Page 40 of The Summer List

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.”

---