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After school, I have to make up a Chemistry I test. I get the privilege of being in here with Trevor Watkins. I’d heard he was out with the flu last week. I finish my test in less than nine minutes. Mr. G wants me to stay until he’s done grading.
Trevor returns his paper shortly after I hand mine in. He’s wearing a burgundy sweater over a white button-up that neatly covers his khaki pants. I have on the same uniform burgundy sweater and white-collar shirt. Instead of khaki pants, I wear a plaid knee-length skirt with knit tights.
Trevor brushes up against my leg when he walks by. We had to have a desk between us while we took the test, but now that it’s over, Trevor sits behind me. Mr. G isn’t paying us any attention.
Trevor smells earthy, like patchouli and something spicy. He taps on my right shoulder. I twist my neck to the side and find a folded note being handed to me. I open it, trying to make as little noise as possible.
You were a total baddie for walking outside last Monday. I heard about it.
I guess that was a compliment so I write Thanks and pass the note back to him. The note lands back over my shoulder.
What are u doing after this?
Jessa’s waiting to take me home so basically my plans consist of homework and maybe a nap.
I write Homework and pass it back.
It returns to my desk.
Think you can go somewhere with me?
Is Trevor asking me out? No. He’s just asking me to go somewhere with him.
Where? I ask.
Come with me and find out.
I can’t just go with him. Or can I? Why not? It’s not like I have anything else going on at home. And I’m pretty sure Dad is where he always is, having a meeting with the church about his church for Las Vegas.
OK. I write back. I’m starting to feel exhilarated like I did last week when I walked out into the storm.
I don’t think about anything else, not even texting Jessa about my new plans.
We get our tests back and I pass with a 98 percent. Mr. G’s tests are easy. You’d have to be a moron not to pass. Trevor holds the door open for me as we walk out of the building. Chivalrous. Nice. I make a mental check mark on my list of qualifications.
I follow him to his Chevy Impala. It has to be like a 1988 or ‘89. It’s clean too; chrome wheels and a new coat of candy blue paint. I’m into cars, one of the perks of being an only child with a father who’s a car lover.
Trevor doesn’t open my car door for me. That’s unfortunate, he loses a point. I wait for him to unlock his door so I can get in.
“What time do you have to be home?” Trevor asks. “I know your dad got you on lock and key.”
I shrug like it’s not a concern.
Trevor backs out of the parking space. “Still not talking, huh? How do we communicate if you ain’t gon’ talk to me?”
He can’t read my mind like JJ? He misses another point. Just kidding. No one’s a mind reader. It’s unfair for me to compare him to JJ. Although, JJ definitely would’ve opened my car door.
Trevor reaches across me, “Scuse me,” he says as he quickly pulls out a bag of cough drops. He’s quick, but not quick enough. Shiny, condom wrappers catch my eye.
“Sorry," Trevor says. "I still got a little bit of a cold, but I don’t think I’ll get you sick. You want one?”
I don’t have a cold. Why do I need a cough drop? Trevor tells me why. “You haven’t been talking so there’s less air going into your mouth. Your breath is probably on hum status right now.”
Oh wow. He just slick tried to tell me my breath stinks. He laughs and I notice his pretty white teeth and the one gold tooth too. I’ll give him a bonus mark for brushing and flossing, but that gold, ummm...I don’t know about that. Lots of other girls think that’s hot. I disagree.
Trevor might be right about the breath thing. I hold my palm open for him to drop me a cough drop. He tilts the bag and all the cough drops spill into my hand, with some falling on the floor.
Dang! I don’t need that many. My breath isn’t that bad.
“My bad. Just take what you want. I’ll pick the rest up later,” Trevor says.
I admire the leather seats he has in front. He’s left it as a bench instead of replacing it with bucket seats. The back of the car looks better than the front though.
“Your ol’ man got one a dese cars, don’t he?” Trevor asks.
I chew on the side of my cheek as I recall what JJ said about people talking as though words start with “d’s”. My dad does not have an Impala which means Trevor must not know a thing about cars or hasn’t paid much attention. I shake my head no.
“Gotta keep my eyes on the road sweetheart. Can’t see ya moving ya head as a response,” Trevor tells me.
Then how did he know I just responded? Whatever.
“Can you listen to rap music?” he asks.
I nod again. He can see me. I know he can. Do people think I don’t listen to music? That’s absurd! At a stop light, Trevor uses his phone to turn on a song.
There’s talking at the intro and then the beat drops. I’ve heard this on the radio before so I start bobbing my head to the beat.
Trevor starts grinning. “Ok! I see you, girl. So you do know good music when you hear it. And you got rhythm.”
Of course I have rhythm. Didn’t he see me at the skating rink? The guy on the song starts rapping the first lyric. It’s full out cursing for the first three stanzas. I don’t even know what this person is talking about. I stop bopping my head.
“Too much cursing for you?” Trevor asks me. Even though he asks, he doesn’t turn the music off nor decrease the volume. I don’t wanna seem uncool so I shake my head no. Finally he turns the music down, for which I’m grateful. It was starting to get a little uncomfortable.
“You know Clove, I don’t know how we gon’ work this out if you not gon’ talk to me. Relationships take communication.”
Who says I want to be in a relationship with him? And I am communicating, just maybe not in the way he wants me to. JJ would know exactly—-wait. I have to stop comparing Trevor to JJ. I don’t even know why I’m doing it.
Jessa texts me. Are you still taking a test?
Oh whoops. I definitely need to communicate with her right now.
Me: left with Trevor
Jessa: What?! How long ago?
Me: 3 min
Jessa: thanks alot
She’s upset but it hasn’t been that long.
Jessa: Be careful. He’s tricky.
Something must of went down between the two of them and I need to find out what.
Trevor is driving south of Smalltown towards a neighboring town that’s still a part of the city. I wanna know where we’re going but I’ll find out soon enough. I’m not gonna waste my fresh cough drop breath on that question.
“So....do you and JJ go out together often? Heard y’all was at the bookstore sharing tea and crumpets and stuff. You asking him to the Sadie Hawkins dance?”
I was going to shake my head no but that answer doesn’t cover both of the questions he asked me.
“We’re just friends. No.”
“So she speaks,” Trevor says. “Are you saying no that you’re not going to the Sadie Hawkins dance or no you and JJ don’t go out together often? I mean having coffee and sharing a cookie together seems like a date to me.”
Mars has a big mouth. “It was cold. We had tea. We’re just friends,” I repeat. Now it’s Trevor’s turn to nod. And he does it slowly.
“You sure? He’s kinda...” Trevor pauses as though he’s thinking carefully. “Protective. Yeah that’s the word. He’s protective of you and so is Xavier. You don’t like either one of them?”
“No.”
“No you’re not sure? Or no, you don’t like them?”
If he’d quit asking me two questions at once, this wouldn’t be so confusing. This is my time to be clear and use my voice so things don’t get misconstrued. “We’re all just friends.”
I’m ready for this 21 Questions game to be over but I guess I’m not being fair. If he wants to get to know me, then I need to put in a little more effort. “I don’t think I’m going to the dance.”
We stop at a traffic light and Trevor puts his arm on the back of my seat or our seat. His hand slowly sweeps my hair off my neck and gives me a small sensation inside.
“Why not?” he asks.
That’s a good question. Why aren’t I going to the dance? We leave for the college tour at midnight, I’ll have plenty of time to attend the dance. I need to get to know Trevor more before I ask him to go with me.
Trevor pulls into a parking space in front of a tattoo and piercing shop. Alarms are sounding in my head but I turn them off. This is part of having adventure and being dangerous for once.
This time Trevor does open my car door as well as the door to the parlor. “My lady,” he says and bows. I add more points. A bell chimes as we walk in and I’m greeted by the smell of incense and sterile alcohol. Jazz plays in the background: Thelonious Monk. I only recognize it because Xavier and JJ listen to this sometimes.
On the walls of the shop, rules are posted along with tattoo art and seductive photos of tattooed women. A girl with pink hair and a bunch of piercings on her face sits on a stool behind the cash register, reading a book and blowing a wad of purple bubble gum.
A short, stocky guy with a snapback cap and a long black beard gets up when he sees us.
Trevor gives the guy a handshake that turns into a one-armed hug. “What up, Unc?”
“What up, nephew!” The guy says. Trevor introduces me to I guess his uncle. “This is Clove. She’s here to watch me get my new tatt.”
My eyes open real wide.
“Dis my Uncle Kinsey,” Trevor says to me. Kinsey extends his hand and I shake it nervously.
Kinsey looks at Trevor. “Does she talk?”
Trevor explains, “She goin’ through some thangs but I’ma get her talkin’ soon enough. Remember that real bad accident out by the skate rink...”
I tune out as Trevor and Kinsey talk about how bad the accident was. I veer away from them and look at different stuff on the walls: Birds, Angel wings, praying hands, and fancy lettering.
Kinsey calls out to me. “Ay sweetheart, I’m sorry to hear that was your mama.”
I nod a thanks and listen as Kinsey talks to Trevor. “You got dat document I need, Nephew? I know you family and all but the shop wants me to have that and a copy of your I.D. I can’t be gettin’ in no trouble. Ya feel me?”
Interesting. They talk alike.
Trevor pulls out a folded paper from his pocket along with his I.D. Kinsey takes both of them and begins scanning and jotting down stuff.
As we wait for Kinsey, Trevor leans against the counter and his eyes slowly go from my feet to my chest. I swallow hard. With his finger he tells me to come to him and, like a little girl, I obey, stopping myself at a good distance in front of him.
“What you think I should get?” he asks.
I place my hand over my chest. Me? He’s asking me this? I don’t think I should make that decision; I know nothing about him. It’s time to be bold again. I’m going to have to talk but before I say anything he says, “I think you’d be cute with a nose ring. A little stud...right...there.”
He puts his finger lightly to my left nostril and I tilt my head back at his touch. From behind the counter, Kinsey agrees. Which is expected since it’s his shop and he wants my money. I view the price list posted on the wall.
The price for a nose piercing ranges from $60 to $80 depending on the earring and placement. There’s a poster showing six different ways the nose can be pierced and nine different types of studs. I’ve seen people with nose rings before and I always thought they were cool, but I never imagined myself with one. There’s enough going on with my face without me having to draw more attention to it. But the idea of getting one sounds...not like me, unpredictable.
“I can tell you’re thinking about it,” Trevor says. “Get your boy Xave to make you a fake I.D.”
I frown and crinkle my eyebrows. What does he mean?
Trevor rubs his chin. “You do know that’s what Xavier does right? Why do you think he always has so much cash?”
Xavier does always seem to have money, but I thought it was because he worked on computers for people. At least that’s what he told me. In a way I suppose that isn’t a lie.
“Don’t get a fake,” Kinsey rubs his full beard. “We can tell...or at least I can. Just get your parents’ consent. Most parents aren’t against it if you ask.”
Trevor tells him I’m a PK. Which isn’t completely true. Dad’s not a full-out preacher yet. Just a youth minister. He only preaches every now and then.
Kinsey doesn’t seem surprised. “I get plenty of PK’s in here. They try using fakes sometimes or come with an aunt or uncle trying to pass them off as they parent.”
Even if I wanted to get one, I don’t have that kind of cash and I don’t have an aunt or uncle here that could help me out with that. Aunt Didi, Mama’s sister, lives in Atlanta. Uncle Jerome, my Dad’s brother, lives in Las Vegas.
Kinsey finishes filling out the paperwork and the bell chimes as another girl walks in. The pink-haired girl with a lot of piercings talks to her.
“Whatchu gettin’, nephew?” Kinsey asks Trevor.
“Well, guess I’ll have to go with my original plan since Clove here won’t say nothin.” Trevor smirks at me. “I’m getting her name on my arm.”
My eyes feel like they belong to a cartoon character. My jaw drops and the cough drop falls to the ground. I bend down to pick it up and Kinsey points to a trash can. Him and Trevor share a laugh that sounds more like pigs snorting.
“Relax sweetie,” Trevor says. “I’m jokin’.”
Who gave him permission to call me sweetie? Trevor tells Kinsey what he’s getting. “Number nine on the wall. I trust you cause you’ve done it before so no need to draw it out. Just need it to say ‘Corinthians 4:9’.”
Trevor winks at me. Is this why he brought me, so I could watch him get praying hands and a Bible verse tattooed on his arm? Am I supposed to be impressed because he knows a Bible verse?
Maybe I am. What’s uncanny is that I’m also thinking about Leviticus 19:28, which says “...do not mark tattoos on your body. I am the lord.”
“First Corinthians or Second Corinthians?” Kinsey asks Trevor. “I know which it is but I wanna know if you know.”
Trevor has a slight smile on one side of his face. “Which one is it, Clove?”
I honestly don’t know so I have to check in my Bible app. Either verse could be something he wants on his arm.
“Depends,” I tell him.
“On what?”
“What you’re trying to say.”
Trevor quotes, “We are struck down, but not destroyed.”
Ok, I’m more than a little impressed.
“Second Corinthians,” Kinsey and I say at the same time. He either knows because he’s tattooed it plenty of times or he’s read the Bible.
“What’s your church?” Kinsey asks me.
Trevor answers. “God’s Light.”
Kinsey hits him on the shoulder, a signal that he wanted me to say it for myself. It’s evident that Trevor is trying to show me that he knows way more about me than I know about him. He’s checking more boxes on my requirement list. I text Xavier: Can u make me a fake?