10. Andrea

CHAPTER 10

Andrea

I wake up to find four voice mail messages from my mom waiting for me on my phone, which makes this the perfect day to continue distracting myself from my own future and go get a piercing instead.

My mom has been demanding an explanation ever since I cancelled my return to Toronto last week, and my vague texts about making arrangements and figuring things out have only made her double-down on her efforts. I swipe the notifications away before heading down to the kitchen, where I find Naomi washing some dishes at the sink.

"You look like you need coffee," she says when she looks up and sees me.

She must have just finished giving the cats their disgusting slop for breakfast; they're shoving their entire heads into their food bowls and chewing loud enough for me to hear halfway across the room.

"Wow, do I really look that bad?" I ask, combing a finger through my sleep-disheveled hair as I yawn.

Naomi's face pales, and the dish she was washing clatters to the bottom of the sink.

"I didn't mean it like that. I just meant you look sleepy. It's nice. You look nice."

She drops her gaze to the sink basin and starts scrubbing so hard I half-expect the dish brush to snap in half.

"I wouldn't be offended if I didn't look nice," I say with a grin, "and I do need coffee."

I head for the fancy machine that's got its own special built-in section below the microwave and pop a coffee pod into the slot. While I wait for the coffee to pour, I turn around to lean against the counter and watch Naomi start drying off the dishes, which turn out to be some spare cat food bowls shaped like porcelain mice.

"You ready for today?" I ask her.

Priya and Shal are supposed to arrive in a couple hours to drive us all to a tattoo and piercing shop that does walk-ins. The last I heard, only Shal is up for a tattoo, and the rest of us are going with piercings.

"Not at all," she answers, "but I guess I'm doing it anyway. Did you decide what piercing you're getting?"

I've already got three in each earlobe and my helix done. I thought about getting something else on my ear, but if I'm going to be putting off Toronto for a few weeks to participate in this whole bucket list thing, I might as well go all out.

"My nipple."

She's got her back to me, and I see the way her shoulders tense. She stands stock-still for a couple seconds before she sets the food bowl down on the counter.

"Oh," she says, the sound so high-pitched it's almost past the range of human hearing.

Part of me wants to laugh, and the rest of me is burning with the need to find out what would happen if she turned around.

She's probably just shocked I said the word ‘nipple' in front of her, or maybe freaked out by me admitting I want to get a piece of metal stabbed through mine, but I can't help wondering if maybe there's another reason she froze like I'd whipped my shirt off right here in the kitchen.

Or if freezing is all she'd do if I really did strip my shirt off while she watched.

A loud gurgle from the coffee machine makes me flinch, and I look over to see my mug is now full. I wrap one of my hands around the cup and lift it to my mouth for a sip even though it's still way too hot. The liquid tastes bitter and earthy.

"I'm gonna get dressed," I tell Naomi as I head for the staircase.

She still hasn't looked at me, and she mumbles something too quiet for me to catch as I leave the room. I decide not to ask her what she said. The back of my neck feels hot, like the right words from her could have me breaking out in a sweat.

The wrong words , I correct myself as I pad up the stairs slow enough not to spill my coffee. Definitely the wrong words.

There would be nothing right about acting on whatever this whole pseudo-flirty vibe between us is. I don't even know if she's actually into me, and either way, I'm supposed to leave as soon as we're done with the list.

I can't get caught up thinking some random summer fling is going to give me all the answers I need. Not again.

I pause on the landing and take another couple scalding sips of coffee, willing the caffeine to sort out all the jumbled thoughts in my head. Once I've gotten dressed and downed the rest of the mug, I flop down on my bed and spend the rest of the time until Shal and Priya's arrival trying to play through a Fleetwood Mac song on my guitar. I keep zoning out and needing to restart. The better part of an hour passes, and I only manage to get through the chorus once.

There was a time when I thought maybe music was the thing I was looking for, the direction I could steer my whole life towards, but even though music has been there for me during times when no one else was, singing and guitar have only ever been hobbies to me. I've never loved playing enough to want to shape my whole life around it.

I've never loved anything like that.

The sound of a car horn out in the driveway makes me jump. I scramble to put my guitar away and then slide a stack of bracelets and a few rings on to complete my jean shorts and tank top outfit before jogging back down to the kitchen.

I find Naomi pulling her shoes on in the entryway. She's traded the leggings and plain t-shirt she was wearing this morning for tan high-waisted shorts, a wide belt, and a little blue striped blouse partially tucked in.

It's the first time I've seen her dressed up, and I have to pretend to be engrossed in finding my shoes to keep from staring.

"So we've been summoned?" I ask when the car horn honks again.

"Shal just texted to say Priya won't get out of the car since she's scared she'll lose her nerve if she does, and Shal doesn't want to come in and leave her alone because she's scared Priya will bolt and hide in a shrub or something."

I press my lips together to hide my smile as I slip my sandals on. It's moments like these that make it clear why Priya and Naomi are best friends. I can totally see her using the ‘hide in a shrub' method too.

"I didn't answer her yet, so she probably thinks we haven't heard the car," Naomi explains as the horn blasts again, long enough to make us both wince.

"We better go before the neighborhood watch rolls in," I say as I lead the way out.

I press the lock button on the front door's fancy keypad once we're out on the steps. We head for the driveway, and Naomi hauls open the side door of the minivan. We each take one of the bucket seats in the back while Shal greets us from up front. Bollywood music is blasting so loud on the stereo she has to crank the volume knob down before we can hear her.

"I'm trying to pump her up with the Yeh Jawaani Hai Deewani soundtrack," she says, gesturing at where Priya is sitting in the passenger seat with her forehead pressed to the window and her arms wrapped tight around her stomach, "which usually she can't resist, but not even ‘ Badtameez Dil ' is working."

"Why did I let you talk me into this?" Priya moans. "Ma is going to kill me."

Shal shifts the car into gear and swings the van around to head for the gate while she makes shushing noises at her sister.

"I told you, Ma never needs to know."

Priya flops forward so her head is braced against the dashboard. "And I told you I'm not getting any private areas pierced, which means I'm going to have to face her wrath, not you."

Shal shrugs as she slows the van to a stop and waits for the gate to swing open. "You still have a chance to get a tattoo instead, like me."

"Do you know what you're getting?" Naomi asks over the sound of another groan from Priya.

The gate swings shut to lock behind us once we've reached the end of the driveway, and Shal starts following the directions on her phone screen where it's stashed in one of the console cup holders.

"I think I'm going to look at their flash designs and see if anything speaks to me," she answers, "and Priya wants to get some kind of additional ear piercing. I really don't see why our mom would have any right to be mad about that. She's okay with nose piercings, and she got our earlobes pierced when we were babies. Seems only fair we pierce whatever we want now that we're legal adults."

Priya scoffs and sits up straight. "Have you met our mother?"

Shal stays quiet for a couple seconds before she shrugs again. "Well, I still think it's only fair."

"Because you're not the one she's going to murder," Priya shoots back.

"I'm usually the one she wants to murder." Shal lifts a hand off the wheel to flick her hair over her shoulder. "Anyway, this conversation is bringing my mood down. Let's stop worrying and get pumped up. It's the summer, bitches!"

She cranks the music so loud Naomi claps her hands over her ears and shouts for her to have mercy. Shal turns it down a smidge before cackling and revving the engine—or at least, as close to revving an engine as you can get in a minivan.

"Now that is a statement I can get behind!" I shout over the music.

I roll my window down and pull my hair out of its half-ponytail so the deep purple strands can fly free in the breeze. When I glance over at Naomi, I see she's still got her hands pressed to her ears, but she's grinning as she watches the tips of my hair whip at my face and tangle themselves into knots I'd probably end up regretting if I didn't know they were the price I paid to make her smile.

Another wave of apprehension rises inside me, and I do my best to push it back down where it came from.

It's the summer, I'm riding in a car full of girls ready to go do something crazy, and I like seeing Naomi smile. There doesn't have to be anything more to it than that.

The tattoo parlor is in a random strip mall with a florist on one side and a leather goods repair store on the other. The sign above the front window is a little faded, but the place had good reviews and has been open for almost fifteen years, so I figure it's at least safe to say we're not going to die of some fatal skin infection.

Shal claims a spot out front for the van. She and I hop out as soon as she's cut the engine, but we end up sitting on the curb for a solid five minutes while Naomi leads Priya in what looks to be some kind of breathing exercise inside the car.

"I told Priya she doesn't have to do it," Shal says as she kicks some pebbles around with the tips of her flats. "I wouldn't force her. She does want to. She's just nervous."

I nod. "Yeah, that makes sense."

I glance at her and see she's watching the two of them in the car, an expression I can't read carving a couple lines between her eyebrows.

There's a lot about Shal I can't read. On the outside, she seems like the girl who has everything: the good grades and extracurricular achievements, plus all the popularity and social influence an eighteen year-old could dream of. I don't have to have gone to school with her to know what place she held in the social food chain. There's something about the way she carries herself that makes it clear she gets what she wants, and that what she wants is victory.

My mom would be thrilled with a daughter like her.

Only the longer you look at Shal, the more you realize there are cracks in the surface, like a bird's egg slowly being squeezed in a merciless fist.

Maybe I'm just projecting. Maybe that's just what I feel like when I think about the life waiting for me in Toronto. Maybe other girls can handle the pressure just fine.

The sound of the car doors slamming shut snaps my attention away from Shal. I look up to see Naomi and Priya standing in front of us with their arms linked and their faces grim but determined.

"Let's do this," Priya says, her voice a little shaky.

Shal and I both whoop our agreement before getting to our feet. As soon as we step inside the shop, the sharp smell of antiseptic makes my nose wrinkle. The faint buzzing sound of tattoos in progress brings up a surge of adrenaline in my chest. I still haven't gotten any ink myself, but I've lounged around several studios while friends got them. I've even asked for the price of a few flash designs, but in the end, looking at tattoos options kind of felt like skimming through brochures at the university fair they held at our high school every year.

I never found anything that felt like me , not in some deep-seated, cosmically-aligned way that made me feel like my very soul was lighting up inside me, which I know is probably not necessary for some tiny ink drawing of a flower on your ankle, but it does seem like how you should feel about your major life decisions.

"Hey! Welcome to the shop, you guys." A guy in a beanie with full sleeve tattoos and a septum piercing strolls over to stand behind the counter and smile at us. "What can I help you with today?"

I'm about to step to the front of the group and answer him when Priya clears her throat and points one of her fingers at her ear.

"I would like to get this pierced," she says in a voice loud enough to make a few heads around the shop turn our way. Her tone is a mix of defiance and nerves, like she's expecting the guy to throw us out of the building. I see his mouth twitch like he's trying not to laugh.

"For sure," he says after he's found his cool again. "We can definitely do that."

"I'd like a piercing too, please," Naomi murmurs, shifting her arm where it's still linked with Priya's. "Also on my ear."

"I want one too," I add, "but my nipple, not my ear."

To the guy's credit, he doesn't bat an eye as he nods, but I do see him pressing his lips together like he's holding in a laugh when Priya whirls around and hisses, "Your nipple ?"

Even Shal does a double-take.

"You only live once, right?" I say with a shrug.

Priya looks like she's going to need to sit down any second now, but we're saved from a fainting spell when the guy at the counter distracts us by opening up a laptop and humming while he types a few things.

"Looks like you're in luck. Leila should have time for you all in about twenty minutes." He glances up from the screen to turn an expectant look on Shal. "Anything for you, or are you just the moral support today?"

Her voice comes out shakier than I expected. "Actually I, um, was wondering if you had a spot for a walk-in tattoo today?"

He clicks around for a few seconds and then tells her there's room for a small piece in about two hours. He points out the artist across the room where he's hunched over a woman getting a big piece done on her thigh.

"Did you have something in mind already?" he asks. "I can also give you Joel's flash so you can see if you're into his style. He's just added some really nice new stuff, and he's usually open to changes if you want to make them a little more custom."

I notice Shal rocking back and forth on the balls of her feet. "Um, sure, yeah. I'll take a look at it."

He shuffles some things around behind the desk and then hands her a folder.

"Let me know what you decide, and I can get you booked in. Feel free to have a seat over on the couches. In the meantime, let's get some piercing forms filled out. Do you all have ID on you?"

We pull out our wallets and then get started on filling out the forms and reading over the aftercare information. Priya decides to go for a daith piercing in the hopes that it will be a subtle enough to attract minimal rage from her mother, and Naomi asks for a hoop through the outer cartilage of her ear.

"I still can't believe you're getting your nipple done," Priya says to me once we're finally ready to join Shal on the black leather couches by the front window.

I'm about to reply when I notice Shal has the flash folder sitting closed on her lap. Her hands are gripping the edges of the cardstock so tight her knuckles have turned pale, and her face is blank as she stares down at the tiled floor.

"Shal, what's wrong?" Priya asks, sliding over to sling her arm around her sister as soon as she notices her expression.

"I…" She opens and closes her mouth a few times, her gaze still pinned to the floor. "I don't think I want to do it anymore."

Naomi moves to fit herself in on Shal's other side.

"It's okay," she soothes. "You don't have to."

"I just…" Shal shudders before she continues. "I thought I wanted it for me, but I don't. I just…I want to be smart, and I want to be successful, and I want to be a daughter my parents are proud of, but I also want to be cool and badass, like a…boss queen slaying my way through life, or whatever the hell it is we're all supposed to want to be."

She lets out a watery chuckle and then sniffs. Priya leans her head on her shoulder and squeezes her tighter.

"And I think maybe I just wanted this one thing to be about me ," she continues, "but I don't think I'm going to feel any better if I get some random white dude named Joel who's probably never tattooed brown skin in his life to draw, like, a heart or a bird on my rib cage. I mean, what the hell is that going to do for me?"

She laughs again, the sound edged with desperation, before she leans her head over to rest on top of Priya's.

"I'm proud of you," Priya says. "I should tell you that more often."

Shal sniffs again, and I start to wonder if I should get up and give them a minute. I feel like a stranger who's stumbled into a scene I'm not supposed to be watching.

I'm about to jump to my feet and pretend I'm looking for the bathroom when Shal lets out a heavy sigh and sits up straight.

"Okay, that's decided. Maybe someday I'll find the right tattoo, but it is not here in Joel's flash book." She looks between the two girls at her sides and then over at me. "You all have to carry the torch of the summer bucket list for me, okay?"

Before anyone else can speak, Priya stands up to loom over her sister.

"Oh, hell no," she says with her hands on her hips. "Just because you don't want a tattoo doesn't mean you're getting out of here without a body modification. If I'm finishing that list, so are you. No queen woman boss left behind. Slay, besties!"

She does a combination head toss, hip thrust, bicep flex that has us all laughing so hard we might actually get kicked out of this place.

"Did you really say queen woman boss ?" Naomi demands. "Is that even a thing?"

"It might as well be," Shal says as she wipes her eyes. "God, it all sounds so ridiculous when you actually stop and think about it."

Priya shakes her head and plants her hands on her hips again, spreading her feet apart into a wide power stance. "Speak for yourself. I am a queen woman boss. You should see me in a damn crown, bitches."

We all freeze at the sound of someone clearing their throat. I look past Priya to see a woman with long black hair and at least six piercings in her face standing with a clipboard in her hands. From the way her shoulders are shaking with suppressed laughter, I'd guess she's been there for at least the past thirty seconds.

"Sorry to interrupt," she says, "but, um, Miss Queen Woman Boss, would you like to get pierced first?"