“Mocha?” she asks.
“One.”
She hands me the rest. I put them away and jump down from the counter. She yawns and stretches, watching people walk by outside like she hopes someone interesting will show up.
“I think I want to get a tattoo,” I say. And really it isn’t a thing I thought about, but as soon as I say it, I do want one. A mark to prove I’ve changed, that I’m not the same sad old April in the motorhome.
Carly perks up. “Nice. What are you going to get?”
“Not sure,” I say, feeling the wobble of nerves in my belly.
“There’s a place right on The Commons,” she says. “They’re pretty good.” And before I know it, she’s arranged for Bodie to cover for us, and for the Lettuce Murderer to come in early to cover for Bodie, so we can take our lunch break together and go to the tattoo shop. It’s this spiraling thing where my random thought becomes what I’m actually going to do and it’s so exhilarating I forget to be nervous.
Bodie spends the rest of the morning sitting in the kitchen with his tongue sticking out the side of his mouth, sketching on a napkin. We don’t know what he’s drawing. He won’t let us see, and it’s hell to get him to fill orders, but when he’s done, he gives the napkin to me. “Just an idea,” he says. “For your tattoo.” It’s a white flower with a yellow center and five pointy petals like a star, streams of every color shooting out behind like it’s zooming through space. It’s beautiful and I can’t believe Bodie drew it just for me.
Carly says it won’t hurt. Like at all. “It’s seriously like not even a big deal, April. You’ll be fine. You’ll love it.” She holds my hand and swings it back and forth as we walk across The Commons to the tattoo store. But when I’m in the chair and I’ve flashed my chalked ID and signed all the papers, I ask her again, and she says that it does hurt, but it’s good hurt, like when you have a sore tooth and you can’t stop poking at it, which sounds a hell of a lot less appealing than she seems to think it does. At the very last minute, while Carly is squeezing my hand and the needle is buzzing right next to my hip, about to sear Bodie’s drawing into my belly forever, I wimp out.
The big, hairy tattoo guy gets crabby. He got the ink and the needles ready and now I’m not even going to pay. It makes me nervous to make him mad, so I blurt out, “Nose ring. I want a nose ring instead,” because it’s one quick jab instead of a billion little ones.
I choose a tiny fake emerald stud.
“Wicked color,” Carly says, nodding her approval. She’s not acting like I wimped out, and it makes me feel better.
“Birthstone.”
“Diamond is the birthstone for April,” she says.
“My birthday is in May,” I tell her.
She laughs, squeezing my hand as the needle goes in. “I love it.”
* * *
Bodie asks to see my tattoo when we get back to Decadence and Carly says, “You wish, Bodie. You wish April would show you where it is.”
Bodie touches his finger lightly to my new emerald stud and says, “Maybe I do,” before he goes back into the kitchen. And even though I don’t want him, even though I’m with Adam and I’m happy that way, the whole thing leaves me blushed and buzzing.
* * *
At six, right before Adam gets home, I get so nervous. Maybe he’ll be mad that I got a nose ring. What if it’s a totally amateur move—this stupid immature thing that’s going to make it obvious that I can’t possibly be nineteen? Or maybe he’ll think I’m a totally different person than he wanted me to be. I stare at my nose in the mirror, like maybe if I look hard enough it will be undone. My nose is red around the stud, so even if I take it out, he’ll still see what I did.
When I hear the downstairs door open, I slam the bathroom door shut. I hear Adam’s footsteps on the stairs. The door to the apartment opens and closes. I have no choice but to confess.
“I did something stupid,” I call from the bathroom.
“April?” he says, like there might be someone else in here yelling to him.
“Yeah.”
“Are you okay?”
“Fine. Just stupid.”
“What did you do?”
“I don’t want to show you.”
“I’m sure it’s fine.”
“It’s stupid.”
“Did you cut your hair?” He sounds amused.
“No.”
“Dye it purple?” He’s laughing.