a little bit of black with a little bit of pink

You! You're the one!

The first time Jennie could remember understanding the words on her arm were worrisome, she was five. Man, I can't believe Dumbledore died. She had seen words in black ink on everyone's arms – some of them mundane greetings, some cheesy pickup lines, and others wildly hilarious words – yet hers were ones that made people give her a wary look, and withdraw slightly at the sight of it. She had been five the first time she realised that to have the name of a dead person on your arm was not a good sign.

She didn't even know who Dumbledore was, but she remembered her mother making her wear button up shirts or dresses with long sleeves that hid the words ever since she could remember. It wasn't until she was six that she knew not to eagerly pull her sleeve up to show other people though, and after she did realise, the cuffs of her shirts never lifted above her wrist, and when people asked what the first words she would hear her soulmate speak were going to be, Jennie would abruptly change the conversation. At boarding school, the other girls thought her snobby and aloof – the strange Kim girl who never wore anything but long sleeves, even in summer – and they would taunt her, making mean guesses at what the words said, and some of the meaner ones even spreading a rumour that she didn't have a soulmate and her arm was blank.

It wasn't until Jennie was fourteen that she read the first Harry Potter book, mostly as a way to avoid spending time with her classmates, but also to satisfy her own curiosity at the book series that was all the craze right now as the sixth book was about to be published. She had always been a reader, but not of children's books, but she was running out of things to keep her mind occupied at boarding school, and a worn copy of the first book was on the bookshelf in the common room. In her dorm room, stretched out on her bed, her eyes eagerly drank in the words on the first few pages, until she reached page six.

Albus Dumbledore.

Jennie threw the thin book across the room, her mouth falling open in shock. Her soulmate's first words that Jennie would hear them speak were about a book character? She had spent nine years thinking that she had the name of a dead person written on her arm, and the entire time, it had been the name of a man who had just appeared on the pages of her book. She had been spoiled for a book series that hadn't even finished being written yet, and Jennie felt an irrational surge of anger as she climbed off her bed and picked up the book, fixing the slightly crumpled pages. Perched precariously on the edge of her bed, Jennie unbuttoned her shirt and rolled the sleeve up, trailing her fingertip over the black words printed on her pasty skin as she reread the name in the book.

Man, I can't believe Dumbledore died.

The door to her dorm room burst open, and Jennie dropped the book as she jumped slightly, looking up as her roommate walked in, dropping her hockey stick and gym bag to the floor with a loud clatter. Irene raised her eyebrows as she watched Jennie quickly tug the sleeve of her uniform down over the black writing on her arm.

"So you do have a soulmate then," Irene commented.

Jennie felt her temper flair up and she quickly buttoned her cuff, the muscles in her jaw working as she clenched her teeth, balling herself up in the corner of her bed, right up against the wall. "Mind your own business, Bae," Jennie snapped, aggressively opening up the book to page six again.

Irene snorted, giving Jennie a slight smirk as she pulled out a clean uniform, "relax, Kim, I don't give a shit what it says on your arm. I could've peeked at any point over the past few years – just remember that."