Chapter One
Joi studied the multi-colored sketches along the wall of Harry’s Tattoo Parlor. She’d been in the shop with her teammates for the last twenty minutes trying to agree on one design. There were so many to choose from. They had narrowed their choices down to ten different types of basketball images, but couldn’t decide which would look the best at the base of their backs.
In a nearby room, what sounded like the drill dentists use to fill cavities could be heard, causing a few of the girls to have second thoughts.
“Are you sure this isn’t gonna hurt?” one of the younger players asked.
Sensing the player’s fear, the captain of the team said, “It’s too late to turn back now. We made a pact.”
“And we’ll look good at the step show Friday night,” the showboat of the team added. She loved extra attention. It was her idea to get the tattoos in the first place, recommending Harry’s from personal experience.
Joi didn’t want to admit it, but she was nervous, too. The thought of a tiny needle puncturing her skin several times was unnerving, yet she wanted to show her commitment to the team.
Rayven, Joi’s best friend, pulled her away from the others. “I don’t think this is a good idea,” she hummed in Joi’s ear.
“We promised,” Joi reminded her. “If we don’t go through with it now, we could ruin our winning streak.”
“I don’t believe in jinxes, and you shouldn’t either.” Rayven glanced around the dimly lit parlor. It looked more like a poorly renovated basement than a professional establishment. Apart from the bright lights in the two rooms reserved for the artists to create their masterpieces, there were only two lamps, one with a green bulb, the other white, but with a low wattage. The waiting and receptionist area was no bigger than a cheap studio apartment. A lounge sofa bursting at the seams and a couple of beanbags were the only places for customers to sit. “Is this place even certified?” queried Rayven.
The receptionist came out of the corner room with several boxes of latex gloves in her hand. “There’s no need to be afraid,” she said as she put the boxes in a cabinet by her desk. Tattoos covered almost every inch of her body. “My brother’s been doing this for five years. Our tools are clean and sterile, and we keep them in a safe place.” She smacked hard on a stick of gum while she spoke. “We’ve only had one complaint, and that was from my mom.” She twisted her ponytail into a bun on top of her head then pointed to the long, winding, colorful snake that stretched the entire length of her arm. “I got this when I was sixteen. It’s exactly like the one on my mom’s arm. She wanted her snake to be one of a kind.” The twenty-something receptionist cracked a smile and walked into a vacant room. “So,” she said with a smirk, “who wants to go first? My brother will be down in a minute.”
The team captain stepped forward. “I think we should go with something simple. How about the flaming basketball?”
“Ahh, good choice,” the receptionist replied.
Most of the girls agreed. Rayven, however, stared at the chosen image tight-lipped. The drill in the other room shrieked louder than before, and someone yelped in pain.
Rayven shook her head and plunged on the worn sofa, crossing both her hands and feet. “Uh-uh. Nope, I can’t do this.”
“You know if we lose our winning streak, we’re gonna blame you,” another teammate said, but Rayven didn’t budge. She wasn’t moved by her teammate’s threat.
“Well, whoever is going first needs to come on. We have quite a few appointments today. You all need to be done before five,” the receptionist told them.
Everyone looked at Rayven. The agreement was for the entire team to get tattoos. Most of the team gave Rayven an evil glare; she pretended not to notice. As her best friend, it was Joi’s place to smooth the situation so Rayven wouldn’t later be the object of ridicule.
“Why are you changing your mind?” Joi asked, not the least bit as angry as the team.
“I’m not going to do it.” Rayven walked to the waiting area and sat on the long sofa.
“I’m with Ray,” the younger player stated and sat in one of the beanbags. “I’m not ready to get something so permanent. Maybe if we win the championship, I’ll reconsider.”
“See what you’ve done?” the showboat yelled, but Rayven was not fazed by the teammate’s irritation. Her mind was made up.
Gripes and moans filled the small shop, and the receptionist grew impatient.
The co-captain rolled her eyes. “Well, I’m not changing my mind. I guess I’ll go first,” she said and followed the receptionist into a back room to get prepped.
The remaining players stared at Joi, and Joi, in turn, stared at Rayven.
“I’m not changing my mind,” Rayven stressed. “My mother will kill me . . . if that needle doesn’t.” She picked up a battered copy of Essence magazine. “You go ahead without me. I won’t be mad.”
Although the two friends were different in many ways, their love for basketball had bonded them as freshmen. Joi sat behind her during tryouts, secretly admiring the natural crinkles and waves in her hair.
Taylor, Joi’s mother and self-proclaimed fashion diva, would never let her get away with hair so wild and carefree. Joi and her younger sister, Leah, had regular appointments at their cousin’s beauty parlor. Maintaining fresh perms was a must. But last summer, Joi convinced Taylor that the mixture of sweat and a chemical relaxer would eventually damage her hair. She’d been wearing various braiding styles ever since.
Joi looked at Rayven, fiddling with the twists she’d finished two nights ago. “But we agreed to do this together,” Joi reminded her.
With one hand in her hair and the other flipping the pages of the magazine, Rayven responded, “Not this time, boss. I’m sorry.”
Joi leaned on Rayven’s shoulder, pouting in an effort to sway her decision one last time.
Sometimes Joi’s persuasive tactics worked. For several months, Rayven covered for Joi when she was with Markus and fibbed about the parties they went to. But this time Joi had gone too far. A tattoo would be a permanent reminder of her disobedience.
Rayven closed the magazine. “This doesn’t feel right. You and I both know we’ll get grounded, and I don’t know about you, but I like my freedom.”
Remembering the punishment she recently received for an unacceptable progress report, Joi thought little about how her mother would react. It’s not the worst that could happen, she reasoned. “It’s just a tattoo, Ray. Please . . .”
“I don’t think any of our parents would agree. We’ll be the only team that can’t play because we’re all grounded. And I doubt this is what our parents pictured us doing on an early dismissal day.” Rayven shook her head and reopened the magazine. “No, I won’t do it, and please don’t keep pressuring me.”
Respecting Rayven’s position, Joi eased up. “Okay, I won’t push. But Mother can’t punish me forever. I’ll take my chances.”