said teasingly. “You sure you don’t want to take me to the dance now that you’ve seen the dress?”
Kellen’s faith fell into shadow. It was a subtle shift but one I could recognize easily. He was angry, but the casual air around him never faltered. If you’d looked at him then and you didn’t know him, you’d think he was still sitting in an overly stuffy, fancy restaurant on a nice summer night admiring his beautiful girlfriend. But he wasn’t. He was working on something inside, something I was worried would land them in another fight, him on his bike and the night closing in behind him.
Suddenly Laney laughed lightly, pushing her hand against his shoulder. “Oh, Kellen, come on! I’m kidding. I understand. I’m over it. It’s fine. I’m being silly, baby.”
I knew that was bullshit. Kellen probably did too. Just an hour before, Laney had said the words, ‘I don’t understand. I can’t get over it.’ to me as we were getting ready. But she was my sister and it was her lie and I let it go as I watched the clouds dissipate from Kellen’s face.
“You look great,” he said, his voice deep. Quiet.
He knew it was her lie too. He let her have it, just like me. Sometimes that was easier than dragging out the truth.
“Kellen, how’s school?” mom asked, smoothing over the moment.
“It’s good. I’m really enjoying the challenge.”
“You mean it’s tougher than Higher Focus?” I asked, feigning a shocked tone.
Kellen grinned at me over the candlelit table. “Can you believe it?”
“Nope. According to the teachers at Weston, Higher Focus is basically college.”
“It was tougher than the schools in my neighborhood, but it wasn’t exactly a huge challenge.”
I resisted the urge to throw my bread at him.
“Jenna failed the entrance exam for it,” Laney told him.
Now I wanted to throw my bread at her. “So did you!”
She shrugged carelessly.
“It’s not easy to get into,” Kellen told me. “Don’t sweat it.”
“I’m not.”
And I wasn’t. Higher Focus was a great program for people like Kellen looking to go to college for a million years and do something insane like be a doctor or lawyer. For people like me just looking to get released from high school hell and do something with their hands on the outside, it was pointless. I was in the ranks of mechanics, welders, and carpenters. I was dreaming of doing something my mom considered ‘lower level’ work, but I didn’t care. It was what I wanted, what I dreamed and doodled about. I wanted to be an artist. And if my mom knew that I wanted to be a tattoo artist, she’d have killed me on the spot.
My seventeen year old body was without a blemish or scar. Mom would never let me get a tattoo but that didn’t stop me from being fascinated by them. Just like with everything, some artists were crap. Some tattoos were hideous, tasteless mistakes that could haunt a person for the rest of their lives. But some were incredible. They were works of art that made the people wearing them a walking canvas. I would see people on the beach or in the streets showing so much skin in the summer that every drop of ink on their body was visible and I would drool. If I was alone, I would stop people and ask where they’d gotten the work done. I had gathered a short list of outstanding artists in the area and it was my goal to someday gather the nerve to go talk to them. To find out how to do what they did, maybe show them my own work and ask if they thought I had a shot at doing it too.
But I didn’t dare tell this to anyone in my family. Not even Kellen, though he was probably the only one who would understand. Surprisingly, despite his rough roots and the boxing, he didn’t have any tattoos either. That’s what made me hesitate to talk to him about it. What if he hated tattoos? What if he thought they were ugly and ridiculous? My dream was still my dream, but I would be lying if I said having Kellen frown on it wouldn’t sour it a
Kellen’s faith fell into shadow. It was a subtle shift but one I could recognize easily. He was angry, but the casual air around him never faltered. If you’d looked at him then and you didn’t know him, you’d think he was still sitting in an overly stuffy, fancy restaurant on a nice summer night admiring his beautiful girlfriend. But he wasn’t. He was working on something inside, something I was worried would land them in another fight, him on his bike and the night closing in behind him.
Suddenly Laney laughed lightly, pushing her hand against his shoulder. “Oh, Kellen, come on! I’m kidding. I understand. I’m over it. It’s fine. I’m being silly, baby.”
I knew that was bullshit. Kellen probably did too. Just an hour before, Laney had said the words, ‘I don’t understand. I can’t get over it.’ to me as we were getting ready. But she was my sister and it was her lie and I let it go as I watched the clouds dissipate from Kellen’s face.
“You look great,” he said, his voice deep. Quiet.
He knew it was her lie too. He let her have it, just like me. Sometimes that was easier than dragging out the truth.
“Kellen, how’s school?” mom asked, smoothing over the moment.
“It’s good. I’m really enjoying the challenge.”
“You mean it’s tougher than Higher Focus?” I asked, feigning a shocked tone.
Kellen grinned at me over the candlelit table. “Can you believe it?”
“Nope. According to the teachers at Weston, Higher Focus is basically college.”
“It was tougher than the schools in my neighborhood, but it wasn’t exactly a huge challenge.”
I resisted the urge to throw my bread at him.
“Jenna failed the entrance exam for it,” Laney told him.
Now I wanted to throw my bread at her. “So did you!”
She shrugged carelessly.
“It’s not easy to get into,” Kellen told me. “Don’t sweat it.”
“I’m not.”
And I wasn’t. Higher Focus was a great program for people like Kellen looking to go to college for a million years and do something insane like be a doctor or lawyer. For people like me just looking to get released from high school hell and do something with their hands on the outside, it was pointless. I was in the ranks of mechanics, welders, and carpenters. I was dreaming of doing something my mom considered ‘lower level’ work, but I didn’t care. It was what I wanted, what I dreamed and doodled about. I wanted to be an artist. And if my mom knew that I wanted to be a tattoo artist, she’d have killed me on the spot.
My seventeen year old body was without a blemish or scar. Mom would never let me get a tattoo but that didn’t stop me from being fascinated by them. Just like with everything, some artists were crap. Some tattoos were hideous, tasteless mistakes that could haunt a person for the rest of their lives. But some were incredible. They were works of art that made the people wearing them a walking canvas. I would see people on the beach or in the streets showing so much skin in the summer that every drop of ink on their body was visible and I would drool. If I was alone, I would stop people and ask where they’d gotten the work done. I had gathered a short list of outstanding artists in the area and it was my goal to someday gather the nerve to go talk to them. To find out how to do what they did, maybe show them my own work and ask if they thought I had a shot at doing it too.
But I didn’t dare tell this to anyone in my family. Not even Kellen, though he was probably the only one who would understand. Surprisingly, despite his rough roots and the boxing, he didn’t have any tattoos either. That’s what made me hesitate to talk to him about it. What if he hated tattoos? What if he thought they were ugly and ridiculous? My dream was still my dream, but I would be lying if I said having Kellen frown on it wouldn’t sour it a
Similar Books
