“Look!”
I’m barely in through the back door when Wendy practically runs me over, her T-shirt sleeve hiked up over her skinny shoulder.
“I did a tattoo!” she cries. “Just like Kit taught me.”
She did, kind of: a fairy, with hair down to her ankles and big, blooming butterfly wings. The bluish lines are delicate, intricate, especially considering how thin Wendy’s arm is. I’ve never really looked at Kit’s work up close, I realize.
It’s good. Really good.
“I taught her how to do a tattoostencil.” Kit follows a few steps behind her at a slower pace. “Uh, just to be clear, in case anyone was about to freak out. It’ll wash off.”
Wendy tucks her chin into her shoulder so she can peer down her arm, beaming. “Yeah, but itlooksreal,” she says. “It’s really cool.” She glances at Kit. “If I ever get a real one, I am gonna get this.”
“I won’t hold you to that,” Kit says. “You’ve got a lot of time before you turn eighteen.”
“Looks great.” Pan barely glances at it before sauntering over and sticking his head in the fridge. “My man does good work.”
“It does look great,” Fox agrees, giving his brother a kind ofwhat do you want me to sayshrug.
“It’s just one of my flash pieces,” Kit explains, rolling the glove off his hand. There’s a tiny tinge of pink in his cheeks. “I could do those with my eyes closed. Not that Iwould,obviously,” he adds.
“Kitisgoing to teach me to tattoo for real, though,” Wendy announces. “He said.”
“I said I’d teach her todraw,” Kit clarifies again. “And maybe. We’ll see. Apprenticeship is no joke.”
“What’s apprenticeship?”
“It’s like…tattoo college. All the studying you have to do before they let you stab people.”
Wendy giggles just as Pan groans.
“There’s no food in here.” He staggers back from the fridge, looking pained. “I’m gonna starve.”
Food. Eating. I dimly recall that I haven’t had anything since my two sips of energy drink this morning, which might explain why I feel so…off.
That, and the Marina itself. But I survived. And really, what did I think was going to happen? It’s just a place. A location. And I’m with the Lost Boys. Iama Lost Boy. Sure, Zuzu’s shit got all fucked up but?—
Her face flashes in my mind, that one moment our eyes met. Studying me.
I shake it off.
—but that’s a Krye-related problem. We—I—am only tangentially involved there. It’s as done as it can be, and now I’m here.
Home.
Safe.
Fox, who’s leaning against the counter, arms folded, shrugs. “I mean, you gotta buy food for there to be food in the house, is the thing.”
“I’ve bought food,” Pan says. “Didn’t I?” He looks at me. “What happened to that burrito?”
“You ate it.” Blue slams the back door behind him. “Dipshit.” He tugs off his helmet, gives his head a shake, and strides briskly across and out of the kitchen.
Seeing Pan’s face fall, I rush in. “I could grab more,” I offer, only to remember that I technically still don’t have a bike. “Or?—”
“Thank God,” Kit interrupts, “that someone ordered pizza.” He pauses. “Me,” he clarifies. “Me, I ordered some.”
“It was my idea, though,” Wendy pipes up.
