Stripes

[i_speak_softly]

It took April a while to find the answer to her question.

She had no luck on The-Lizardserv. Nor on the somewhat creepily-named IntoColdBlood.net.

She finally found what she was looking for on the HerpePhile Forums. The thread was almost three years old, it was entitled “Funny stripes??”, and it had been posted by user BeauxArts.

She clicked, and slowly read to the bottom.

“Oh, Donnie,” she whispered.

“Hey, Donnie?”

“Yes April?” he replied immediately. It came out an octave too high; he kicked himself and tried again. “Yes, April?” This time, a couple of tones too low. He was about to try a third time when she interrupted him.

“I hope this isn’t a weird question or anything, but what’s with those stripes on your arms?”

His eyes snapped to his arms as though he’d never seen them before.

But of course he had. And he’d had to ask about them.

“Daddy?”

Someday, Splinter reminded himself, peaceful meditation would again be possible. Someday in twenty years, maybe.

He opened one eye. “Yes, my son?”

Donatello twisted his fingers together. “How come Leo and Raph and Mikey got dark stripes, and I got light stripes?”

Splinter’s other eye flew open, and only the child’s inexperience and averted gaze allowed him to hide how unsettled he was by the question.

The bell over the shop door rang as Yoshi entered.

He looked immediately to see whether the tank of baby turtles was still there, and only then did he greet the shopkeeper.

The pet shop’s proprietor knew him well by now: knew him as that strange foreign man who had been coming for weeks to watch the tiny reptiles, then stand in front of the shelves, silently calculating what it would cost to adequately care for a scaly pet.

Yoshi didn’t know why he was so drawn to the turtles. An animal that could live contentedly in a ten-gallon tank was obviously no replacement for the wife and daughter he had lost. And yet, he couldn’t seem to stay away from them.

He had carefully saved up one hundred dollars: ninety-five to buy an aquarium, the necessary accessories, and a starter supply of food. Then, just enough left over to pay for a single turtle.

But when he moved down the aisle to the tank he had picked out, he found something unexpected.

On Sale, an orange tag proclaimed.

Yoshi snatched up the tank as if in a daze, as if this unlooked-for windfall would be taken away in the next five minutes. He knew well the locations of the other supplies, gathered them quickly, moved on to the most important part of his task.

The turtles crawled around in their display tank, and Yoshi almost held his breath as he watched them. He now had an extra twenty dollars to spend on something that was alive. He could have five baby turtles.

He had spent hours in the library preparing for this moment. He chose the turtles that seemed most spirited, checking their condition carefully before placing them in the tank under his arm. One by one, he selected his new family.

He was just turning away with his five new charges when another hatchling caught his eye. It was a different color than the others, an unusual pale pattern, but it did not show any of the signs of disease Yoshi had learned to look for.

“What is this one?” he asked the shopkeeper.

The man ambled over and looked, peering under Yoshi’s pointing finger. “’S a pastel,” he said, in a thick New York accent. “Just a color mutation.” He moved to return to his post, then added, “Rare. Popular. Costs twice as much.”

Yoshi hesitated, torn. Then, almost impulsively, he took two turtles out of the small tank, returning them to their fellows. The little pastel went in amongst the filters and food pellets instead.

“I do not know, my son,” Splinter murmured. “I am sure it is no reason for concern.”

“O-kay,” Donatello replied, and padded away across the Lair.

“It. Um. It’s just a color variance. Turtle thing. You know.”

“Uh,” April said. “Sure.”

Now she knew why Don had avoided the question.

He hadn’t wanted her to know that he knew that his father had paid extra for his stripes.