Said the Liar, A. Swift [inspirational books for women txt] 📗

very many people and because I can tell when people are lying even when I can't see their face, music isn't really my thing. When I do listen to songs, it's usually some techno or classical simply because it doesn't have any words and I can let my guard down. As for actors, I physically cringe when I hear any of them talk. The same goes for 'reality' tv shows and their stars. Can't stand any of them.

            I grabbed some clean clothes and changed, thinking complaining thoughts about the world and generally feeling grumpy.

            By the time I got to the kitchen to eat some breakfast, mom and dad were long gone to work. Mom's an aide for one of the schools and dad is an accountant. Nothing special there. They leave for work by eight in the morning and get back at three and four respectively. Each is really dedicated to their jobs. Dad stays up late a lot of nights making sure everything is perfect for the next day. He's a workaholic. That's the reason why, even though we have a spare bedroom that was turned into an office, his desk is in the living room. It was so that when he's working he's not off by himself for hours. The chair at the desk was empty because dad was gone now.

            So I had the apartment to myself, for which I was grateful. Sometimes I just didn't feel like being around people, even family. Really, I loved my parents. I just like having alone time to think, too. It's easier for me to work things out when I'm by myself, that way I can be completely honest. Sometimes it helps to have someone else to bounce ideas off of but I wasn't about to ask my dad if he thought it was a good plan for me to go someplace where I suspected illegal drugs would be, under-aged drinking, and possibly a riot, all of it to jazz everyone up to plan a big illegal crime spree. It wouldn't go over well.

            Before I ate I checked my cell for messages. I don't have an iphone or anything fancy like that, mine's an old gray flip-phone with a full set of letter keys on it. Old school and durable, yes. Internet access, no. It has a really crummy camera, but that's about the only feature it does have. I'm not up to date when it comes to tech. My phone was kind of a brick, but it worked and that's all I needed to know. Also, it was way less likely to get stolen because it was old. That's a bonus. However, I almost never take it with me when I go out at night anyway because I don't want anything to happen to it. Least of all someone taking pictures with it or sharing my number around. I'm pretty good at being sneaky with my hands, but so are other people. And it's probably obvious by now that I don't trust people. If it was possible for me to pickpocket then clearly others could learn the same skill.

            It surprised me a little to see that I had a message. I don't give out my number to many people so it wasn't a mystery who it might be from. A closer look confirmed that it was Leon.

            Right. Leon. The same Leon I used as an excuse the night before.

            Leon is my cousin. He's twenty five and has been living on his own since eighteen. he's got long-ish gold kind of hair and perpetual stubble. He looks like a skinny, crazy artist-type, but that's only partially accurate. Leon makes go-karts in his spare time and sells them. His official job is as a mechanic. He's not the mechanic, but he helps out and does deliveries of car parts and whatnot. He's also just about the most relaxed guy I've ever met.

            Leon's the cool guy who you can tell anything to and he won't take sides or condemn you. When he was my age he started getting into some shady stuff. I think he actually had to go to a clinic to recover after getting addicted to some drug. My mom and dad don't like to talk about it. I think they worry that I'll get involved with that same stuff. Little do they know that it's because of Leon I vowed never to do drugs. I don't even like being on prescription stuff.

            Actually my parents really trust Leon. They helped him out some because his mom, my mom's sister, lives in Florida and couldn't be there for him. He's kind of been my mentor ever since he moved in. Hardly a week goes by when I'm not over at his place at least three times. That's why mom believed that I was over there so easily. I couldn't count the number of times I've been at Leon's past midnight eating pizza, playing first person shooters, or greasing some engine to try and make it work properly. He bought me a necklace with a shark's tooth on it for my tenth birthday. I thought it was the coolest thing ever. I still wear it all the time.

            We're pretty close, Leon and I.

            "Come by the garage after lunch and I'll show you the new hotrod" Said the text. I checked the clock again. Eleven fifty-eight. Did that count as after lunch? I could use a good distraction and some advice about now.

            I ate some food, showered, and changed, and then walked the couple of blocks over to Leon's garage. It was a cool, clear day. The sun was out but it wasn't very warm. There wasn't even a breath of wind. I ran down the staircase and crossed the street headed North. Because of the time, there were only a few cars on the road. Most everyone was either at work or lunch. There were a bunch of little kids at the park with their moms, I could hear their laughter and squealing as they ran around. Once winter rolled around the park would be empty all day except for the snow. Some people think that Nevada doesn't get that much, those people are wrong. It gets cold and blizzardy during the winter months.

            A minute later I walked up March street until I got to a line of tiny connected homes and then walked around back to where the garages were. The fifth one down was Leon's, it was pretty easy to tell which one was his. For one thing it had a big ugly black truck that looked about twenty years due to be dropped off at a junkyard. Leon's car.

            To really picture Leon's garage, you have to see it, but I'll give it my best go at explaining what it's like. Take one of those big metal shipping containers, or maybe those storage units you pay for every month, and then make it just a hair wider. Now add a rusted, crappy looking door that was at one time supposed to be controlled by a button, but now doesn't open at all unless two people pull, jerk, and kick it up and down.

            The inside of the garage has this ancient cracked concrete floor with water stains, oil stains, and probably a lot of other things I don't like to think about. I'm not just talking ketchup spills from 1987 here.

            That's not so hard to think about. Now comes the fun part. Leon doesn't just make little go-karts, he likes to collect metal things so he can put them together in weird ways. Alright, maybe I lied earlier, Leon is kind of an artist. He has everything from razor blades to chain saw bits and spoons that he welds, glues, or maybe even duct tapes together into these massive structures. Looking at them up close you'd be completely flabbergasted trying to decipher what they're supposed to be. But then you take a few steps back from the encrusted tarnished metal and you suddenly realize that it's a panda bear. No joke. That was one of the first sculptures I watched him put together. A freaking giant panda bear that was taller than I was. What the heck, right?

            Yeah, well, that's Leon. When he's not refilling your wiper fluid, he's building metal frying pan pandas. Frying pan-das?

            I'm always amazed at how he makes stuff like that because the entire thing doesn't look like anything until the very end, I swear it happens like magic that they turn into something at all. How can a person take one hundred pounds of metal junk and then think, 'hey, this would make a great dolphin!' Really, who would do that? Not me. Not anyone else I knew. Just him.

            I rapped on the door to the garage, which was open about 2 feet, and then rolled underneath the gap to get inside. Like always there were piles of metal and other odds and ends that were actually normal to find in a garage. Gardening tools, old paint cans, the usual. Next to those was some big statue that was still in progress. If I had to guess what it was I'd say it would turn into a bear...but I'm notorious for being wrong with my guesses. For all I knew it could be a kitten next week. A giant, one hundred something pound metal kitten with forks jammed into its armpits and toes. The panda is still my favorite, though. It's right in the entrance to the garage. Leon polished the metal bits in places to make it look more white and black, even though he didn't add a dollop of paint anywhere. Sometimes he sells his creation, but more often than not they just sit around until he ends up giving them away or sending them to a recycling place.

            "Leon, you in here?" I called into the messy space. My voice sounded faintly hollow because of the numerous metal obstructions around.

            An oily hand appeared on the other side of one of the shelving units. "Right here, dark horse! Come on back."

            Dark horse. Leon gives everyone a nickname almost every time he sees them. My name is Kolt, so he usually gives me ones relating to horses. Most of them are really really lame. No, I'm not going to give you a list of names he's used. But my mom's name is Laurie, and Leon likes to make honking noises as if he's driving a big truck when he talks to her. Leon is seriously one of a kind.

            I skirted the piles, careful not to let my jacket catch and rip, and then grinned appreciatively at my cousin when he came into view. He was standing on a big piece of cardboard with this dopey smile on his face, which was almost as filthy as his hands. He'd probably been out here since five am trying to finish this kart.

            It was on the cardboard, and it was amazing. It stood about three feet tall at the top of the seat, and was perhaps six feet long. Though it was still pretty raw, meaning that it didn't have all the shiny finishing bits, it was still incredible. The chassis was on, and it had a gap in it where you could see the engine. The body was fully painted with blue and silver ethereal looking flames. I gawked at it.

            "Holy hannah, did you paint it yourself?" I dropped my jacket on the shelf and knelt beside the vehicle to get a better look at the details. The flames had this sick curve that twisted and curled. When the kart was moving it would look even better, like it was really burning. Flames were overrated on karts and cars, but I think that's because it just looks cool and everyone knows it. I was dying to drive it. I'd seen this thing when it