Poison Ink

by Christopher Golden

  And why am I so focused on buses?

  To avoid thinking about other things. Sammi knew that. In the eighth grade a bunch of other kids had told her that Kevin Mitchell wanted to ask her out. Every day for a week she had dreaded the prospect of running into him in the hall, both afraid that he would ask her out and worried that he wouldn’t. In the end, Kevin had taken her for pizza once, only to make them both realize they had nothing in common.

  That week of dreadful anticipation had faded in her memory, but this morning it came rushing back. She felt that way again for the first time since.

  The bus managed to lumber into the Covington High parking lot. Backpack slung over her shoulder, Sammi stepped off the bus last and joined the throng flowing into the school, trying to ignore the way her pulse throbbed in her temples. Tony Gregson, a hockey star who had been in her advanced English classes all through school, said hello as he passed. Sammi mustered a smile and kept it plastered on her face as she made her way up the stairs to the second floor corridor where her locker was located.

  Weaving in and out of the crowd, the hall deafening with chatter, she spotted T.Q. ahead and hurried to catch up.

  “Hey,” she said, falling into step beside her. T.Q. smiled. “Hey.” Then her smile faltered—the memory of Sammi’s betrayal rushing back—and a kind of sadness came over her face. “What’d you end up doing yesterday? Did you hook up with Cute Adam again?”

  Sammi made sure her smile-mask did not slip. She arched an eyebrow. “Duh. What did I say I was going to do yesterday?”

  “You went? You really did?” T.Q.’s face lit up with excitement and gratitude. Sammi had tainted everything on Saturday night, but it could be all right again, and it was obvious T.Q. wanted that as much as she did.

  Sammi felt sick.

  “I said I would.”

  Lowering her voice to a conspiratorial tone, T.Q. asked, “Where’d you get it?”

  They had slowed down, and now the flow of students passed around them, mostly freshmen and sophomores worried about getting to class on time. The juniors and seniors were never in quite as much of a hurry. Sammi glanced around guiltily, as if she were about to make some surreptitious drug deal.

  With a meaningful look at T.Q., she patted her lower abdomen, just inside her right hip.

  “Sweet. How big did you do it?” As she spoke, T.Q. idly touched the back of her neck where her hair hid her own tattoo.

  Sammi led the way to her locker, worked the combination, and pulled it open. Shielded by the door and T.Q., she tugged down the front of her jeans to show the inch-wide tattoo. Her heart thundered in her chest, and her throat went dry.

  T.Q. made a small squeal of delight and hugged her. “This is great. The girls are gonna be completely psyched.”

  They shared the same homeroom, so after a stop at T.Q.’s locker they managed to beat the bell into the room. T.Q. seemed unusually talkative, impatient to learn if she had made the basketball team—the list would be posted by noon—and Sammi found some of her anxiety going away. Things were going to be all right now.

  Between periods she saw Letty and Katsuko in the hall, but when she stopped to talk they were distant and made a lame excuse about needing to get to trigonometry early to talk to the teacher. Left standing by herself in the corridor, Sammi took a deep breath and brushed it off. It wasn’t as though she could have just flashed her tattoo there in the hallway, drawing all kinds of attention.

  After third period, she threw herself into the tide of people moving down the central stairwell to the cafeteria in the basement. A couple of Las Reinas nodded in greeting, going up the steps against the flow. Her all-time favorite teacher, Mr. Geary, who taught history and had always encouraged her music, stood by the main doors directing traffic and making sure nobody decided to use the prelunch chaos to make a break for it and blow off the rest of the day.

  The cafeteria was at the back of the school, its own wing, with three sets of metal doors propped wide open. The smell of today’s mystery meat made her stomach growl, and she remembered that she’d skipped breakfast. Her front right pocket bulged with the presence of her phone, and she hoped she’d have a few minutes before the girls showed up at lunch so she could text Adam. She needed a little reinforcement at the moment from someone outside her circle.

  Letty stood between two sets of cafeteria doors, waiting for her. They spotted each other at the same time, and a happy smile blossomed on Letty’s face.

  “Hey, chica.”

  Sammi went up to her, nervous and wondering if Letty would notice. “Hey. I guess you talked to T.Q.”

  “I did,” Letty said, falling into step with her. She bumped Sammi in the shoulder as they went down the five steps into the cafeteria. “I’d kiss you, but I’m not up for a scandal this week.”

  “Nothing wrong with a little scandal,” Sammi said. “Besides, if the boys think I swing both ways, you know how much they love that.”

  “Yep. The boys love lesbians. And they never seem to understand why that does nothing for us. What’s so hard to fathom about gay girls? Not really interested in entertaining guys.”

  They got into the lunch line and picked up trays, already craning their necks to see what the glass cases revealed. They would choose the least repulsive meal, just to have sustenance.

  “That’s why we hang around with you,” Sammi teased. “Gorgeous lesbian man-bait. You draw them in and the rest of us can snare them.”

  Letty’s eyes flashed. “Glad to know I’m useful for something.”

  Sammi rolled her eyes.

  The lunch ladies said hello, familiar by now with most of the upperclassmen, and Sammi chose a chicken parmigiana sandwich. Letty went with steamed vegetables and rice, rarely trusting the meat from the cafeteria.

  “That’s it,” she said as they filled water glasses, “I’ve got my life’s work ahead of me. I’m goin’ to culinary school and come back here and teach these ladies how to cook. Or I’m gonna have a show on a cooking channel and have every school in the country sign up and force the lunch ladies of America to watch it every day.”

  Sammi nodded her approval. “It’s a commendable mission.”

  By the time they walked back to the table, Caryn and T.Q. were in line. Katsuko had somehow gotten there early and already had a table waiting for them in the far corner where they always sat, in whatever combination shared a lunch period. Their schedules were such that Monday and Tuesday were the only days they were all together during lunch this semester, and those days were always cause for celebration.

  Letty sat down beside Katsuko. Sammi slid her tray onto the table across from them.

  Katsuko gave her a sly smile. “I hear you bit the bullet.”

  “I couldn’t let you guys down.”

  “What about your parents?”

  Sammi shrugged. “I’m with you. We’ll just have to make sure they never see it. It’s in an intimate location. I won’t be flashing it around.”

  “Except to Cute Adam,” Letty said, leaning back in her chair as though offering herself up. “Oh baby, I’ve got something to show you. Take a real close look. Closer. Closer. Cloooo-ser.”

  Katsuko snorted a little when she laughed and then covered her mouth in embarrassment, as if the sound had come from there.

  “Oh, please,” Sammi protested, grinning. “I only just met him. He hasn’t been promoted to tattoo inspector yet.”

  T.Q. and Caryn joined them, sliding into seats on either side of Sammi.

  “So, did you show them yet?” T.Q. asked.

  Sammi rolled her eyes. “I’m not yanking my pants down in the middle of the cafeteria.”

  “What’s stopping you?” Letty asked.

  Caryn nudged her. “Come on. Let’s see.”

  Sammi hesitated, but thought this might be perfect. Any nervousness, any blushing, they’d just chalk up to embarrassment. The table was in the corner anyway. She stood up quickly and refused to draw attention to herself by glancing around.

>   “Is anyone watching?” she asked in a whisper.

  “No, you’re good,” T.Q. said.

  The other girls’ attention was riveted on her hands as she slipped her fingers into the waist of her jeans. No way would she unbutton or unzip them. Instead, she sucked in her belly and just tugged them down in the front, far enough to let them see the top half of the tattoo.

  “Good for you, girl,” she heard Caryn say.

  Letty gave a low wolf whistle and a silent golf clap. But Katsuko’s smile fell and she frowned deeply, staring at the tattoo.

  “It’s different,” she said.

  Oh shit, Sammi thought. Her skin prickled with warmth and her heart raced.

  “What do you mean? It’s the same design,” she said.

  Now all of them were looking more closely. She wanted to pull her jeans up and sit down but had to prove herself.

  Caryn shook her head. “No, she’s right. The hole in the center is smaller and the waves dip more at the top.”

  Sammi glanced around self-consciously. Some people were staring, and she made a show of reacting to being observed, covering her tattoo and returning to her seat.

  “It’s not a big deal,” she said. “It’s the same design. You can’t expect him to do it exactly alike every time, like a machine or something.”

  T.Q. had a crestfallen expression on her face. Sammi couldn’t look at her.

  “Ours are all the same,” Katsuko said, pushing her curtain of black hair away from her eyes. “Identical. Did you really go back to Dante?”

  Here it is, Sammi thought. Cards on the table. How could she lie outright, to their faces? If they suspected a lie, all they had to do was have Letty drop by Dante’s and ask.

  “Not exactly,” she began. “But what difference does it—”

  “It’s not real,” Letty said sharply. Her mouth had turned into a thin line of anger and her eyes narrowed.

  The others all seemed confused.

  “Define ‘real,’ Katsuko said.

  Letty sniffed in disgust. “She won’t show it to us again, or you could see for yourself. I didn’t even notice until you said it wasn’t the same, but Sammi just had this done yesterday? Where’s the swelling? Where’s the redness? Mine’s still healing, still going down, but hers looks fine. It’s gotta be henna, or airbrushed. In a week or two, it’ll be gone.”

  On Saturday night, they’d been hurt and disappointed. Now Katsuko and Caryn only shook their heads and glared at her, mouths twisted in disgust and anger.

  “Sammi?” T.Q. asked, gentle as ever. “Tell them they’re wrong.”

  That moment was the worst; T.Q. still believing in her, still hoping. Sammi could only hang her head.

  Letty stood first, the legs of her chair squeaking on the linoleum as she slid back, rose, and picked up her tray. One by one, the others got up as well. Sammi wished they would yell at her, so that maybe she could try to explain why she had done it. But they walked away, moving to another table, and left her in the corner alone.

  All eyes in the cafeteria must have been on her, but Sammi did not turn to look. She kept her back to everyone, pushing her food around with a fork. She’d lost her appetite again.

  6

  T he rest of the day Sammi walked the halls of Covington High in a constant state of humiliation. In sixth grade she’d had a recurring dream about showing up late for school, completely naked. As she moved from class to class, from locker to bus line, she felt that dreamlike hyperreality envelop her. Every glance or whisper troubled her. No matter how she told herself they weren’t talking about her, that a lot of people hadn’t even noticed the way her friends had abandoned her and it simply wasn’t interesting enough gossip for the rest of the school to care, still she felt exposed.

  Her skin prickled with pins and needles all day, her cheeks burning with embarrassment. Worse yet, a stone had somehow exchanged places with her heart. Cold, hard stone. It made Sammi walk more slowly, made it hard for her to lift her chin, made it hard to breathe and to swallow.

  In her entire life, she’d never felt so lonely. Without the girls, Sammi floated at sea, cast adrift. She might as well have been the only one in school who spoke English, for all the good the rest of them would do her.

  She had other friends, and she kept telling herself that. But they weren’t her real friends, not close. Not intimate. For the first time, she hated being a floater. In all the school there was no one to whom she could turn for reassurance, for a safe harbor. Before her final class of the day, she huddled in a stall in the girls’ room and sent Adam a text message.

  today’s a disaster. can u talk later?

  Sammi waited as long as she could, even past the bell to begin class, but Adam did not reply. When she hurried into psychology late, enduring the wrathful gaze of Mr. Sullivan—the knitting of those bushy eyebrows—she had to bite her lip to stop herself from crying.

  Which pissed her off.

  By the time psych ended and Sammi threaded through the crowded halls to her locker, some of the hurt and humiliation had turned to anger. When she saw Katsuko coming in the opposite direction, she stared into her eyes for a second and then looked away. They brushed past one another, shoulders coming into contact.

  “Bitch,” Katsuko muttered.

  Sammi flinched. The word cut deeply, but instead of blood, the wound filled with anger. She gritted her teeth and willed her heart to go cold against the girls—against her friends. If they were going to take things that far, then to hell with them.

  She jammed her books into her backpack and slammed her locker. As she left the school, she kept her eyes fixed firmly in front of her. Sammi refused to look at anything except what was straight ahead. She raised her eyes just long enough to mark the location of her bus and then headed in that direction. Out of the corner of her eye, she caught sight of T.Q.’s hair—as always, the girl was impossible to miss.

  Katsuko had always tended to be arrogant and Caryn had her temper, but if any of them would give her the benefit of the doubt, it would be T.Q. For a second she hesitated, wishing she could just put an end to the emotions that had wound her up so tightly. But then Sammi pushed on, getting in line for her bus. She had tried to deceive them, had lied to all of them, but they had to know why. At least they could have given her a chance to explain.

  So much for sisters, she thought, stepping up onto the bus.

  Once in her seat she pulled out her cell phone to find no messages. Adam hadn’t replied to her text yet, and why should he? They’d just met. Now she regretted having sent it at all. Sammi had never been one of those girls who thrived on drama, who stoked it up like a fire. But if she started unloading all of this crap on Cute Adam, he’d start seeing her that way for sure.

  Mistake.

  As the bus started to rumble away from the sidewalk, she rested her forehead on the back of the seat in front of her. Some of the tension and anger that had coiled up in her all afternoon seeped away, and she felt her muscles relaxing.

  “Sammi?”

  Frowning, she looked up. On the seat in front of her, a sophomore kid named Eli Burns had turned on his knees to face her.

  “The thing, at lunch? Totally harsh,” he said. The pity in his eyes made her fists tighten. Eli shrugged. “Just thought someone should say it. Whatever it was about, they were total bitches.”

  The chunk of ice that she had willed her heart into becoming did not melt, nor did she flush with either embarrassment or rage. Instead, she felt the color drain from her face and just stared blankly at him.

  Eli blinked, cocked an eyebrow, and turned around in his seat. “Oookay. Maybe it isn’t them.”

  Sammi felt like slapping him on the back of the head. Instead, she sat rigid in her seat and waited as the bus made its rounds, bristling at the delay every time the vehicle groaned to a stop to disgorge some freshman or sophomore. Most of the juniors who did not yet have their driver’s licenses managed to catch a ride with someone who did. Sammi and the girls had tal
ked about it—had agreed that they would all ride the bus and ignore the snide looks it brought them—but this afternoon she would rather have walked home.

  The sky remained gray, threatening more rain, but not a drop fell.

  Eli might have been looking at her when she got up to get off the bus. Sammi kept her eyes front, pretending to be the only person on board. She moved along the aisle, then went down the steps and dropped to the curb three blocks from her house. Ahead of her were two freshman girls who’d gotten off before her. The bus rolled away, belching dark gray exhaust, and Sammi held her breath until the breeze had carried away the cloud of fumes.

  If she’d wanted to, she could have caught up to the freshman girls. But she’d never bothered with them before, and today wouldn’t change that. She hung back until they had turned down Winchester Road, then hooked her thumbs through the straps of her backpack and picked up her pace.

  Her house should have seemed welcoming to her, but on that gray day, and with no one home, it had an ominous stillness that gave her no comfort. Sammi took out her keys and let herself in, then let her backpack slide to the floor. She left the door open, letting the September breeze in through the screen on the storm door.

  The empty house sighed as if grateful for her presence.

  Sammi stepped out of her shoes and went up the stairs to her room. As she lay down on her bed, she flipped open her cell phone. Texting Adam had been a mistake. They’d been out exactly once. Putting her troubles on him would probably scare him off fast.

  He still hadn’t texted her back.

  “Smart move, Holland,” she whispered. Her thumb hovered over the phone’s keypad. She wanted to call Caryn, or Letty, to put all of this behind them, but a wave of bitterness swept over her. No way would she call. Sammi had already apologized, and they had totally overreacted.

  No, it was their turn.

  For a second she fought the temptation to call Cute Adam, just to have someone to talk to, but then she would be verging into stalker-girl territory.

  Snapping the phone shut, she tossed it on the bed and got up, walking to her computer. Sammi logged onto her online journal, and her friends list popped up, revealing that Caryn had already gotten home and gone online.