“He doesn’t mean his skin color. White means—” “Fresh and clear, like a clean canvas.” Remy’s eyes light up, and he looks at Verity. “Can I give him his first tattoo?” I jolt forward to take him. “Okay, enough of that.” He frowns, but hands Justice over to me. “Not now. I mean when he turns sixteen.” At Nick’s elbow jabbing into his side, he hisses, “Fine, eighteen.”
