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My heart races at this reply, which implies she wants to be as worthy as my best friend. “All right. I’ll let you see it when we get to Shayla’s.”
“Shayla? Your tattoo artist is a girl?”
“Is that a problem?”
She shakes her head, keeping her eyes focused straight ahead. “Nope. Just assumed it was a guy.” She clears her throat and digs her hands into the pockets of her skinny jeans. “So why are you getting a tattoo today?”
“It’s my birthday today.”
She whips her head toward me. “It’s your birthday? Why didn’t you say anything at lunch?”
“I didn’t expect anybody to remember. Tristan and Jake are the only ones who know my birthday, but it’s not like I made them set reminders on their calendars or anything. It’s just a birthday. It’s not a big deal.”
She looks disappointed with this response. “So, you’re sixteen now?”
“Yep. Sweet sixteen.” I wink at her and she blushes as she turns her attention back to the street. “Can I ask you a question?”
She sighs as if she already knows what I’m going to ask. “You can ask whatever you want. I can’t guarantee I’ll answer.”
“Fair enough.” I pause for a moment as I work up the courage, then I spit it out quickly. “Have you ever had a boyfriend?”
“One. When I was twelve.”
“Twelve?”
“We were only together for, like, four days.”
“What was his name?”
“Why do you want to know?” She’s still looking straight ahead, but she’s wearing a whisper of a smile.
“Because I want to know everything about you.”
Forever Envious
We arrive at 424 Helms at that moment and I gladly accept the momentary distraction to catch my breath as Chris bounds up the porch steps to ring the doorbell. Oh, God. Even the way he rings the doorbell looks cute. How he glances at me over his shoulder, his face beaming with excitement over some new ink. Like a kid on Halloween waiting for someone to answer the door and dump candy into his bucket.
I turn away quickly before he can catch me swooning. Looking out at the two-story houses on Helms Avenue, I’m reminded of a house I lived in last year, just a few streets away from here. I was there for four months during the summer and the end of my eighth grade year. My birthday came and went that year without anyone noticing, even after I’d lived with the Grohl family for a few months. It wasn’t as if this was the first time my birthday was forgotten. It was that I had promised myself that I would have the courage to say something this time. And I didn’t.
I really hope it doesn’t happen again this year. I don’t think I could handle another forgotten birthday. Not in the Knight house.
“Claire!”
I turn around at the sound of Chris’s voice. My stomach clenches as he nods toward the open door where a beautiful girl who can’t be more than twenty years old stands. She raises her eyebrows as she waits for me to join them.
Chris moves aside so I can enter before him. “Claire, this is Shayla. Shayla, this is Claire.”
“This your girlfriend?” Shayla asks in a bored voice.
Her pink hair is short and spiky, but her skin and makeup are flawless. Her tank top shows off her smooth tattooed arms. And her skinny black jeans are riding so low, I can see the waistband of her lacy panties.
I take a seat on the sofa as Chris and Shayla make their way a bit further into the room so Chris can sit on a chair. The mint-green vinyl chair sits in the middle of a wood floor in what should be a dining area, and looks like it was stolen out of a dentist’s office. The far wall behind the chair is mirrored from floor to ceiling and the wall on the right is lined with shelves holding disinfectant, inks, and various supplies.
Without any warning or prompting, Chris peels off his T-shirt. His chest and ab muscles flex as he sits on the chair. He glances at me as he lies back and smiles when he catches me staring at him. But, mercifully, he doesn’t call me out on it.
I watch silently as Shayla grabs stuff off the shelves and begins setting up the machine. But I can feel Chris watching me. Finally, I look at him and he smiles as he beckons me with his finger.
My stomach flips and I take deep breaths as I stand from the sofa and walk to him. Trying not to focus too much on whether or not I have an awkward walk or if my hair looks windblown. Or how much prettier Shayla looks when she walks.
“I told you I’d show you my sorry ass tattoo before I get it covered up,” he says when I’m almost next to him.
I stop a few feet away, trying to look anywhere but his chest, but he beckons me closer.
“Come here.”
I step forward until I’m right next to the chair. He points at the right side of his chest as Shayla sits down and rolls her chair over the wood floor until she’s next to me. When I see the tattoo, I laugh out loud. Uproarious, gut-busting laughter. Right over his left pectoral muscle, spelled out in a drunken scrawl, is his name, Chris.
“You don’t have to laugh that hard,” he says, though he can’t hide his grin.
“I’m sorry.” I cover my mouth and try to catch my breath. “Were you afraid you’d forget your name?”
“Ha-ha. Very funny. I was drunk. And I did forget my name for a moment. So Tristan said, ‘I bet you wouldn’t forget it if it was tattooed on you like every other fucking thing you want to remember.’” I shake my head as he looks up at me with the most adorable look of embarrassment. “And I was drunk,” he adds again, in case I forgot.
“Maybe you should have just tattooed ‘I was drunk’ on there,” I reply and his eyes light up.
“Shit! Why didn’t I think of that?”
I scoot out of the way so Shayla can roll her stool closer to Chris. My heart pounds with roaring jealousy as she wipes the left side of his chest with antiseptic. Finally, I tear my gaze away and head back to the sofa.
When it’s over, Chris shows me the tattoo of a monkey sitting down with its eyes closed and legs crossed and wearing a red cape. Chris explains that he has a thing for Japanese culture and the monkey was revered in depictions of Shinto Buddhist mythology.
“Why the red cape?” I ask, as we walk back home.
“Why not?”
I smile and we’re silent for quite a while before I clear my throat to speak. “His name was Wade.”
“What are you talking about?”
“My boyfriend. The one you asked me about earlier.”
“Wade?” He looks incredulous. “Are you serious?”
“Yes.”
“That’s a terrible name.”
“It is not.”
“Yes, it is. Claire and Wade? That’s just wrong.” He smiles and I quickly face forward so he can’t see the effect it has on me. “Chris and Claire… Now that’s the sound of destiny.”
“Wade was very cute.” I glance at him sideways to see his reaction and he’s looking straight at me, smiling as if he knows I’m trying to make him jealous.
“You want me to help you write a song for Wade?”
“Shut up.”
“Wade would never write you a song, but I’ve already written you three.”
I can hardly breathe as my heart pounds crazy fast inside my chest. I glance at him again and his smile has softened.
“If you don’t tell my mom about this tattoo, I’ll play one of your songs for you.”
“I’m not going to tell your mom,” I reply quickly.
I want to hear those songs. Now.
He chuckles as we approach the house. “She can be very convincing.”
I smile as I think, Just like you.
Forever Blue
I wake the morning of June 7th feeling heavy. It’s a familiar feeling. It happens once in a while without warning, but it always happens on June 7th. Like a trusty friend who always visits on a special anniversary. My heart is always heaviest on the anniversary of my mother’s death.
That’s why I always try to do something that makes me happy on June 7th. Wallowing in my room only makes the heaviness worse. I need something light to pick me up.
Last year, I walked to the local movie theater by myself and watched a comedy. Then I stopped and got myself some frozen yogurt on the way back. Mrs. Grohl slipped me a twenty-dollar bill and a look of immense pity when I told her why I wanted to go to the movies.
