The Eighth Day by Dianne K. Salerni Read Free Book Online

giving one to you,” said A.J.
    When A.J. wasn’t driving equipment for a strip-mining company, he worked part time at a tattoo parlor. But that didn’t mean Jax wanted the big doofus sticking needles into his arm. Just because they shared this weird Grunsday thing didn’t mean he liked A.J.—or Riley. “It can’t be legal to give me a tattoo,” Jax said.
    â€œIt is with the permission of your guardian,” said Riley. “Trust me, Jax. This is traditional. Your first Grunsday. Your first tattoo.”
    Jax hesitated. The idea of a tattoo was cool, although not the needle part. Jax hated needles. And what would Naomi say, when Jax finally went to live with her? “I’ll pass,” he decided and started walking out with his slices of pizza.
    Riley stepped into his path and gripped his arm. “Sit down, Jax. You’re getting a tattoo.”
    Jax shivered and sat down.
    He looked at A.J.’s equipment.
    He was getting a tattoo.
    â€œI’ll have a snake,” he volunteered.
    Riley let go.
    A.J. burst out laughing. “You can’t have a snake!”
    â€œRiley has a snake. And a tiger, and a bunch of other things.”
    Riley held up both arms for Jax to see. “These are camouflage. The only reason I have these is so people don’t bother to look at this one.” He extended his left hand, and for the first time Jax noticed a family crest in blue, gold, and red ink on the inside of his wrist. It was so well surrounded by other, more interesting tattoos that it practically faded into the background.
    For a moment, Jax felt dizzy. “My dad had a tattoo just like that. Except—”
    â€œYeah, I know. He had your family crest, and thisone’s mine. You have to have it, Jax. We all have it.” Riley looked at A.J., who rolled up his shirt sleeve and turned his arm over. He, too, had a crest inked on his wrist. Jax had never noticed that one either, not that he looked at A.J.’s arms that much—or any other part of A.J.
    â€œAll Transitioners are marked this way,” Riley continued, “and you’re never going to reach your potential without it.”
    A.J. leafed through his stencil paper. “Do you have the Aubrey crest for me to copy?”
    â€œJax has it. Go get your father’s dagger, Jax.”
    Jax was out of his seat, up the stairs, and into his room before he realized it. Only when he was halfway down the stairs with his father’s dagger did he pause. He didn’t want to put this in A.J.’s hands, and he wasn’t sure he wanted a tattoo.
    Instead, he wanted to know what Riley meant by “potential.” He wanted to question how there could be an extra day and scientists not know about it. He wanted to know more about the girl he’d seen in the window of Mrs. Unger’s house.
    Jax looked at the dagger.
    He wanted to know if his father was expecting to die when he signed Jax’s custody over to Riley.
    â€œJax,” hollered Riley. “Bring the dagger.”
    Jax ran down the remaining steps, into the kitchen, and handed over the dagger.
    Billy would’ve thought this was the coolest thing ever—hanging out with Riley and getting tattooed. Jax watched A.J. copy the design, then extended his arm for the stencil as if it were someone else’s arm. When the tattoo gun came out, he squirmed in his seat, but Riley stood behind him and placed both hands on his shoulders. The machine whirred when A.J. pressed his foot to the pedal, and the needles bit into Jax’s arm.
    They stung, like little hornets. Jax watched the ink sink into his skin and blinked rapidly. A.J. wiped away tiny droplets of blood. “I feel sick,” Jax whispered.
    â€œTurn your head,” A.J. said.
    He did, but the room grew dim.
    He heard Riley’s voice: “Whoops. There he goes.”
    And A.J.’s: “Makes my job easier.”
    Then somebody turned out the