Ink Exchange

"You're my friend. I just worry and … He looked like trouble, you know? … The kind of guy that I wouldn't want near someone I care about." Aisli

"Yeah?" Leslie gri

"So that guy—"

"Was just passing through town. He talked pretty, wanted to be adored while he ordered his meal, and is probably already gone." Leslie stood and stretched, bouncing a little on the balls of her feet. "It's cool, Ash. No worries, okay?"

Aisli

"Sorry." Leslie thought about sitting down for a half second. Then she looked up at the dark sky swallowing the moon. A wonderful rush of urgency filled her. "Dance? Walk? I don't care."

It was as if her months of fears and worries were slipping away. She reached back to touch her tattoo. It was just an outline still, but she already felt better. Believing in a thing—acting to symbolize that belief—really did make her feel stronger. Symbols of the conviction. She was becoming herself again.

"Come on." She grabbed Aisli

Aisli

"Until your feet ache." Leslie looped her arm with Aisli

It felt good to be herself again.

Better, even.

Chapter 8

Leslie walked down the hall of Bishop O.C., shoes held in her hand, careful not to swing her arm and smack one of the dingy metal lockers with her heels. It had been three days since she'd had the outline tattooed, but Leslie was unable to stop thinking about that dizzying energy. She had been having strange bursts of panic and joy, emotions that seemed misplaced, out of context somehow, but they weren't debilitating. It was like she'd borrowed someone else's moods. Odd, but good. And she felt stronger, quieter, more powerful. She was certain it was an illusion, a result of her new confidence, but she still liked it.

The part she didn't like was how many fights she seemed to notice—or that they didn't frighten her. Instead she caught herself daydreaming of the Verlaine's customer. His name was almost clear when she thought of him, but he'd never told it to her. Why do I know …? She shook off that question and hurried to the open door of the supply room.

Ria

Once Leslie was in the room, Ria

Leslie looked around for a spot to sit. She settled on a pile of gym mats. "Where are Carla and Ash?"

Ria

Leslie suspected that she should be doing the same thing, but when Ria

"What's up?"

"Mom found my stash." Ria

"How mad was she?"

"Livid. I have to go back to that counselor. And" — Ria

Leslie felt like a weight was pressing on her chest as she asked, "For what?"

"She thinks it's from Ren. That I got it from him, so I can't … You shouldn't call or come over for a while. It's just… I didn't know what to say. I blanked." Ria

"Don't." Leslie knew her voice was harsh, but she wasn't surprised, not really. Ria

"I do." Ria

Leslie shook her head. "He's a bastard."

"Leslie!"

"Shh. I mean it. I'm not mad at you for letting her think whatever. Just stay clear of Ren and his crowd." Leslie felt ill at the thought of her friend under Ren's influence.

"You're not mad at me?" Ria

"No." Leslie was surprised by it, but it was true. Logic said anger made sense, but she felt almost peaceful. There was an edge of anger, like she was about to be mad but wasn't quite able to get there. Every emotion the past three days floated away before it grew intense.

She had the irrational thought that her emotions would settle once she got the tattoo finished—or maybe it was just that she was yearning for it, that bone-melting sensation that she felt when the tattoo needles touched her skin. She forced the thought away and focused on Ria

"It is."

"Okay, it is, but I'm not mad." Leslie gave Ria

"So how are you safe?"

Leslie ignored the question and stood up. She suddenly needed air, needed to be somewhere else. She gave Ria

"All right. See you in fourth period." Ria

“No. I’m out.”

Ria

"No. Really, I'm just—" Leslie shook her head, not sure she could explain or wanted to explain the strange feelings compelling her. "I want to walk. Go. I just … I'm not sure.

"Want company? I could ditch with you." Ria

"Not today." Leslie had an increasingly pressing urge to run, roam, just take off.

Ria

Leslie sighed. "Sweetie, it's not you. I just need air. I guess I'm working too much or something."

"You want to talk? I can listen." Ria

"Hold still." With the edge of her sleeve, Leslie rubbed away the black marks and said, "I just need to run it off. Clear my head. Thinking about Ren … I worry."

"About him? I could talk to him. Maybe your dad—"

"No. I'm serious: Ren's changed. Stay away from him." Leslie forced a smile to take the sting out of her words. The conversation was becoming entirely too close to topics she didn't like. "I'll catch you later or tomorrow, okay?"

Not looking at all happy about it, Ria

After Leslie left Bishop O.C., she wasn't entirely sure where she was headed until she found herself at the ticket window of the train station. "I need a ticket to Pittsburgh for right now."

The man behind the counter muttered something unintelligible when she slid the money across to him. Emergency money. Bill money. She was usually hesitant to spend her money on a few hours' trip to see a museum, but right then she needed to be somewhere beautiful, to see something that made the world feel right again.

Behind her, several guys started shoving each other. People around them began joining in, jostling one another.

"Miss, you need to move." The man glanced past her as he slid her ticket toward her.

She nodded and walked away from the fracas. For a brief moment, she felt like a wave of shadows surged over her, through her. She stumbled. Just fear. She tried to believe that, to tell herself that she'd been afraid, but she hadn't been.

The actual ride into Pittsburgh and the walk through the city were a blur. Odd things caught her eye. Several couples—or strangers to each other, by the looks of the very disparate clothing styles in one case—were embarrassingly intimate on the train. A beautiful boy with full sleeve tattoos dropped a handful of leaves or bits of paper as he walked by, but for a bizarre moment Leslie thought it was the tattoos flaking from his skin to swirl away in the breeze. It was surreal. Leslie wondered briefly at the oddity of it all, but her mind refused to stay focused on that. It felt wrong to question the odd things she'd been feeling and seeing. When she tried, some pressure inside her skin forced her to think of something, anything, else.