The Merciless (The Merciless #1)(13)

Ollie’s considering Brooklyn now, like he’s trying to decide if she’ll cause more trouble out front with his customer or back with his needles. He comes to the same conclusion I do.

“Just wait for me back here,” he says. ”I’ll try to fit you in later.”

Brooklyn folds her hands over her chest, fluttering her eyelashes. “My hero.” Ollie groans and heads back out front while Brooklyn leans against a chair half hidden by a curtain off to the left. Dozens of identical black stickers cover the chair, the words SANTOS AND THE RAISONETTES printed on all of them.

“Santos’s band,” Brooklyn says, nodding at the stickers. “Isn’t that the worst band name you ever heard?”

“How do you even know these people?” I ask, sitting down in the chair. Brooklyn grabs a bar stool and pulls it up next to me.

“I used to work here,” she says. “I had a fake license, and Ollie let me apprentice with him until Charlie ratted me out and told him I was only sixteen.”

“You’ve given people tattoos?”

“Nah, I did mostly piercings. See this one?” Brooklyn pushes back her hair to show me a large safety pin running from her cartilage to her earlobe.

“Did that myself,” she says proudly. “You got anything pierced?” I shake my head. Brooklyn’s mouth drops open. “Not even ears?”

“My mom doesn’t like piercings,” I say.

“And you . . . what? Just let her make those decisions for you?”

“What are you going to get tattooed?” I ask to change the subject.

“Dunno yet,” Brooklyn says. “I was thinking of that snake thing you had on your hand a couple of days ago. That was pretty cool.”

“Quetzalcoatl?”

“Is that what it’s called?” Brooklyn asks. “You think you could draw it for Ollie?”

“Sure. If you want me to.” I’m flattered, and my fingers itch to reach for my pen. Brooklyn narrows her eyes at me.

“You know, you’d look wicked cool with an eyebrow ring.”

“You think so?” Almost unconsciously, I lift a finger to my eyebrow. Then, thinking of my mom’s reaction, I push the thought away. There was a time I would have done it just to get a reaction from her, but it’s not worth it now, not when things are going so well.

“Is it because of your little friends?” Brooklyn snickers, staring down at the tray next to her. It’s covered in needles, tiny hoop earrings, ointments, and, inexplicably, a cucumber-melon-scented candle from Bath & Body Works. “I bet they think piercings are a sin. God, I don’t know how you can stand the holier-than-thou crew.”

“I thought you all used to be friends,” I say. Brooklyn slides a needle off the metal table and holds it between two fingers.

“You’ve been talking about me?” she asks. I shift my eyes away from the needle. It’s thick—thicker than I expected it to be.

“They just said you used to hang out with them, and that you changed,” I say.

Brooklyn shrugs, turning the needle in her fingers. “Let’s just say that after years of worshipping at the altar of Riley, I decided I wanted to have some fun.” The fluorescent light buzzes overhead, casting a flickering yellow glow across the needle’s surface. “Be honest now, Sofia. Do you really want to spend high school praying? Because you look like someone who knows how to have fun.”

I think of my Goth friends showing their fake IDs to the bouncer at Club Trash, or my last boyfriend—if you could even call him that—who was more interested in his bong than in me. Last night, with Riley, Grace, and Alexis, I finally felt like I belonged.

Still, sitting here with Brooklyn fits, too. The duct-tape-covered vinyl and indie rock blasting from the iPod in the corner remind me of dozens of nights in smoky basements. I lift my eyes to meet Brooklyn’s, and a rush of adrenaline spreads through me, like warmth uncurling beneath my skin. I can’t help imagining her threading that needle through my eyebrow, the bright pain as it tears through my skin.

“Come on,” she urges, touching the needle to my eyebrow. “I dare you.”

“No.” I shake my head. “I really can’t.”

“It wouldn’t be forever,” Brooklyn says. “You can take the ring out whenever you want, and your mom wouldn’t even know you had it.”

I stare down at the rings, imagining how cool it’d be to have a secret piercing, to get away with this right under my mom’s nose. I could even hide it from Riley and the others, if I wanted. I begin to smile.

“Jesus.” Brooklyn hops on her stool, then curls a hand beneath the seat, like she’s forcing herself to stay put. “You have to.”

I laugh, and her voice echoes in my head. I dare you. I lean forward, and the soaring, whooping feeling of adrenaline rises in my chest. I don’t want it to go away.

“Fine. Do it,” I say.

Brooklyn grins, the same wolfish grin that shows all her teeth. She sets the needle back down on the tray and picks up a cotton swab and a bottle without a label.

“Eyebrow, right?” she asks, squirting clear liquid onto the swab. I nod, and she leans forward and dabs at my face. “This is just antiseptic. It’ll keep you from getting an infection.”