Dianne Salerni - The Eighth Day

“All 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?”

“Jax 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.

“Jax,” hollered Riley. “Bring the dagger.”

Jax ran down the remaining steps into the kitchen, then 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.

“Turn 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 lights.

THE VOICES FADEDin and out, and it took a while for Jax to focus on the words.

“Why don’t we all move someplace else? The Emrys girl too.”

“Camouflage works best when you stay in one place, Crandall. Start moving, and all bets are off.”

“Yeah, but in this case . . .”

“Jax is awake.”

Jax could’ve sworn he hadn’t moved. But now he opened his eyes. His left hand tingled, and when he looked at it . . . “Hey!” he shouted, sitting up and finding himself on the living room sofa. “I passed out and you finished the tattoo ?”

A.J. shrugged. “You were nice and still.”

His skin looked puffy and red, but the Aubrey crest was now inked into his wrist. It must have taken hours to finish the job. Was it normal to be out cold that long? Jax looked accusingly at the other boys.

But his eyes were drawn back to the tattoo. It was undeniably cool. A.J. had gotten creative with the design: the eye on the scroll was fancier, he’d made the bird a bald eagle, and the flames were colorfully inked in red and gold. But it was basically the same family crest that Jax’s father had had tattooed on his wrist and engraved on his fancy dagger.

“There’s one more thing to do.” A.J. picked the Aubrey dagger off the coffee table. “Come over here . . . and kneel down in front of Riley.”

“No,” said Riley.

A.J. frowned. “I know he’s young for it, but how else are you going to protect him?”

“Gimme that.” Jax stood up and snatched the dagger from A.J.’s hand. He didn’t know what they were talking about, but he didn’t like the sound of it. Kneel to Riley?

A.J. turned toward Riley. “You said you were going to look out for the kid.”

“I will,” said Riley. “The oath I made to his father covers that. I don’t require anything else from Jax.”

“I don’t know what you promised my dad,” Jax said, “but you’ve been a lousy guardian.”

“Is that what you think?” Riley replied.

“You haven’t looked out for me.” Jax scowled. “You haven’t explained anything to me— why we get this extra day, or who else gets it, or how there can be people who live on only one day a week.”

“Those are a lot of questions.”

“I’ve got more.” Jax held up his sore arm. “Why do I have to have a tattoo with my family crest, but you camouflage yours?”

“You’re right. We do need to talk about that, but not tonight.” Riley removed his dagger from its sheath and balanced it on the palm of his hand. “Getting marked takes a lot out of you,” he said, looking up from the dagger and meeting Jax’s eyes. “I might be a lousy guardian, but I know you’re tired and need to go to bed.”

I am not , Jax wanted to say. Instead he swayed, and his eyelids got too heavy to hold up. He would’ve fallen into the coffee table if Riley and A.J. hadn’t grabbed his arms. They hauled him upstairs, Jax mumbling protests all the way, and when they dumped him into bed, his eyes closed and stayed that way.

“You’ll sleep till morning” was the last thing he heard Riley say.

In the morning, Jax woke with a sense of panic. His arm was sore but not so puffy anymore. He tried to remember why he’d held out his arm to A.J. and all he could think of was: he hadn’t wanted to. It made him shudder to remember how eagerly he’d asked for a snake when seconds earlier he’d wanted nothing to do with those needles. He pulled on a long-sleeved shirt and left the house for school without stopping for breakfast.

“Jax?” Riley called out from the kitchen as he passed by. “Hey, Jax!”

Jax didn’t answer. He quickened his pace and walked down the street to catch the bus at Billy’s house.

The long-sleeved shirt didn’t fool Billy, who spotted the tattoo on the bus. Jax had to give a partial explanation, and Billy was hurt. “If A.J. Crandall was doing home tattoos, why didn’t you call me? My mom would’ve killed me for getting a tattoo.” He said the last as if it were an honor Jax had denied him.

Jax couldn’t tell Billy about Grunsday, and he couldn’t explain how Riley and A.J. had tattooed his arm against his will. “I passed out, all right?” he finally said. “I would’ve called you, but I fainted as soon as A.J. stuck a needle in my arm, and I was embarrassed.”

“Dude, you didn’t.”

“Like a girl. I fainted like a girl.” And stayed passed out for the next three hours.

Billy crowed with laughter. Jax tugged down his sleeve and asked, “Can I stay at your house this weekend?” Suddenly, Jax was afraid to go home—afraid of Riley.

“Sure. Unless . . .” Billy’s eyes lit up. “Do you think A.J. would—”

“You’d need permission from your parents,” Jax said promptly.

Billy’s shoulders slumped. “I said it before and I’ll say it again. You are so lucky to have Riley Pendare as your guardian.”

THE BOYS HOLED UPin Billy’s basement rec room Friday night to play video games. Jax borrowed Billy’s computer and waited until his friend was fully engaged defending Hyrule against an army of giant spiders before he opened up Google. Searching for Grunsday turned up nothing but jokes. Eighth day or eight days a week unearthed movies and song titles. Jax scratched at the tattoo, which had begun to itch, then tried extra day between Wednesday and Thursday .

A site called Between Wednesday and Thursday topped the list. The link led to a message board with a banner that read: If you have to ask, you don’t belong here. There was only one thing visible on the page: