Page 93 of Jagged

"Are you ready to see my favorite Jagz design?" she asked, her eyes sparkling with life but also hinted with a bit of nervousness.

"I'm so confused right now…"

"Good." She smiled then glanced behind me.

I followed her attention to see Tatiana standing in the doorway while leaning against the frame with her arms crossed over her middle. She smiled at me, offering me a small nod of support. I returned my attention to Clem, and gulped.

"Okay. Show me."

Clem pulled the fabric from the canvas to reveal the wall-size painting of a giant skull. Darkness and color swirled around it, and in the farthest recesses of my mind, the memory of the hissing paint can that created it fluttered to the surface. The faded words, hidden trinkets, and underscored message shouted to me the same way it had years ago. Bold hues mixed with blacks and neons to craft an image that spoke of my rage and pain, freed only by the tiny butterfly escaping from the top. My tag, as it always appeared, landed in the bottom right corner, its edges much sharper than the work above it.

Minutes passed it seemed like, before I breathed. My face felt warm and the tears in my eyes burned with a mist I fought to keep at bay. The dryness in my mouth made swallowing difficult, and I forced the gulp as I glanced at Clementine.

She smiled, rocking on her heels once as she shrugged. "My favorite."

My gaze wandered to Tati and her soft smile floated with her over to me. "Remember this?"

"Yeah." I gulped down the emotions as Clem squeezed my hand. The gesture startled me at first, but instead she interlaced her fingers with mine. "Yeah, I do. But how did you get it here?"

"Can I tell Clem the story?" Tatiana linked her arm with mine.

I nodded as words seemed to leave me, divorcing themselves from the trail that carried them to my lips. All I could do was gulp, and hold tightly to the feelings that bubbled inside me. I found myself leaning into Clementine, and she accepted my closeness without pause.

"So, when Jags and I first met," began Tati, with as much expression and spirit as if she were telling Reagan an enthusiastic bedtime story. "She was living sort of everywhere. In a foster home, but not really. She'd run away every day and one day, I found her spraying up the side of our high school by the dumpsters. We were both freshmen. I was sneaking a cigarette and saw her standing on top of the dumpsters writing resist in giant pink letters under the school banner. The building was dark brick, so the neon pink stood out crazy. I just watched her do it. She had no idea I was there."

I chuckled while listening to her and leaning against Clem.

"What were you resisting?" she asked, her gaze meeting mine for a moment.

"They told me I wasn't allowed to wear a hat in school," I said, smirking at the silly notion.

"That was only the beginning." Tati grinned and continued. "I caught her a few more times using those fat permanent markers to tag lockers and desks with slogans just the same. Votes for Women with a sketch of a woman in an old school dress and bonnet won me over. She put it on a condom dispenser."

"It was appropriate. Condom dispensers in only the women's bathroom? Men should have to wrap their own wanker up. It's not just women's responsibility," I blurted out.

"See what I mean?" Tati gestured to me while beaming from ear to ear. "A social justice warrior even then."

"Sign me up." Clem snickered and then gave my ponytail a stroke. "I found a lot of her work like that."

"Most of the places in the city where she created things like that kept it. Almost all of them. But this one was different…" Tatiana looked over at the skull painting. "Much different."

"Tell me about this one." Clem nodded toward it, then met my gaze. "Would you?"

I nodded then, once my words seemed to return to me. "Tati eventually figured out I was a street kid and would bring me food all the time. Eventually, her mom caught her, and she began bringing me to her house. I think we were about sixteen or so."

"About that." Tati nodded.

"Around then, I got cocky and confident. I'd tag overnight all the time. Learned to be evasive. Until that pain in the ass cop chased me down. Literally hunted me."

"Maggie Miller," filled in Tati. "You've met her."

Clem nodded, her lips pursed suddenly. "I have."

"She tried to get me to cool my shit, but I didn't listen. Eventually, I got picked up by other patrols and ended up in court. People began pressing charges for property destruction. Especially when I decided to tag the entire side of a conservative politician's office building." The pride in that never left me, and I felt the smile fight to explode from my face. "But I ended up in juvie, as you know, mainly because of the bridge incident. No one could ignore that. But Miller had other plans for me. I was there about six months, maybe a little more and it was miserable. She did something to get me out on a diversion program, and I got accepted."

"But not before she decided to be a rebel." Tati flicked my ear. "She got some kids to smuggle spray paint into juvie."

"Yeah. I mean…I didn't think I was ever getting out. So, after I knew I was absolutely being released, I hung the bed sheet up by closing it tightly between two doors while they processed me. The van was literally outside waiting for me. One of the friends I made in there helped me. And I made this." I motioned to the skull behind me. "In less than fifteen minutes. It was kind of my final mark. My final message, in a way. I knew I couldn't make street art anymore after that. So… I left it."

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