What You Know Is True

Chapter Four

“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 anyone, 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.