~Thursday March 24th~

Olivia tackles me as soon as I walk in the front doors of the high school.

"Happy birthday!" She exclaims as she squeezes me, the combination of her weight and our backpacks making my knees buckle slightly. I laugh as I try to pry her off of me.

"Thanks Liv," I say when she finally lets go.

"Happy birthday," a random senior girl - I think I had a group project with her last year - says to me as she walks by. Everyone must know it's my birthday after Olivia's excitement.

"Thank you," I say over my shoulder as she keeps walking.

"So, what are you doing today to celebrate?" Olivia asks me as she grabs my arm to pull me into forward motion towards our lockers.

"You mean after school?" Olivia nods. "Nothing. I couldn't think of anything that I would want to do. My parents will both be home so they're making me dinner. And since my mom is terrible at keeping secrets I do already know that she's gotten a cake. That's all though."

"Oh come on, that's no fun! You aren't doing anything on your eighteenth birthday?"

"You sound like my mom. She's begging me to get out of the house and find something to do, but I just can't think of anything."

"I'll help you think. What about... bowling?"

"I'm sick of bowling, I go too often. I'm also not any good."

"The movies?"

"There's nothing good out, I've already checked."

"Ice skating?"

"Not to be a downer, but I've never been a fan of skating."

"Yeah, there's nothing," Olivia gives up.

"Of course, I could always drop in and take class. At least I'd be out of the house," I say with a growing smile, knowing what Olivia's reaction will be.

"Oh come on, you are not going to dance on your eighteenth birthday."

"I'll think of something," I say. We both visit our lockers before approaching our classrooms.

"I'll see you during homeroom, birthday girl," Olivia says as she leaves me to head to her class.

"Bye," I respond before walking into my history classroom. I see him immediately, and am not surprised that he's already looking at me. What does surprise me is the small gift bag sitting on his desk, tissue paper spilling out of the top. I tilt my head to the side and drop my chin at him as I sit down. "Noah, you did not have to get me a gift."

"What? Oh, this isn't for you," Noah responds, gesturing to the bag. I am mildly embarrassed about assuming it was for me until I notice the evil glint in his sparkly eyes.

"You're so mean!" I say as he laughs.

"No, you're just too gullible."

"I'm not that gullible," I respond as he moves the bag from his desk to mine.

"Happy birthday," he says instead of arguing with me. I smile up at him and he nods his head toward the bag, telling me to open it.

"Again, you really didn't have to," I say as I pull out the tissue paper. He doesn't respond, but I can feel him watching me as I pull a small box out of the bag. I place it down on my desk and pull off the top.

On a white piece of styrofoam sits a dainty necklace chain with a pendant attached. The charm is two silver pointe shoes en pointe next to each other with a little stone in between the ankles. The stone is light blue and sparkles in the classroom lights.

"Noah," I whisper in amazement as I pick the necklace up out of the box.

"It's aquamarine, your birthstone." I think about how expensive aquamarine can be, and silently hope that this stone is small enough and a low enough quality that this didn't cost Noah a fortune. I know he can't throw money around when he's raising his little sister on his own. "Do you like it?" He asks once I'm holding the whole chain in my hand.

"Are you kidding, I love it!" I say as I look up at him. Surprisingly I watch as his shoulders deflate in relief. How could I not love such a beautiful necklace? "Thank you," I say as I pull apart the clasp on the chain, starting to put it around my neck. I struggle with the clasp at the back of my head before Noah speaks.

"Here," he says, gently taking one end of the chain out of my fingers. I turn in my seat so that my back is to him as he scoots to the edge of his chair and takes the other side of the necklace in his other hand. I pull my hair out of the way as he clasps it together, his fingertips warm and feather-like on the back of my neck. "There," Noah says as he lets go. I look down at the charm and hold it in my fingertips. Not only is it beautiful, but also the perfect size; big enough that you can tell exactly what it is, but small enough to still be dainty and elegant. I smile at Noah again and realize I've finally figured out the perfect way to describe his eye color: aquamarine. Sparkling like a precious stone.

"Are you doing anything to celebrate today?" He asks as he rests his temple on the heel of his hand, elbow propping him up on his desk.

"Just dinner with my parents. My mom wants me to do something but I can't think of anything I'd actually want to do."

"Hmm. I'll bet you we could think of something," Noah responds, his eyebrows furrowing together. I find myself wanting to press my thumb against his forehead until it smoothes out, but shake my head slightly at the thought. What has gotten into me lately with him?

Mr O'Connor stands up from his desk as the bell rings and begins his lesson, earning everyone's attention. I find that as the class progresses, my fingers barely ever stop touching my new necklace.

~~~~~

At the start of French class, my view of Olivia's face as she is turned backwards in her seat is suddenly disrupted by Noah's form as he crouches in front of my desk, dropping down until we're eye-to-eye. I raise my eyebrows at him in surprise.

"Excuse me, I was having a conversation," I say, only half joking.

"Yeah, yeah. Cameron came in with me, so I'm sure Olivia doesn't mind my intrusion." I look behind him to see that Cameron is in fact standing in front of Olivia's desk and has captured her full attention. He has both of her hands in his as they talk to each other. I look back at Noah and shrug one shoulder, resting my back into my chair.

"Fair point. What's up?" At this point I'm pretty positive that he has something up his sleeve.

"Have you ever wanted to get a tattoo?" I think for a second.

"I actually have considered it before. I think I'd like to get a small one someday." Noah smirks, and I instinctively become just a tiny bit scared.

"Well today is the day TD." It takes a second to set in.

"Oh. Oh."

"What do you think?"

"I have been thinking about getting one for a while... and I have a couple of ideas, and they're all very meaningful to me." I looked away from him while I was thinking and when I meet his gaze again I notice how excited he is. He really wants me to do this. "Oh what the heck, sure."

"Yes! This is gonna be so fun!" He responds, standing up from in front of my desk and sitting down in his own seat next to me. "There's a great parlor in the city, I'll take you. We can go right after school!"

"I better ask my mom," I say, pulling out my phone to text her.

"Oh come on Teresina, you're eighteen! You can get a tattoo without asking your mom first."

"I know, I know. I'm sure she'll say yes, but I just don't want to surprise her with it." I send a quick text to her, throwing in not-so-subtle reminders about how much I love her.

"What are you getting?" Noah asks.

"I don't know yet. It'll be small though, and probably just black. Plain and simple." Noah nods his head in approval. "Do you have any tattoos?" I ask him. He's been eighteen for a few months, and tattoos would definitely fit the bad boy facade.

"Yeah, just one. My dad's birthday with Melody's underneath it on my shoulder blade," he says, reaching his left arm across his chest to place it on the right side of his back, presumably where the tattoo is.

"That's sweet," I say, only a little surprised that he didn't say he has a huge tattoo of a dragon or skulls across his chest.

Madame Martin begins class, so my conversation with Noah is cut off. Halfway through class I finish the worksheet we are assigned, and my mind keeps drifting back to one of the tattoo ideas I have always had. I turn my paper over and try to sketch it out, though I've certainly never been any good at drawing.

Class continues as Madame Martin begins a new lesson and I set the worksheet off to the side of my desk to be considered later. As the end of the school day finally arrives, Madame finishes her lecture a few minutes early and lets us talk amongst ourselves, reminding us not to leave the room until the bell rings. I pull my phone out of the back pocket of my jeans. I felt the vibration of a text message during class but didn't want to risk getting it taken away. I read my mom's response.

"That's fine with me, as long as it's not too big and is well thought out. I trust that you'll have good taste. And make sure that it's hidden well, or else you'll have to cover it up every time you go on stage."

"Thank you!!!" I send back, grateful for her advice. I hadn't even thought about the fact that it would have to be somewhere that is hidden by most costumes. I look up to tell Noah that she said yes and see that he has his phone out too and is looking through something on it.

"Noah?" I say and he immediately looks at me, placing his phone down on his desk. "My mom said yes."

"Nice. We can go right after school, if you want?" I nod my head. I've got nothing better to do, after all. "What's this?" He says, grabbing the sketch from the corner of my desk.

"It's just an idea. I'm terrible at drawing, so hopefully it wouldn't actually look like that," I say laughing nervously. Even though I like the tattoo, I don't think I would get it if other people didn't like it too. Noah's opinion on the idea is important.

"I see what it's supposed to be. I like it. E. W., is that-"

"Yeah, Emma. Emma Wagner." The drawing is a pose from Giselle - of course I pulled from my favorite ballet for ideas. The dancer is standing on one bent knee with the other extended behind her on the floor. Her arms are crossed but soft around her stomach, which in the ballet is meant to symbolise cradling a broken heart. The dancer's head is hung as she grieves. Emma's initials are in a lowercase cursive font by the dancer's feet.

"I think it's perfect." Noah says, immediately filling me with a feeling of pride at the approval.

"Really?"

"Yeah, it's really you. Of course because it's ballet, but it's also really thoughtful and meaningful. It's perfect."

"Thanks," I say as he hands the drawing back to me. I leave the paper out on my desk but pack everything else into my bag. Seconds later the bell rings and Noah and I stand. We walk together out of the school and into the senior parking lot. I drop my backpack off in my car before we head over to his. The whole time I try to think about where to get the tattoo. The two best options I come up with are my lower back or my hip. Both places should always be covered up by any costume I wear.

While we are driving to the parlor, I remember another part of the getting a tattoo experience.

"How much do tattoos hurt?" I say during a lull in conversation.

"I'm sure you'll be fine, you must have a pretty high pain tolerance from pointe." Noah responds. I think back to when I broke my toe.

"Yeah, that's true," I agree.

"It also depends on where you get it. Do you know yet?"

"Would my lower back hurt a lot?" Noah thinks for a moment.

"Yeah, it probably would."

"What about my hip?"

"Hmm, sexy," Noah says, giving me a side-eye as he drives.

"Excuse me?" I say, mildly flustered. Noah laughs loudly, obviously content with the results of his taunting.

"That would probably hurt less," he finally says, not taking back his previous statement at all.

"Alright. I'll get it on my right hip," I decide, happy that I have a plan.

When we walk into the parlor, I am intimidated by the extreme decor. Noah reminds me that the artists here are all professional and amazing at what they do, this is where he got his tattoo as well. First I have to fill out paperwork and show my ID, proving that as of today I am indeed eighteen. Then I show the tattoo artist my sketch, and describe in words what I want it to look like since it's certainly not perfect. He sits down at a desk and sketches it out for himself, and when I see the image I know that it really is perfect. It's the tattoo I'm meant to have.

I'm shown to a table to sit down on, and Noah comes over with me. "Scared?" He asks me.

"Yes," I say, not bothering to try to lie.

"Don't be, it'll be fine." I have to unbutton my jeans to fold them and my underwear down in order to expose my hip. Doing this in front of the artist is fine, but it's Noah watching me that makes my blush uncontrollably. I am extremely grateful that I wore plain black underwear today, and not some old pair with a childish design on them.

After placing a stencil of the small design where I describe that I want it, the artist gets ready to begin. He turns on the machine, and as he approaches me with the pen a burst of anxiety rushes through me. Noah's hand rests next to me on the table, but I grab it in my own and squeeze my eyes shut in anticipation of the feeling of needles piercing my skin. I can feel as the pen touches my skin, but it isn't as bad as I had feared. There is a light prickly stinging sensation on my hip, but I am able to open my eyes and relax. I look up at Noah since I'm still holding on to his hand and loosen my grip slightly.

"You good?" He asks me, a little worried looking.

"Yeah, it's not that bad," I respond.

"I told you you'd be fine," he says with a reassuring smile. Even still, he tightens his grip on my hand slightly, indicating that he will not be letting me let go of his hand anytime soon. Not that I was planning on it.

~~~~~

Written 12/27/19, Published 12/30/18

Last update of 2018!!! I hope you guys had a great year! Sorry I didn't update last week, I've been sick for the last two weeks and I usually write late at night, and trying to write while on drowsy cough medicine hasn't been effective. But I'm feeling better now so it's all good! I hope you had a merry Christmas if that is what you celebrate and if not I hope you had happy holidays!
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Thank you for reading :)