Claire

"Ouch, ow, ow, ow." I cry out when the needle hits my wrist for what Ed assured me were the finishing touches on my tattoo. Somehow, he'd talked me into making a pit stop at Irish Ink on our way home from camping.

"Seriously?" My cousin laughs at me, wiping away the excess ink.

"Low pain tolerance." I remind him, trying to defend my outburst. Surely he'd get people like me come in here all the time, the ones who want the tattoo but can't take the pain?

"Wait until you get one ...