ELENA
My birthday was coming. Sixteen.
I found myself staring at a tattoo parlor. My mom would kill me, but once it was on, well, she’d have to deal with it.
I went in and hid underneath my hoody. Inside it was quiet, accept for a girl in her late teens, with dark hair tied up in high short ponytails against her head.
She was chewing bubblegum and had a goth vibe going on. Her arms were covered in ink.
She looked up from her magazine.
“Hi,” she said, smiling. “Can I help you?”
I nodded as I walked toward the desk. “Can you keep a secret?”
I walked out with a tattoo. The artist, Kevin, and receptionist, Judy, said that they wouldn’t tell a single soul. It wasn’t as sore as I thought it would be. And I was still contemplating the design. I didn’t do it for him. I did it for me. It wa
