"What's this special thing you have to tell me?" I asked."Oh yeah, cool. You remember Fuckin' Bob?" Your boyfriend." Yeah, my boyfriend, whatever. I was at Platters Sunday and I ran intohim."Platters was this used CD and vinyl store downtown, the one we usuallyavoided because of the cheesy name and also because the owner was a totaldick. I went in there with Emily one time and he was lecturing these tworeally thin guys with heavy black-framed glasses about Thurston Moore andSonic Youth being sell-outs and when Emily couldn't find the CD she waslooking for?she was going through this Possum Dixon phase?she was tooembarrassed to ask them. So she told me to play up the little girl angleand ask?her theory being the guy wouldn't dare be pissy to a child-- andbeing stupid, I did... only to get shot down with this whithering stareand an icy, "We don't have that," which made me shrink to about twoinches tall and Emily had to carry me home in her pocket.Metaphorically, obviously. But I. It swung from a gold chain between my breasts, the faceted faces catching the morning light. I should sell it.But Sven gave it to me. I smiled.After tracing the vines around my left breast, I moved to the other tattoos on my body, the ones I gained as I mastered the arts. I had to excel at three to leave behind my acolyteship and enter the priesthood as a full Radiant. The vines entwining my right arm represented my skill at painting. I closed my eyes, missing the feel of a brush in hand, a piece of canvas before me. Katriana’s smiling face appeared in my mind, my mother and father holding her. The urge to paint her had built and built over the last year.But fugitives did not have the time to spend in one place working on an oil painting. The best I could do was sketch her in charcoal.And my sketchpad lay in the tent.Zanyia moaned louder, Ava’s smaller gasps echoing.The vines that grew up my left leg and spilled over my hip represented my mastery of dance, of moving my body to music,.
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