Old Ink (Get Ink'd #3) - Ali Lyda Page 0,17
drawn the items as if he were inside a fishbowl and looking out. The amount of creativity fused with realism was stunning.
He looked up and gave me a lazy smile. It was a far cry from the first snarling frowns he’d tossed around like candy when I’d first met him eight months earlier. I’d never seen someone with so much anger balled up inside of them, not even Channing.
“What’s up, Bryan?” I asked, pulling a chair over to sit near him.
“I’m getting out soon,” he said, without meeting my gaze. He was intent on his paper, pencil flying across it to add detail and shading.
There was a tightness in my stomach that warned me to tread carefully. Release was a blessing and a curse for a lot of these kids. Oftentimes they didn’t have a home ready to welcome them back into, or job skills, or money. They were set up to go from a juvie center to a state or federal prison, and a lot of them knew it. I hated it.
“That’s great,” I said. “Where are you staying when you get out?”
He huffed. “You offering?”
I sighed. “No. But now I’m curious. Do you have a place to stay?”
“Yeah,” he admitted. “My grandfather said I could stay with him. I’m not interested in going back to my mom’s.”
I bet. I knew his story because he’d told it to me, either in words or in pictures, over the years that I’d been teaching him. His mother had an abusive boyfriend. Things had escalated between the three of them until Bryan had grown large enough to defend his mom. Unfortunately, his rage had grown alongside his body, and his defense had included taking an iron pipe to the boyfriend’s head.
The guy had lived, but it had been logged as assault because Bryan’s mother had thrown him under the bus. I was glad Bryan didn’t have to go back to that. “That’s great! I’m sure he’ll be glad to have you help around the house. What about school? Are you going to get your GED?”
He shook his head. “I won’t have time. I’ll need to get a job. I’m pretty sure the only ones that’ll take someone like me won’t leave much room or energy for school.”
And I got that, I did, but answers like that made me livid—not at the kid, but at a world that didn’t take care of its children.
“What if I gave you a job?” I asked before I could think twice about it, trying to ignore how my chest tightened. If he said ‘no’ then there was little I could do about it, so I tried not to get my hopes up; I knew from Javi, Dane, and Mateo that handouts were rarely accepted.
“Why?” Bryan was incredulous, his eyes finally meeting mine. “What’s the catch?”
A smile tugged at the corner of my mouth. “The catch is you’d have to get your GED and consider taking classes at the local college after. I’d give you plenty of time in your schedule to get school work finished. So a job with me equals finishing school.”
“But why would you do that for me?” Bryan insisted.
Taking a deep breath, I rested my hands on my knees. “My mom chose a dickhead over me, too. She was an alcoholic and he was, as well. Drugs, too. It took going to college for me to escape that household. But I was lucky—I’d found art early and it provided a way out. Not everyone gets that.”
Bryan’s eyes narrowed. “Yeah, no kidding. So, if I said yes, I’d be tattooing?”
Now I laughed heartily. “Uh, no. You may be able to apprentice, though. First, you’d start as an assistant—learning how to clean the machines, running errands, answering phones, that sort of thing. It’s a good way to see what the life of a tattoo artist is without committing to the vocation.” I stood up and patted Bryan’s shoulder. “I don’t need an answer now. Just think about it, okay?”
He nodded, his gaze distant and thoughtful, and that was the most I could hope for. It was difficult for me to see someone with so much talent on a knife’s edge like this. His life could go either way, and I couldn’t force him to choose the path I thought was best. But I’d sure as hell make it as easy for him as possible.
Class wrapped up soon after, and Bryan tossed me a quick wave as he left. I collected the drawings left behind and admired