30. Silver
30
SILVER
U ncle Dagger and Aunt Emerald take the front two seats of the camper. The rest of us crowd into the bench in the cabin.
“Do we need to drive the camper for this?” Quin asks. He’s squashed into the corner.
“We have too many people for a car now,” Uncle Dagger says.
“Maybe it’s time for one of us to get a van or something,” Aunt Crystal mutters under her breath.
The camper has not been renovated since its glory days in the seventies, when avocado carpet and matching seat coverings were in style. Despite the smell of mothballs and mildew, Uncle Dagger’s managed to keep it pretty clean, but the shocks are not what they used to be. We bounce around with every divot in the road.
“What exactly are we doing?” I ask. “It’s good to see you and everything. Really, it is. But I just got Lucas back, and if he could come with us?—”
“It’s tradition for raccoon shifters to shop for their collection with their family,” Quin explains. “It’s a rite of passage.”
“It is? But no one ever said?—”
“We don’t tell the kids because they’re not invited,” Mom says. “It’s just those of us who already have collections of our own.”
Uncle Dagger does a sharp turn, and we all lean into Quin.
“This can’t be safe,” he squeaks.
“Where are we going?” Aunt Emerald asks.
“That baby store by the riverwalk,” Uncle Dagger says.
“That’s a human baby store. They won’t have shifter stuff. We should just go to a department store,” Aunt Emerald suggests.
“I think we should go to the piercer,” Quin says.
“What does Silver want?” Mom asks.
Everyone turns to me. Even Uncle Dagger, which means we narrowly miss running a red light.
Aunt Emerald grabs for the door handle. “Jesus, Dagger. I’m driving next time.”
“Well, where are we going?” he asks.
The truth is, I don’t want to shop for baby things without Lucas. I guess I did this afternoon, but that was on a whim. I want to do the rest of the shopping with him at my side. I think he would enjoy it, the way he enjoyed our trip to Target. But I can tell this shopping trip means something to my aunts and uncle. It means something to Quin, too.
“The piercer,” I say.
Getting my bling is a rite of passage I don’t want to miss.
“Aren’t there rules about facial piercings in the military?” Uncle Dagger asks.
“He doesn’t have to get facial piercings. He could get nipple piercings or a belly button ring,” Aunt Crystal says. “Maybe a Prince Albert.”
“Trust me, those are more trouble than they’re worth,” Uncle Dagger cautions.
That borders on more information than I needed to know about my uncle.
“Actually, I checked the regulations, and there are exceptions for some shifter types,” Quin tells us, matter-of-factly. “Raccoon shifters are allowed three facial piercings. You just can’t get a tongue ring or any piercing you can’t remove yourself, like a dermal piercing. Nose rings, earrings, and lip rings are all okay.”
I may have checked the regulations before I enlisted. I’ve wanted to get piercings for a long time.
“Let’s go to Ringtail,” Aunt Emerald says. “They’re still open.”
Mom slides her arm around me. “I got my piercings done at ringtail, back in the day.”
“All of them?” I ask.
She nods. “I got twenty-four piercings in one day.”
I know she has twelve in each ear. I don’t know where the other piercings are, and I don’t ask.
“I got my piercings done at Ringtail, too,” Aunt Emerald says. “They do a good job.”
It’s a rickety ride to the edge of town. Uncle Dagger gets on and off the freeway because he thinks the camper can handle it, and it becomes clear very quickly that it can’t speed up enough to keep up with the other cars. He mutters something about Coin needing to take a look at it as he pulls off at the next exit. Ten minutes in, the engine gets much louder, but we keep on going.
“I really don’t think it’s safe,” Quin repeats.
Uncle Dagger finally pulls into the parking lot of a shop called Finders Keepers with wind chimes hanging in the windows and patio furniture scattered outside. On the other side of the building is a small black and white striped door with a thin sign that says “Ringtail Piercing Studio” along the top. There are no windows, and the sign is barely readable from the street.
“An older couple owns both shops,” Mom explains, as we file out of the camper and to the door.
Quin opens it and pulls me inside.
It’s a simple set-up. There’s only one glass display of jewelry and one reclining chair in the back that looks like it was pulled out of a dentist’s office. No employee is working in the studio at the moment, but there is a sign next to a bell that says, “Ring me if you ever want to get pierced.”
Quin dings the bell. “What were you thinking?”
“Three in the right ear,” I say, pointing to my lobe and two spaces right next to it.
“Just your ear?” he asks.
I nod. “A lot of raccoon shifters have their ears pierced all the way up. I was thinking I could have three real piercings for work. Then on the weekends, I could add ten or more magnetic earrings on that same ear, just until I leave the Air Force and I can get them pierced for real. I want it to be obvious that I’m a raccoon shifter.”
“They have other jewelry in the store next door,” Mom says. “If you want rings, bracelets, necklaces, that sort of thing.”
“I do. I want to wear as much jewelry as you,” I tell her.
She smiles. “Okay. I think that will suit you, sweetie.”
An older woman with short, gray, spiky hair and a row of piercings on each ear emerges from the back door. She has multiple eyebrow piercings and a large, thick septum piercing hanging from her nose.
“Sunshine!” Mom says. “It’s so good to see you.”
This woman is named Sunshine? Really?
“Good to see you too, Rube. Who’s this?” she asks, pointing to me.
“This is my son, Silver. Silver, this is Sunshine, an old friend.”
I hold out my hand to her.
“No offense, but I just washed my hands. What’ll it be, kid?”
I point to the lobe of my right ear. “Three piercings in a row, right here.”
“Sure thing. Rube, will you show him my website, and get him to sign the permission form? I’m gonna grab some gloves.”
The shop is small enough that my family completely fills it. Quin helps me sign the permission form and pick out a few studs. He sits right by my side as Sunshine sticks a needle in my ear three separate times. Uncle Dagger covers his eyes, and Aunt Emerald teases him about it. Mom tells me it’s normal if my eyes tear up a little bit.
I think the three little holes in my right ear mean more because they’re here. I’ll always remember Quin holding my hand, and the way Aunt Crystal smiled when it was all over.
“Very handsome,” Mom says.
Uncle Dagger turns a little green. “Except for that little bit of blood.”
I’ll always remember the way he passed out, too, and how we had to carry him to the camper where we laid him out on the bed in the back before Aunt Emerald drove us home.