head uncomfortable. “I don’t. I mean, I don’t hate you. I still like you if that matters.”

“You’re so queer.”

“I’m not.” His eyebrows furrowed, and a second later he mumbled “Whatever,” and left. I heard the TV in livingroom change to some other channel. The volume went up, and I assumed it was on the news because I heard, “Sister kills her own brother over a dispute . . .”