Chapter 35
Chapter Thirty-Five
Oscar
The four of us are in a kind of nook, out of sight so we can’t see the rest of the warehouse. It’s kind of dark, but we have desk lamps directed at our arms so Benji and Lola can focus. It’s been such a long night that I feel sleepy even though I’m being mutilated by a cray-cray.
“It hurts,” Henri says to me like it’s my fault.
I jerk out of my stupor. “Of course it hurts! They’re sticking needles in you.”
Benji raises his head. “You two shut up, please. I can’t concentrate.”
“He’ll make a mess,” Lola confirms, her eyes glued to Henri’s arm. “Me, on the other hand, I don’t get distracted easily.”
“That’s bullshit,” Benji mutters as he takes a piece of Lola’s T-shirt and swipes at my arm.
“Did you disinfect it?” Henri asks him.
“Yeah, princess.” He shakes his head in disgust. “You two are total dweebs.”
“We’re not!” Henri protests. “It’s usual for people to take precautions doin’ stuff like this.”
Benji narrows his eyes. “Maybe in your world, but in my world, we don’t fucking need coddling.”
Does he not realize by now that he won’t win an argument with Henri?
“Sure you don’t.” Henri replies. “You’re too stu—”
“Don’t finish that sentence, freak, or I’ll tattoo Loser on your forehead.” The needle digs into my arm hard enough to make me wince.
“Enough,” I bark. “Henri, shut up. Benji, stop trying to drill through to my bone.”
Henri isn’t impressed by my interruption. “You tell me to shut up one more time, I’m gonna punch you in your ugly face.”
“Ouch. I’m scared.” Apparently I don’t know when to shut up either.
“You should be since you’re too much of a sissie to hit me back.”
“I’ll push you off a cliff when no one’s looking.”
“Hold still,” Lola murmurs to Henri as she shakes her fist at me.
“Whatever,” Henri says as she drops her arm to the table.
“Good comeback,” I mutter.
“Good comeback,” she snarks.
The ink is starting to take shape when I hear the front door to the gang hangout slam open We all jump.
“Shit,” Benji says as he studies my arm. “Your skull is going to have an extra-long blood drip.”
I barely register the pain as my heart beats hard in my chest.
“What’s going on?” Henri whispers.
“How should I know?” I reply still pissed at Henri for being such a BIH.
Then we hear Hangman bellowing. “Renfrew, where the fuck are you?”
Then I hear Selkie say, “Keep your voice down. Everyone is sleeping.”
Hangman sounds confused as he says, “What the fuck is wrong with her?”
“Hard to narrow it down,” Dad replies.
It’s a good comeback, but I don’t have time to enjoy it. “Oh oh,” I say to Henri, who by this time has abandoned her chair and is peeking around the corner.
“Yeah,” she whispers as she pulls her head back. “Your dad and my mom. They weren’t kidnapped after all.”
“You thought they were kidnapped?” Lola whispers over my shoulder, her hot breath on my neck making me almost forget how much trouble I’m gonna be in.
“We thought Renfrew had them,” I explain as I put some space between us.
Benji starts laughing. When we shush him, he giggles in whispers.
“So what’s the big deal?” Lola asks.
“What’s the big deal?” Henri says loud enough that I elbow her.
She glares but lowers her voice. “The big deal is that first, we came to the clubhouse and tried to join your gang and second, you were tattooing us. They’ll so have a cow.”
Lola doesn’t get it. “So what? You wanted to join the gang.”
“No we didn’t,” I say with agitation. “That was just our cover story. We came to rescue our parents.”
Benji scratches his cheek. “Why didn’t you just say?”
“Duh,” Henri replies. “You think we were gonna waltz in and tell Renfrew that we were just dropping by to pick up mom and dad?”
“We don’t have a death wish,” I add.
“But it doesn’t seem like they need rescuing,” Lola says.
“Is it too many drugs or were you born that way?” Henri asks.
Lola doesn’t realize it’s an insult. “Born this way, I guess.”
“What’re we gonna do?” Henri says like I have the solution. “If mom and your dad see our tattoos, they’re gonna kill us.”
“Holy, that’s awful.” Lola stares off into the distance, then smiles. “You could stay with us. The gang will keep you safe.”
“Not literally kill us,” I hiss. “It’s an expression.”
“Even so, you guys are righteous,” Benji says forgetting that he called us dweebs just a moment ago. “You could live with Lola and me.”
Live with a circus ringmaster and a spaced-out girl. It’s soooo tempting. “No, we have to go with them. Dad’s gang will go T-Rex on your gang if we don’t get out there. And seriously, you don’t want that.”
“I got an idea,” Henri says as she looks Benji over. “Give us your jacket and shirt. They’re long-sleeved so we can hide the tattoos until we figure out how to tell the parents.”
“Or we could just say we were forced to,” I reply.
Henri looks at me like I’m stupid. “Yeah because these two are really scary-looking and mean.”
Lola misses the sarcasm. “We’re not mean. We’re artists.”
I glance at my ink. Hash is Van Gogh compared with these two.
“You’re right,” I concede to Henri against every instinct in my body. To Benji, I say, “Give us your clothes.”
“No,” he protests. “They’re my best clothes.”
Sadly, I believe him. “We’ll give them back.”
Henri backs me up. “We’ll get them dry-cleaned and everything.”
Lola seems confused. “How will you give them back? You don’t know where we live.”
Henri and I exchange disbelieving glances.
I sigh as I hold out my left arm. “Benji, write your phone number on it. I’ll call you, then we can meet somewhere.”
“I’ll write my phone number on your arm,” Lola coos.
“Oh no you won’t,” Henri exclaims for some unfathomable reason.
“It makes more sense for me to give them my number,” Benji tells Lola. “They’re my clothes after all.”
“We’re agreed then,” I say holding out my left arm again.
Benji picks up the ink gun.
“No!” I exclaim. “With a pen, you idiot.”
“Right,” Benji says as he pats his pockets. “I don’t have one.”
Henri roots around in the ink box. “Here,” she says as she produces a felt marker. “Use this.”
I yank my arm back. “It might be a permanent marker.”
Lola’s suddenly a genius. “You can use rubbing alcohol, hand sanitizer, nail polish remover, or coconut oil. And if that doesn’t work, the skin regenerates itself in about a month and the dead cells shed like hair on a poodle.”
Notwithstanding the fact that poodles don’t shed, the three of us gape at her.
She shrugs. “Just saying.”
“Right.” I push my arm towards Benji who scribbles his phone number on it.
He takes off his coat and shirt and hands them to us. Just as we’re slipping them on, we hear Renfrew shout, “Lola, Benji, get the fuckin’ brats! I’m tired of this shit.”