Ink is Thicker Than Water (Entangled Teen) by Spalding Amy

Author:Spalding, Amy [Spalding, Amy]
Language: eng
Format: epub
Tags: teen fiction, tattoos, YA romance, first love, tattoo parlor, best friends, family stories
Publisher: Entangled Publishing, LLC
Published: 2013-12-03T00:00:00+00:00

Mom really wants to drive Sara to the airport on Friday, but instead Camille is swinging by to pick her up. I’m meeting Oliver to hang out soon, but I wait on the front porch and pretend to be jotting down ideas for next week’s story when really I just want to bear witness to all of it. Or stop it completely, like I’m going to single-handedly save my family from the unraveling I see Camille capable of starting.

Camille’s car pulls up, and I make very serious business of writing down story ideas so that she won’t look over my shoulder and see so far I’ve just made a list of songs that could play if I ever get around to having sex with Oliver. (I cross out The Beatles’ “Why Don’t We Do It in the Road?” but I’m still sort of laughing about my genius thought. Is laughing during sex considered bad form?)

“Hello, Kellie,” Camille says as she walks up the steps to the porch. She is dressed in jeans like Kaitlyn owns, a pair I remember her using her fancy Amex platinum card on even though I’d insisted her butt had looked just as good in the jeans she was wearing from Old Navy. It’s weird I hardly talked to Kait this week. I’d been someone who believed the inherent promise in signing yearbooks and school photos BFF. And therefore I had no idea a predator was maybe moving in this whole time: the allure of cool and my terminal resistance to it.

“Is Sara ready?” Camille asks.

I jump up and open the door, where both Sara and Mom are standing. For some reason I have the urge to see Mom throw her arms around Sara and demand she doesn’t go, but why would Mom do that? Why should Mom do that, except for of course keeping our family from collapsing?

…Is it weird I actually think that?

“Call me as soon as you get in,” Mom tells Sara.

“I’ll try. It’ll be late and—”

“Call me,” Mom repeats, touching Sara’s face with both her hands. “And have fun, sweetie.”

“Thanks.” Sara waves at me as she picks up her suitcase. “See you, Kell. Thanks for helping me pack.”

“Of course,” I say, even though I want to throw her suitcase away from her as a delaying tactic while I beg her not to leave us. “Thanks for imparting your geometry genius.”

“Ha.” She waves and gets into Camille’s car. Maybe I should take comfort that Sara’s clearly not making this some big, dramatic good-bye. But I still feel the metaphorical earth metaphorically shifting.

Once Camille’s car pulls away, I run up to my room, deposit my notebook safely in my desk drawer, switch my faux-vintage Monkees T-shirt for one from my shopping trip with Mom (brown and fitted with little buttons on the cuffs I think are kind of sophisticated), and dash back downstairs. Probably better to just not think about Sara or Camille for awhile. “I’m going out.”

“Wait a minute, young lady.”

Young lady? Luckily, when Mom walks into the room, I can tell from her smile she’s kidding.

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