Tattoo: The Awakening: Sisterhood of the Tattoo, #1

By Toni Leland

Danielle Clark never dreamed she’d spend her senior year in a hick school full of farmers. Still reeling from the shock of her parents’ separation and the move to a new school, Danielle discovers that being neither black nor white in a small rural town makes her a prime target for bullies. When she meets Meli, a fearless Native American girl, Danielle becomes mesmerized by her new friend’s WTF outlook on life, and makes an impulsive decision to get a tattoo. Through a series of frightening events, belief in the spiritual power of her tattoo instills Danielle with new insight into human nature, the courage to face the future, and the revelation that she’s the only one in charge of her happiness.

• Language: English
• Publisher: New Concord Press
• Release date: Jul 19, 2014
• ISBN: 9781501494956

Toni Leland

Toni Leland has been writing for over 25 years. She writes both fiction and non-fiction, and freelance for several magazines, a gardening website, and one newspaper. She is a professional editor and photographer. In her spare time, loves gardening, cooking (and eating!), reading, travel, horses, and cats. Throughout her life, her greatest love has been horses. From riding them as a young girl, to breeding and raising Arabians and Morgans as an adult, to writing about them as a passion - these wonderful creatures filled her life and her stories. Toni has written other genres as the mood strikes her, but usually returns to her equine writing roots.

Book preview

Chapter 1

I hate you!

The words tore through my throat and echoed around my room as I slammed the door. I turned away, cringing at the image of my mother's face frozen in disbelief. I'd never said such a thing to her in my whole life.

But I'd never had my home ripped apart, either.

Home. My real home was back in Baltimore.

My cell hummed and my best friend's number appeared on the screen.

Katelyn's lisp curled through the phone. Danielle! Did you get my text? Why didn't you answer?

I've been fighting with my mom again. What's up?

Old Man Finster gave us mega homework. Why can't they at least let us get used to being back? I hate geometry.

You should've taken it last year.

Yeah, but I kept hoping Finster would retire. Or drop dead!

My chest tightened painfully. I'd give anything to be sitting in Finster's class.

As usual, Katelyn's thoughts jumped to something else. She never concentrated on one idea for very long.

So what's the new school really like? Have you met any cute guys?

I rolled my eyes. The school sucks and, no, I haven't met any cute guys and I don't intend to. This place is full of hicks and farmers.

Aw, Dani, I wish you were here.

Her voice trailed off and I tried not to cry.

Kate, I have to go. I'll call you this weekend.

I set the phone aside. We'd lived here six weeks and I already knew my senior year would be the worst year of my life. My eyelids burned and my throat ached. Why couldn't Mom just let me stay with Dad to finish school? How hard would that be? I shook my head. She always had to have things her way. She doesn't care anything about what I want.

I looked around the tiny space that now made up my world. Four walls, a bed, a dresser, a study desk, and a window. The window is actually the best part. It looks out over a swampy meadow and, in the early evening, I can watch the big herons waiting patiently for fish to swim too close. I've seen raccoons waddling along the edge of the marsh, and deer nibbling the lower branches of the trees. After dark, I listen to the mournful call of an owl, a sound that sends immeasurable sadness through my heart. Still, the view from my window is the only part of my life that is bearable these days.

Outside the window, a blue jay landed on a nearby branch, flicking his tail and cocking his head. Defeat rolled through me and I stood up. I'd better go find Mom and apologize.

She was in the kitchen, holding her cell phone with one hand and stirring a pot on the stove with the other. I watched her for a minute. I'd never stopped being amazed by my mother's beauty–her dark red hair, pale pink skin, and violet-blue eyes. Then there's plain old me. Even my baby brother is better looking than I am.

I wandered over to the fridge and opened the door. Gazing at the contents, but not seeing, I listened to my mother's usually soft voice grow sharp.

Curtis, I thought we agreed on this. I don't–okay, fine, we'll talk about it later.

My heart thumped once. She was talking to my dad.

She pocketed the phone and adjusted the heat under the pan. Danielle, set the table and call Brucie for supper.

Her hard tone irritated me. Here I was, ready to apologize, and she was being all brisk and snippy. Well, the hell with her. I cringed at the mental outburst. Living in Nebraska was having a bad effect on me. I arranged three placemats, set out three plates, and filled three glasses with milk, painfully aware of the uneven number. As I gathered knives, forks, and spoons, the silverware drawer got away from me and slammed shut.

Danielle Kimani Clark, that's enough of your attitude! If you can't act civilized, you can go to your room.

It slipped! God, Mom, why are you being such a–so mean?

I turned and fled down the hall. I couldn't stand it. I wasn't going to spend another minute in this horrible place. I ran up the stairs and closed the bedroom door, being careful not to slam it. No point in making her madder. When she called me by my full name, she was seriously annoyed.

I sat on the windowsill and gazed out at the evening mist settling over the marsh. This whole thing was her fault. I was sure of it. A year ago, something happened between my parents. I had no idea what it was, but the atmosphere at our house changed. Changed horribly. Now I live in a stupid little house in a stupid little town with a stupid little high school full of stupid kids. It wasn't fair. Whatever problems Mom and Dad were having, it shouldn't have destroyed my life.

Chapter 2

Something bumped outside my door, then the knob turned slowly and the door opened a few inches. My little brother's cherubic face peeked in, his big brown eyes serious.

Mommy says time for dinner.

My self-pity evaporated. C'mere, Squirt.

Crowing with glee, he launched his sturdy five-year-old body across the room and onto my lap. I hugged him hard, burying my nose in his curly black hair. If this whole mess upset me so much, what must it be doing to him? I'd heard his sobs at night. I know how much he misses Daddy.

He wiggled free and held out a chubby hand. Come on, Sissy.

I allowed him to pull me toward the door. What's for dinner?

Dimples appeared in his round cheeks. Mackawoni cheese.

I laughed out loud. He still had a babyish way of talking, and I loved it.

As we walked toward the kitchen, I thought about how angry I'd been when Brucie was born. I'd been the baby for so long and, at first, I'd really hated the way everyone made such a big deal over him. But in a few weeks, I fell in love with the little brown bundle who was already beginning to look exactly like our father.

Brucie and I are the product of a mixed marriage. My father is black. My mother is from Ireland. My brother and I inherited different physical characteristics from each parent, but Brucie definitely got the better end of the deal.

Mom set a bowl on the table and smiled. Brucie's favorite. Mackawoni.

We both chuckled and Brucie climbed into his booster seat, unaware of the reason for our merriment. I was glad for the break in the tension. Maybe I could apologize and start over.

Mom's phone rang and she glanced at it, then frowned and put it back in her pocket.

She passed me the salad. Do you have any plans for this weekend?

I tried to control my sarcasm, without success. Yeah, right. Plans with all my new friends.

Pity shadowed her face. Honey, you'll make friends, but you need to try a little harder.

Mom, you have no idea! This is nothing like back home. There are these little cliques of girls who are absolute airheads, and the guys are worse. They all wear cowboy boots and denim jackets, and spend all their time pushing and shoving each other.

I clamped my mouth shut and looked down at my plate. I didn't want to tell her about my biggest problem.

I changed the subject. I'm really sorry about what I said.

Her voice softened, emphasizing her Irish accent. I know. This has been hard for all of us.

Can you–

Brucie dropped his fork on the floor. Uh-oh.

Mom leaned down to pick it up, and as Brucie leaned over to watch her, his elbow bumped his glass. I lunged forward to catch it, but wasn't fast enough. Milk flew everywhere and Mom jumped up from her chair.

Brucie, be careful!

His face morphed into a pout and he scowled at me. I stared down at my mother crawling around on the floor, mopping up the mess. So much for having a meaningful conversation.

A few minutes later, she sat down and sighed. "Now, what were you saying?

Will you reconsider about the car?

Exasperation colored her tone. Dani, I told you I can't afford it right now. This new job with the school district doesn't pay much. You'll have to wait. Please try to understand.

But Dad said–

The look on her face warned me to leave it alone. I finished my mackawoni in silence.

After dinner, I cleared the table and loaded the dishwasher, thinking about my description of the kids at school. Maybe a little over-dramatic, but not too far from the truth. City teenagers were different from those in small towns. So far, I hadn't met anyone here who appeared genuinely interested in their studies or going on to college. Their life ambitions seemed pretty limited. Hairdressers and farmers. Big wow.

**

Mom and Brucie were in the living room, reading a story.

Going up to study, I said.

Brucie scowled. Go 'way, Sissie. We readin'.

Mom patted his arm. Just a minute, honey.

I glared at my brother. He could be such a brat, but Mom didn't seem to notice.

Dani, before I forget, I have a meeting Saturday morning and I need you to babysit.

I think I can work it into my schedule.

She gazed at me for a moment, then turned back to Brucie's storybook. A shiver ran over my shoulders as I realized how sarcastic I sounded, and for no good reason other than I just needed this day to be over.

A chilly breeze came through the window and I closed it, still thinking about my experience so far at Redmond High. What I hadn't been able to tell Mom was that I don't fit in anywhere at school. I'm not dark-skinned enough to be black, and not light enough to be white. My skin is more the color of coffee with a touch of cream. Yeah, a mocha latte. Maybe I could just pretend I have a great tan. I sighed. Back home in Baltimore, nobody paid any attention to skin color. I mentally ticked off the various nationalities that made up the population there. Actually, white skin was the minority at my old school.

I turned away from the window and faced the long mirror on the back of the door. My natural curly hair came from both parents, but the color is dreadful. Icky reddish brown. In summer, it was worse when the sun bleached parts of it, making me look like a mangy calico cat. My features are a nondescript blending of each parent. My father has wonderful round facial features and my mother's bone structure is positively elegant, but I'm just plain. My fortune would never be my face. It would have to be my brains. At least I have good ones.

I sat down at the desk and opened my trig book. If nothing else, I would keep up my stellar grades and beat it back to Baltimore the day after graduation.

**

The next morning, my irritation about the car situation returned as the school bus lurched to a stop at the corner. I'm almost eighteen. I should be driving to school, not riding the bus with the losers. As usual, the driver nodded, but didn't say anything. His silence made me uncomfortable. What was going through his head? Probably the same things the kids at school were thinking. I feel like a visitor from outer space.

My house is near the beginning of the route, so only one other student was on the bus, a guy with carrot-red hair and pale blue eyes. He always sat in the back and stared out the window, which suited me just fine. He gave me the creeps.

I plopped into my usual window seat in the fifth row on the right side of the bus and watched my house disappear as the bus turned the corner. We live in a rural area where the houses are far apart with lots of open land in between. At first, I didn't like being so isolated, but I figured it wasn't a big deal because I'd be getting my car. I hunkered down in the seat and scowled. I guess the car was only a reality when we were living back home. Dad had promised, and now Mom was ruining everything.

The bus stopped to pick up two more students, and I peered through the window at a rambling, red ranch-style house set back off the road. A tall girl came out the front door. Her straight black hair hung almost to her waist, and she looked about my age. She glanced our way, then walked across the yard and climbed into an old Jeep. I tried to remember if I'd seen her at school. Surely I'd remember that hair. I hadn't paid much attention to the kids at school, but I'd make a point of watching for her today. Our houses were less than half a mile apart. Maybe I could make at least one friend in this awful place.

**

Forty minutes later, I got off the bus in front of Redmond Regional High School and stared at the depressing old red brick building. The kids come from several small farming towns in the area, but the whole school has only five hundred students, really dinky compared to my school back home where just the senior class... My eyes burned. I have to stop comparing stuff. It just makes me feel bad.

I started up the sidewalk toward the entrance. A little group of girls dressed in tight jeans, miniskirts, low-cut tops, and high heels stood by the front steps. Cheerleaders and prom queens, lip-glossed and eye-lined to the point of caricature. As I walked past, they stopped talking and threw mocking glances my way. As I climbed the steps, they started snickering. Not so bad, I guess, since they often say nasty things and collapse into fits of laughter.

But it wasn't over yet. Inside the building, I had to walk the full length of the hall to get to my locker. Of course, it's as far away as possible from my first class. Being at the end of the hall, it's also only a few feet from the group of guys who've chosen this spot because it's out of sight of the hall duty teacher. Each morning, I listen to these loud jerks making jokes and scuffling, and I can't believe I'm trapped in such a place. Where are the popular kids? The brainy kids? The jocks? They must have a wing of their own, 'cause I've sure never seen them. Maybe there just aren't any.

I collected what I'd need for morning classes, closed the locker door, and turned to head back down the hall. I collided with someone and all my books flew out of my arms, scattering in every direction.

Why don'tcha watch where yer goin'?

I gaped at a face too good looking to be true and swallowed a nasty retort. Dark eyes glowered at me, then the guy swaggered off. I shook my head and scrambled to pick up my books, trying to ignore my thumping