It hurt a little, but I figured it was worth it.

Colin, the tattoo artist, bandaged my arm. “Don’t scratch!” he warned. He seemed a little creepy, but I had always wanted a tattoo. My parents hated the idea, though, so I had to wait. On my 18th birthday, I went for it.

As soon as I got home, odd things began to happen. It started with Doyle, our neighbor’s dog. Usually he was pretty mellow but now he seemed agitated, baring his teeth at me.

I went inside. Dumping my backpack and phone, I headed for the kitchen to find a snack. My mom was looking through a cookbook, but quickly shut it. “Jenna!” she said. “I didn’t hear you come in.”

“What’s up with Doyle?” I asked. “He practically attacked me.”

“What’s that?”

She meant the bandage. “I got a tattoo,” I said.

“Oh. Well, I hope you don’t end up… regretting it.”

Tired of that argument, I went off to study until dinner. We were supposed to have pizza for my birthday. In the front room, I stopped in confusion. I had tossed everything on the table by the door, but none of my stuff was there.

“Kendra!” I yelled. “Did you move my stuff?!”

“Why would I touch your stuff?!” came my sister’s angry reply, even though she constantly borrows things without asking. I stomped upstairs to confront her, but then saw my things sitting neatly on my bed. Maybe I was getting lightheaded. I had never grabbed that snack.

Our little pizza party was nice but kind of lame. My arm was starting to itch, but I ignored it like creepy Colin said.

That night, I heard a weird creaking noise and what sounded like footsteps coming from above my bed, in the attic where nobody ever went. In the morning, I asked my parents about it.

“We didn’t hear anything, sweetheart,” my mom insisted. My dad just shrugged.

At school, I tried to get Liz and Dylan to make weekend plans, but they acted weird, like they didn't hear me. My arm started to itch more. I almost scratched it but caught myself. Lowering my hand, I looked around. Suddenly everybody was looking someplace else, like they had been staring but didn’t want me to notice. Liz whispered something to Dylan but I couldn’t hear what.

By the time I got home I was in a mood. This time I made sure to grab one of those fruit rollups I always liked when I was little. The taste was comforting. I went to the bookshelf in the living room and took down my baby book, which I hadn’t done in ages. It had my name on the cover, in letters made of pink yarn. I opened it—

The album was empty. Page after page, all the pictures I remembered were gone. I dropped the book. “Mom!” I screamed. I went running and dragged her back into the living room.

The book wasn’t on the floor or the shelf. I looked around frantically.

“My baby book!” I said. “Where did it go?”

“I don’t know, honey,” my mom said soothingly. “Maybe you misplaced it.”

It was no use. I had no appetite and went to bed early, but again woke up in the middle of the night. This time I heard an eerie, hollow noise like some kind of giant animal breathing heavily.

In the morning there was blood on my sheets. The bandage had come off my arm. I must have been scratching the tattoo in my sleep!

Worried that I had ruined it, I ran out of the house. Maybe Colin would have some ointment or something. But when I got the tattoo parlor, the place was boarded up, like nobody had been there for years.

“Looking for something, dear?” It was an old lady, passing by.

“The tattoo parlor,” I said. “I was just here a couple of days ago. On my birthday.”

“Tattoo parlor?” she said. “Not since I’ve been living in this neighborhood. Which is a long time!” She chuckled, then continued on her way.

I felt like I was going crazy. Suddenly I couldn’t get the thought out of my mind: “I think my new tattoo is haunted!”

I walked home, trying to clear my head. The house seemed unnaturally dark and quiet. Where was everybody? I turned on a light—

“SURPRISE! HAPPY BIRTHDAY!”

My parents, my sister, Liz, Dylan, everybody jumped up, wearing little party hats. I noticed a big collage made from all the pictures in my baby book, the ones I had thought were missing. My mom emerged from the kitchen carrying a big cake with all the candles lit. “You almost caught me looking up the recipe!” she laughed. My sister admitted that she stole my phone to get everybody’s contact info.

My head was spinning. So that was why everybody had been whispering behind my back! It all made sense now.

There was a big pile of presents, too. My dad explained that he had hidden them in the attic to be safe. “Open this one first!” said my sister, handing me a box. When I did, a kitten jumped out and started licking my face.

“Wait,” I said. “This must be why the dog was going crazy!” Everybody laughed.

Then I heard it again: that eerie, hollow noise. I turned in horror—but it was just my friend Deke using a rented machine to inflate party balloons. All of the mysteries were now explained.

Except…

“The tattoo parlor,” I said. “How could it just vanish like that?”

Suddenly nobody was smiling anymore.

“You had to get a tattoo, didn’t you?” my sister spat.

My mom grimaced. “Disgusting.”

“One way to solve that!” my dad growled. He grabbed the big cake knife. I gasped, but strong hands grabbed me from all directions, holding me down as he approached with the knife gleaming.

“This’ll hurt a little,” he said. “But I figure it's worth it.”