What If ... Your Past Came Back to Haunt You (14 page)

TATTOO PARLOR

Before you tattoo a name on your heart, be sure it's true love.

“T
his is the place,” Darcy said. She'd led Haley, Devon, Shaun and Irene to Tommy's Tattoos, the spot that had given her the little star on her wrist. Tommy's was a dingy storefront in the Floods with a hand-painted psychedelic sign. Everyone followed Darcy inside, clutching the designs they'd drawn in art class. Haley had even brought along her pathetic butterfly drawing, to prove to the others that she was just as serious about getting a tattoo as they were—even though she wasn't sure she'd really go through with it. It was just that everyone, especially Devon, seemed to think Darcy's tat was so cool, and Haley couldn't help feeling that she had to try to keep up with Blondie, even if the girl was only a freshman. Something about the way Devon looked at her rattled Haley.

Inside, a tattoo needle buzzed over the sound of blaring hip-hop music. A girl with stringy blue hair greeted them at a desk. Tattoos covered every inch of her arms like colorful vines. “You all getting tats today?” she asked.

“Yep, all of us,” Shaun said. “Me first.”

“Cool,” the girl said. “Go see Viper.” She pointed to a booth manned by a bald guy in a leather vest with no shirt underneath—the better to show off the blue mermaid on his chest. “You can all go watch if you want. It'll be a while before we can fit the rest of you in.”

Shaun sat down at Viper's table while the others gathered around. “What can I do you for?” Viper asked. “Is this your first?”

“Yes, sir. I am a tattoo virgin, but I promise I will be back for more.” Shaun pulled out the tiger he had drawn, stared at it and shook his head. “I wanted to get this on my butt, but then I changed my mind.”

“You're chickening out already?” Darcy asked.

“No, I just want a different picture for my first tattoo. It's got to mean something.” He waved at Irene to hand over her octopus doodle. “Rini, do you mind if I brand your octopus on my forearm?”

Irene grinned. “I'd be honored.” She gave her drawing to Viper to copy. Viper nodded appreciatively. “Nice work. Okay, kid, let's do this thing.”

He started tracing lines on Shaun's arm, outlining the future tattoo. Irene homed in, watching carefully, as if she was worried that Viper might somehow screw up her drawing. “Don't make the tentacles too short,” she warned.

“I got it, honey,” Viper said, sternly. “I've been tattooing skin for a long time. I know what I'm doing. Now, this may hurt a little. . . .”

Irene squinted at him. She wasn't about to take his word for it. She had to keep an eye on him or Shaun could be scarred forever by poorly drawn body art.

“Check this wall of unicorns,” Darcy said to Devon, pointing at a panel tacked to the drywall that formed Viper's booth. At least a dozen varieties of unicorns lined up among the stars, dragons, anchors, pinups and other suggested tattoo designs. Pink ones, white ones, unicorns with flowers on their heads, with barefoot princesses riding on them, with angel's wings, ridden by cats . . .

Devon laughed. “I had no idea unicorns could have pierced tongues.”

Darcy laughed too, conspiratorially, and turned away from Haley as if to leave her out of the conversation. “I know, right? I hate unicorns. They're so lame. And I hate the kind of girl who loves unicorns, you know what I mean? They're like the horsey type, only a hundred times worse.”

“I call them fairy children,” Devon said. “There was a whole clique of them at art school. Big users of glitter gel pens.”

“And dotting their
i
s with hearts,” Haley said, trying to find a way in. “Or stars. And putting sparkles on everything . . .”

Darcy and Devon just stared at her as if she'd said the dumbest thing they'd ever heard. But why was what she'd said any stupider than their dopey unicorn comments?

“So what kind of tattoo do you think I should get next?” Darcy asked, very pointedly to Devon and only Devon.

How about a witch?
Haley thought.
Or a tiny, tiny, annoying little mosquito, right where your brain is supposed to be?

“I don't know,” Devon said. “Do you want a little one, like your star?” He picked up her wrist to look at the star again. He seemed to take every opportunity to touch her tattoo. “Or a big one, like a dragon or something?”

“I think I'll stick with small and subtle for now,” Darcy said. “It's sexier, don't you think?”

Devon nodded. “How about a half-moon, to go with the star?”

Haley yawned. Irene and Shaun were completely caught up in watching Viper work, and Devon and Darcy were off in their own little ink-colored world. She had nobody to talk to, so she decided to try to insert herself between D and D again. “Are you really getting a tattoo today, Devon?”

“No,” he said. “They're cool, but I'm not into spending all those Benjamins on body art.”

“Little tats don't cost so much,” Darcy said, and just like that they fell back into an exclusive conversation. Haley realized Darcy was a tougher opponent than she'd thought. Devon had been a little short with Haley, as if he was impatient with her constant interruptions. How dare he? Was he really that into this Darcy chick? And was he done with Haley for good?

With nothing better to do, Haley checked her cell for messages. To her surprise her in-box was flooded with texts, and most of them had the same subject line: “Boob Tubing Babe.” Great. The last thing she wanted to think about was the humiliating Hillsdale Hauntings video of her ten-year-old self losing her bathing suit at Lake Tahoe. She skipped all the “Boob Tubing” messages and went straight to the two with nonembarrassing subject lines.

Huh,
Haley thought. Matt Graham? Spencer Eton's friend from boarding school? Haley hadn't heard from him in a while. What made him think of her all of a sudden?

Next she read:

Haley had never been to Storm King, but it was famous for having acres of rolling fields dotted with some of the best examples of modern sculpture in the country. Her father had once mentioned wanting to see it.

With a glance at Devon, who was still deep in some enthralling story with Darcy, Haley announced loudly, “Look at this, Irene. I've got invitations from two different boys for this weekend.” If Devon was so intent on flirting with Darcy in front of her, why not go ahead and torture him right back? “Alex Martin wants me to go out of town with him, and Matt Graham is begging me to come to the next SIGMA.”

She glanced at Devon to make sure he'd heard. He hadn't. Haley's plan seemed to be backfiring.

“Of course you're popular,” Irene said. “They both probably saw that video of you naked online—like everybody else in school.”

Haley's face flushed and she wanted to sink right through the floor. She hadn't thought of that response from Irene. But then, Rini always did like to cut the tall trees down. Of course—all these messages, this sudden burst of attention, was probably just the aftermath of that stupid video.

“Ow!” Shaun cried. Viper was really working the needle on his forearm now. “Ow! Dang it, that hurts! Rini, come back and hold my hand. Viper, dude, why didn't you warn me?”

“Um, I did,” Viper said over the whine of the needle.

“You said a
little,
” Shaun said. “You said it might hurt a
little
! You didn't say you were going to burn my arm off!”

“Calm down, you'll get through it,” Viper said. “Look at me, I've been through this dozens of times and I'm still breathing.”

“Hey—remember what I said about the tentacles!” Irene snapped.

Left to herself, Haley glumly watched Irene fuss over Shaun's tattoo while Devon and Darcy talked and laughed. Devon seemed so relaxed with Darcy, and Haley had never seen him so talkative with anyone, certainly not with her. What was it about Darcy that made him so different around her?

“Okay, you're done,” Viper finally told Shaun.

Shaun got up groaning from the table. “This better look amazing.”

“It will, trust me,” Viper said. “Okay, who's next? Irene?”

Irene nodded at Haley. “I'd better nurse Shaun for a few minutes. You want to go?”

Darcy looked over to hear Haley's response. It was almost as if she were saying
I dare you.

Haley looked at Shaun, overacting a bit but obviously in some pain, and then at her lopsided butterfly drawing. Was she really ready for this?

A tattoo for Haley? That's about as permanent as you can get. Her parents won't be thrilled, but maybe she doesn't care what her parents think anymore. Maybe she's in the mood for a little rebellion, tired of always being the overlooked good girl. Of course, she hasn't been exactly overlooked lately; the “Boob Tubing” video has made her kind of locally famous. Or even infamous. Maybe she should get a tattoo, if only to live up to her new reputation. Then she'd be more like Darcy, and some guys—Devon, for example—seem to find that type very attractive.

Is Haley's newfound reputation as Miss Naked what's really behind the sudden flurry of invitations, or are Alex and Matt seriously interested in her? Alex doesn't seem like the lascivious type, but then, he is a boy, so you never know. Matt Graham is another story, but he doesn't invite just anybody to those SIGMA parties. They're the most exclusive events in town.

If you think Haley is feeling competitive with the tattooed Darcy and is raring to rebel, have her
GET THE TAT
. If you think Haley shouldn't even consider getting a tattoo for one second, that she has enough problems to deal with at the moment and is getting plenty of attention already thanks to that video, go to,
DON'T DO IT
.

Then there are the boys. If you're sure Haley would love to go with Alex to see the sculptures at STORM KING, turn to
STORM KING
. If you think Haley would be more interested in seeing the kind of sculptures Spencer and his private-school buddies make with their empty beer cans, turn to
OLD HABITS.

Fate has brought Haley to an impasse: good girl or rebel? Should she go with the flow and give up on her reputation, or should she fight for it tooth and nail?

TEA AND SYMPATHY

Tuxedos do not gentlemen make.

“W
e're here,” Whitney said. “Birthday central.”

Sasha pulled up to the De Clerqs' palatial Hillsdale estate, which had been transformed to look like, well, a palatial
English
estate. Haley stepped out of the car and admired the over-the-top decorations. The house was surrounded by gigantic heaters to stave off the new Jersey December chill and create just the right balmy summer atmosphere.
My mom would flip,
Haley thought, glancing at the ginormous kerosene lamps. The house's front columns were draped with garlands of English roses in creamy whites and, in honor of the holidays, a few rich reds. A liveried footman greeted the guests at the door with a tip of his hat, and a maid dressed in nineteenth-century attire led them through the house to the vast formal “gardens,” flown in especially for the event. A huge glass conservatory had been erected near the pool, and all the planted paths leading up to it were lined with more gas heaters. Haley knew Coco, of all people, would be able to figure out a way to make it possible for them all to wear sundresses in December.

The double doors of the conservatory opened onto a lavish scene. Skirted tables were laden with platters of tea sandwiches, scones, clotted cream, jams, croissants and a tiered silver tower filled with macaroons, tea cakes and delicate pastries. Earl Grey was served in antique bone china cups with real silver teaspoons and fine linen napkins. Everything was perfect, and gorgeous, including the hostess.

“Hello! Hello! Come in. You brought a gift? You shouldn't have. There's a huge receiving table set up over there for presents.” Coco greeted her guests like the princess she was, dressed in an Empire-waist ivory silk Josephine gown. She was in her element, basking in the attention and the glamour, and it suited her.

Haley set her present down next to the towering pile on the gift table. She paused to take in the impressive room. English country flower arrangements bloomed over every table, and braids of blossoms dripped from the chandeliers. The place smelled heavily of cake and perfume. Coco had meticulously attended to every detail, to an almost fanatical degree. If Haley hadn't known it was a mere birthday party, she might have thought this was Coco's wedding/debutante ball.

She was surprised, too, at the number of adults mingling among Coco's school friends. Friends of the Etons, perhaps, Haley thought, or maybe adults invited by Coco to appeal to Mrs. Eton. Eleanor Eton, the future governor herself, was resplendent in an ice blue silk day suit. She was clearly crazy about Coco and led the girl through the room, introducing her to the adults as “the charming birthday girl, my almost daughter and the best thing that's ever happened to Spencer.” Coco beamed and practically curtsied at each introduction.

After a few minutes, the string quartet took a break and a dj took over the speakers. A few of the younger guests started dancing, though the music was still pretty staid, much too slow to dance to. They more sort of hugged and slowly rocked back and forth.
Well, here goes,
Haley thought. She couldn't spend the whole party watching from the sidelines. She took a deep breath and plunged into the packed conservatory to mingle.

As she waited for a crystal cup of punch, Haley heard a girl's voice behind her, whispering her name. Another girl hissed something back and giggled. Haley turned around and caught three well-dressed freshman staring at her and gossiping about the boob tubing fiasco. Her cheeks grew hot. So people were still talking about the video of Haley that was circulating online. She took her punch and looked for someone she knew.

“There you are, Buffy.” Spencer Eton, wearing a dove gray suit and holding a glass of “orange juice,” slapped Haley rudely on the back so that she almost spilled her drink. “Tally ho.”

Haley recoiled from Spencer's eyelash-curling liquor breath. His orange juice was obviously spiked with something a lot stronger than soda water. Spencer confirmed this theory by discreetly pulling a silver flask from his jacket and pouring a little more vodka into his glass. “Seen any good videos lately?” he said, slurring slightly. He wasn't just drinking—he was out and out drunk.

“Not lately,” Haley replied. “I'm waiting for your trashy SIGMA videos to end up online.” Coco was still busy being squired around by Spencer's mother. Haley felt awkward hanging out with the hostess's drunken boyfriend, but she didn't know who else to talk to. This party was beginning to feel like a field full of land mines—with every step she took, something could blow up in her face.

“Haley, you're looking fine as always.” Matt Graham, Spencer's old boarding school friend, kissed Haley on the cheek. “Did somebody say SIGMA? You know we're reviving it this weekend, right? At the Etons' humble abode.”

Haley caught Spencer elbowing Matt in the side. He was too drunk to be subtle. “Shut up—I'm not supposed to invite any of Coco's friends,” Spencer muttered.

“But dude, it's Haley,” Matt said. “We can make an exception.”

“No we can't,” Spencer said. “No friends of Coco's—not even the boob tuber.”

Haley felt like throwing the contents of her crystal glass in his face. The “boob tuber”? How drunk did Spencer have to be to say something that rude to her face?

Horrified, Haley walked away without a word and tried to lose herself in the crowd. She spotted Reese Highland off in a corner near the dessert table. He looked forlorn leaning on his crutches and watching the revelers dance, his left foot still in a cast.
At last,
Haley thought, someone too mannerly to insult her.

“Hide me,” she said to Reese. “Everybody in this room has seen me naked—and they won't let me forget it.”

Reese grinned. “Poor girl. I'm feeling out of it myself. But I've got your back. Stay here with me and we'll hide out together.”

“Thanks.” Haley reached for two chocolate-covered strawberries and gave one to Reese. “At least the food's good.”

“Awesome,” Reese said. “A whole lot better than the dancing.”

Haley laughed. They watched their classmates wriggle on the dance floor in their fancy clothes. Most of them looked like awkward kids at a bad school dance. Then Mia Delgado, dressed in a slinky, low-cut red gown, stepped onto the floor and started swaying by herself.

“That's a different breed, right there,” Reese said, and he was right. Tall and sinuous, Mia stood out from everyone else at the party. She moved with sexy confidence. There was nothing awkward or teenagery about her at all.

“Got to give her props, it's a bold move coming in here dressed like that,” Haley said.

From a table across the dance floor, Spencer, Matt and their private-school friends sat drinking their spiked juice and laughing loudly. “Mia, Mia,” they chanted. Mia ignored them and kept on dancing.

“She's pretty brave,” Haley said. She wouldn't have lasted a second on that dance floor by herself, knowing that everyone was talking about her.

“Hook me up, Mia, hook me up, Mia, hook me up . . .” Now Spencer and his friends were yelling louder. Haley thought she saw Mia flinch. She grabbed the hands of a nearby boy and let him twirl her around.

“Hook me up, Mia, hook me up. . . .” The chanting got louder. Finally Mia couldn't take it anymore. She ran out of the ballroom toward the bathroom.

“Rotten stuff,” Reese said. “She may never live that video down.”

Haley felt nervous. “I probably shouldn't have ever left the house today. Spencer and those guys could do the same thing to me.”

“They're thugs,” Reese said. “Don't mind them.”

“I think I'll get out of here before they get a chance to ruin my night too.” Haley said.

“I'll go with you,” Reese said. “I'm bored out of my mind.” Then, as if realizing he'd said something rude, he added, “Not with you. With the party, I mean.”

Haley smiled, for the first time all night. “Let me just make sure my mom knows she doesn't need to pick me up.” She opened her clutch purse and peeked at her cell phone. She had twelve new messages. What could that be about?

Scanning through them, she saw that they mostly seemed to be from random boys, some of whose names she didn't even recognize.
The video,
she thought grimly.
This is all because of that stupid video.

Then she noticed a message from Matt Graham. She glanced across the room and saw him sitting at Spencer's table. Why didn't he just come over and talk to her in person if he had something to say? She opened the message just out of curiosity. It said, “H, Come to SIGMA. XO Matt.”

She looked at him again, and this time he caught her eye. He flashed her a sly smile, then winked.

Some party, huh? Coco's ginormous birthday extravaganza was extravagant, all right, but that doesn't always guarantee a good time. Some people seem to be having fun—Coco first and foremost—but Haley isn't sharing the spirit of the occasion. And watching Mia flame out didn't exactly help. Hate to break it to you, Mia, but if you're looking for a blasé Continental attitude, you're going to have to look a lot farther than New Jersey.

At least Reese is behaving himself. That's nice, but not always thrilling. If you think Haley should play it safe and hang with Reese, taking refuge amid all this torturous embarrassment and negative attention, stick with the good guy on,
GOING PUBLIC.

Don't forget Matt Graham's persistent invitation to party at SIGMA. Who knows—maybe if Haley parties with the thugs in suits, she'll get them on her good side and they won't tease her about the embarrassing video. If you think Haley is feeling wild and curious, show up at Spencer's house on,
OLD HABITS.

Old habits die hard, they say, but playing it safe has its own risks—namely restlessness and boredom. Which route should Haley take? The first step is up to you.