III. Rowan Berries and Nail Varnish
Table of Contents
Illustration
Two siblings have a minor squabble. One uses "gay" as a pejorative repeatedly.
Red-orange berries on the tree next door brought dozens of small brown birds, gossiping among the small leaves and pecking fallen berries from the grass below the branches that overhung the fence. The light rain bothered them not at all, and clouds turned the sky a uniform white. Daiki turned the volume up on the CD player that his headphones plugged into, then examined his nails: short, a bit ragged where he’d torn or bitten them, with small scratches and burns on his fingers and hands. He had short, black hair growing a bit on the shaggy side, and his rectangular frame glasses threatened to slide down his nose. He sang under his breath and filed his nails, blowing nail dust into the air over the wooden floor. Daiki’s little sister peeked into his room at him through the crack between the white-painted wooden door and its frame. Stucco walls held posters, photos, and autumn leaves pressed in wax paper tacked to the drywall.
“Shit, you’re here. You’re so quiet I thought you were out again,” Winter remarked. She pushed his door open to the squeaky protest of old hinges, and peeked at what occupied her brother.
“Nope,” mumbled Daiki. He held the small glass vial carefully and unscrewed the cap.
“What’s that V? Did you draw on yourself?” she asked, leaning to peer closer at his arms. “What does it stand for?”
“It’s a tattoo.”
“No fucking way. You have to be eighteen! Right?” Winter’s eyes lit with awe. “Who’s tattooing kids? Can I get a tat? I want a scorpion.”
“I got it yesterday. Stick and poke.” Daiki slowly painted his nails. He bit the inside of his cheek to focus.
“V. Virgin. Vulture. Vegas. Vvv….vv… hm.”
“Vipers. Just a local thing.”
“Yeah, I heard of them. Where did you go yesterday?” Winter rooted through her brother’s closet and picked out a shirt she liked. “I bet it hurt.”
“Not as much as I expected. Maybe other spots hurt more than the back of my wrist but it feels like a sunburn, sorta.” He looked up. “Hey! I like that shirt!”
“Me too.” Winter pulled it on over her head over the striped tank top she’d already been wearing. Long, straight black hair fell past her shoulders, held back behind her ears with a headband. The black t-shirt had an antlered skull on the front with frogs and mushrooms around it. She lifted her hair out from under the collar with the backs of her hands. “Vipers are gay. Now you’re stuck with that forever unless you get it covered up. Don’t let Trish see it. She’s got a stick up her ass about even stupid little shit so you bet she’ll blow her lid if she figures out you got a tattoo...Paint my nails next!”
“Why do you curse so much? You’re still basically little,” complained Daiki.
“I’m almost ten!”
“Yeah, not even ten. You’re tiny.”
“Shut up! You’re barely a teenager,” Winter retorted and punched her brother’s shoulder.
“Hey! I’ll spill varnish!”
Winter backed off. “Sorry.”
“I went to an abandoned house with Sid. A bunch of kids were skating, but you know how I like panic or something on wheels. So I was just standing around. It was boring. But the tattoo was cool. I kinda want more but I don’t, I just, I feel weird about asking, I guess?”
“You went to a skate park without me?!” Winter jumped onto his bed and shoved him. “Screw your gay stupid club for babies! I don’t care if you wimp out on skates. Take me! I wasn’t doing anything. I can’t believe you!”
Daiki hurriedly screwed the cap back onto the nail polish. “Fuck! I’m going to mess up my nails! Paint your own fucking nails, Winnie. Ugh. I don’t know how to get there. Sid drove.”
“Sid’s a gay stupid baby, too.”
“It was just an empty pool anyway.”
“I don’t care; I wanna go.”
Daiki sighed. “Fine. I’ll ask Sid. And I’m gay anyway so stop saying that.”
“No you’re not; you like that one girl from your school with, like, the frizzy hair and the twin and the boobs.”
He blushed. “Yeah, well, shut up.” He cautiously resumed painting his nails.
“So if you get a crush on one twin do you like both of them or is it like -”
“No.”
“Do you think I’ll get boobs like that? Does it hurt when they grow? Do I get to punch everybody who looks at them or -”
“I don’t know! I don’t have tits. Ask Miyako.”
Winter bounced shallowly on the bed and watched her brother paint. “Where should I get my scorpion? On my arm or on my back or, like, I dunno, my ankle?”
“I dunno if the woman who gave me the tattoo is going to be there.”
“Am I going to get a mustache like Miyako?”
Daiki sighed. “I don’t. Know. ...Alright, give me your hand.” He held his fingers extended and kept the nail polish brush pinched between his index and thumb with care.
“I don’t like Sid. He creeps me out.”
“Yeah.”
IV. Shoplifting and other talents.