“How about you sing the note right now.”
I glance around me at the expressions all facing me. They’re curious, but my mind quickly starts to picture all their faces contorting to angry, vengeful stares.
I close my eyes. “How about I don’t,” I say.
Aunt Sue and I have been here before. A stalemate. She’s as stubborn as me and these standoffs always end in her getting her way because my mom always tells me to concede.
“Okay, how about this. Pick someone to sing with you,” she says, surprising me.
Suddenly all the faces grimaced at the same time. No one wants to sing with just one other person. Everyone but Janie, who’s giving me a conspiratorial look.
“Janie.”
Aunt Sue smiles. “Okay, girls. Let’s hear it.”
Janie smiles at me and starts first. Her note is low and her voice is bluesy and beautiful. I join in and my voice is high and pitchy. I can hear it, but soon it transforms. I’m matching her voice. It’s different, but it sounds . . . .
“Gorgeous,” Aunt Sue says as she signals us to stop. “We need to find a duet for you two.”
Janie smiles up at me and I can’t help smiling back.
The bell rings and Janie makes her way up to me. “God, Ell. Your voice is so gorgeous. That was amazing. What kind of duet do you think we’ll do?”
I shrug and feel someone behind me. Janie glances over my shoulder and rolls her eyes through a smile. “I’ve gotta go meet Jackson. I’ll see you later?” she asks.
“Sure.”
I turn around and Colter is standing way too close. I back up a little almost tripping down the step. “Tom Sawyer.”
“That sounded . . . nice.” He rubs his neck and looks toward the door. “Look. Can we . . . I mean, do you want to . . . .” He looks uncomfortable and it seems so foreign on him. Nerves don’t work for him. He doesn’t need them.
“I want to get a tattoo,” I blurt out. Not sure why. It seems as though anything goes around him. My mind is full of jerky, unplanned outbursts and they are manifesting in front of him for some reason.
We walk out of the room, my aunt watching us carefully.
“That was random,” he says.
“I’m not old enough to get one. But you are, right?”
He eyes me suspiciously. “You want a tattoo.”
“Yeah. Can you help me?”
“Are you sure you know what you’re doing? You know those are permanent, right?” He grins, then a shroud of darkness washes over his face like a trigger has been switched. “Maybe you shouldn’t get one just yet. Wait a bit before making up your mind.” He looks at me expectantly.
“Can you help me or not?”
He glances at the ceiling and lets out a breath that blows his hair out of his eyes. “You’re gonna get it anyway, aren’t you?” he says, glancing down to me.
I don’t answer, I just wait for him to make up his mind.
“Yeah, I know someone. We can meet after school and I’ll take you.”
“You won’t regret this.”
“I already do,” he says, walking away.
? ? ?
After school, Colter and I drive out of town. Far out of town.
“Rick lives in Evansville. We have to go to his house, but he’s not going to care that you’re seventeen. I’ve known him for a while. He gave me mine.”
“You have tattoos?”
He lifts up his sleeve and a gothic-looking music note in black stares back at me. I reach out and touch it with the tip of my finger. He flinches and I retreat quickly. He pulls down his sleeve. “Your hands are cold, sorry.”
“Is that your only one?”
He grins to himself and something in his expression fuses into my brain. It’s a look I’ll never forget. It holds a crazy memory, or a story I won’t hear. “I have another one.”
“Can I see it?”
He bites down on one of his lips. “Maybe.”
“Oh. So it’s in a place that . . . I get it. Uh, never mind.”
He laughs and pulls into someone’s driveway.
Rick Thatcher looks like someone who could be a hacker for the government. Not what I expected at all. He has surfer blond hair and no visible tattoos.
“Are you sure we’re at the right house?” I whisper to Colter as we take a seat in the living room.
The air smells like lemons and there are doilies everywhere—on the tables, on the counters, there’s even framed ones hanging on the wall.
“My grandma lets me stay with her. I lost my job a couple months ago,” Rick says.
“And she lets you turn this place into a tattoo parlor?”
He lets out a throaty chuckle. “My grandma’s my biggest customer.”
Colter and Rick exchange a look that I don’t understand. “This is her, huh?” He raises his eyebrows and looks me up and down.
I cover myself as nonchalantly as I can while Colter smacks Rick in the chest, with a warning glare.
Rick gives him a look. “What?”
“You know what.”