Senior Year Box Set

They had a sign posted saying that only those 18 or older could get the permanent kind. They had our bulldog logo with the dog chewing on a baseball ready to go. We decided to get them on our necks.

Paula assured us that the henna would fade in a week or so.

To apply them, she first used alcohol to clean our skin. Henna was water-based, which meant it would be repelled by our skin’s natural oils. The tattoos were already on cards with a plastic cover to protect them. She peeled the cover off and set the card against our skin. She next applied a damp cloth, held it in place for 90 seconds, and then peeled off the paper backing.

Paula instructed us not to touch them for ten minutes or so. We had to let them fully dry.

“What are you getting?” I asked Lexi.

“She should get the red lips,” Tim said.

“Where would I put it?” Lexi asked.

Both Tim and Wolf looked like they had some ideas that were best not voiced.

“Why don’t you surprise David?” Cassidy asked as she joined us in the tent.

She made us show her our tattoos, and she nodded her approval of our school spirit.

“If I get one, can you pay for it?” Cassidy asked me.

Some of the activities cost money, including this one. I wasn’t surprised Cassidy didn’t have any cash on her. More likely, she did, but knew I would buy it for her if she asked.

“Only if I get to see it,” I said with a cheeky grin.

“I got this,” Tim said and handed Cassidy money.

“What about me?” Lexi asked.

“Same deal,” Wolf said as he paid for hers.

I wasn’t sure if my guys were ready for those two or not, but I wisely stayed out of it. Instead, I left to explore what else was going on.

◊◊◊

I went to play cornhole with some of the other senior baseball players. When they saw my tattoo, they all decided to get one, too. I surprisingly sucked at cornhole. Something about the underhand toss of the beanbag didn’t work for me. I also sucked at bowling, so go figure.

“Throw it overhand,” Ty suggested.

It took me a couple of tosses before I figured out to bunch the beanbag into a tight ball. If I threw it without doing that, it would catch too much air, and I couldn’t predict where it would go. I won three straight games with my new technique, and after that, no one wanted to play me.

◊◊◊

I got Lexi alone for a moment because I had a question.

“How did you pay for all this? This had to cost way more than the ten bucks a head we charged.”

“Your mom helped. She called the Booster Club and told them what you all were doing today. They donated buses, tents, tables, and chairs. They also got people to pay for booths, like the tattoo folks did. I got the high school bands to play for free. That left the food and drink. That, we had to pay for,” she explained.

“Give me a list of who all I need to thank.”

“I already sent them thank-you cards, but if you want to say something in person, I’ll send you a list.”

That was something my dad had taught me. Little gestures like that made a big difference. Over the last four years, I’d built up enough goodwill to have a day like this come together. Down the road, people would remember if I thanked them or not.

I was about to inquire about where on her body she’d gotten her tattoo when the Wesleyan contingent showed up.

“Go say hi,” Lexi suggested.

◊◊◊

The first people who saw me were Sarah Spence and Megan Atkins. I hadn’t seen Megan since the Wesleyan Christmas dance our freshman year. They both gave me a scowl, to which I shot them a smile of amusement.

“Stop looking that way at me,” Sarah snapped at me irritably. “I’m having enough trouble concentrating on being mad at you as it is.”

The wind caught the girls’ long hair, causing it to tumble over their shoulders. Daddy likey!

“Hrumph.” Tami made a sound like clearing her throat to distract me.

“Oh, hey,” I said and turned back to check out Sarah and Megan again.

Tami smacked my forehead.

“Ow!” I complained. “I thought you only did that to Alan.”

“No, I do it to all ‘stupid boys’ who’re acting up.”

“I didn’t do anything …” I added ‘yet’ under my breath, which she caught and smacked me again.

Damion, Wesleyan’s All-State wide receiver, walked up with an amused expression.

“You trying to poach our women?”

“I have a few I’d be willing to trade you.”

Whack

“Ow!”

“I thought she only hit that Alan kid,” Damion said.

“I thought that, too. She’s decided it’s fair game to hit boys,” I explained.

“‘Stupid boys,’” Tami amended.

“I heard there’s a beer tent,” Damion suggested.

“Right this way,” I said as I took the Wesleyan group to where they could get their alcohol.

I looked around, and everyone seemed to be having a good time. The high school band members were switching off playing. The group on stage now was playing top-40 songs from a decade ago.

I also checked to see if any baseball players were in the tent. Happily, none of them were.

Out of the corner of my eye, I spotted Destiny sauntering up with two beers.

“I wondered when we would get you in here,” she said as she handed me a beer.