Devon rolled into the plaza around seven. The little kids were all in the skating rink next door. He could hear Blondie's "Call Me" through the glass doors. But Devon's crew of 18- and 19-year-olds was in their accustomed place, leaning against the pizza parlor's wall. Te bricks stayed warm from the ovens inside until about eleven.
"Sup?" he said to the gang.
"Sup?" they replied, all except Maxine, who only blew a truly enormous pink bubble until it burst with a pop.
"Gary been out?" Devon asked. Gary ran the pizza parlor. He didn't mind the kids hanging out as long as they bought waxed cups of soft drinks in the summer and styrofoam cups of coffee in the winter.
"Nah," said Brian. Brian was shifting around like his shirt was too scratchy. Devon knew what the problem was.
Two days before, Brian had called Devon at home and informed him that Brian was going to pierce his nipple.
"Pierce your nipple?"
"Yeah. I have a needle and a potato and an ice cube to numb it. Think I should use peroxide?"
"Rubbing alcohol for the needle at least," Devon had said.
An ear-shattering scream came through the phone lines.
"Did you really do it?" Devon demanded.
"That was just the ice!" Brian replied.

"Dude, seriously," Devon yanked Brian aside when the others went up to order. "You good?"

Brian fiddled with his shirt. "Yeah. Why are you being so weird?"

"I should be asking you. Was it the--"

"The what?"

"The...y'know," Devon made a stabbing motion with his finger, then pointed to his own chest.

Brian recoiled like Devon was made of red-hot iron. "Ew, bro! No!"

Maxine rushed over, wad of gum still popping between her teeth. "Guys, what are you doing?"

"Nothing, nothing," Brian said, running a sweaty hand over his face. "Max, get me..." he waved his hand in a circle. "Y'know. A thing."

Max turned to look in the direction he was gesturing to. "...a soda?" she asked, eyebrow arched.

"Yeah, a soda. Orange Crush. Please."

Max nodded, then looked to Devon, who had popped out of his seat. They exchanged a look, then walked up to the pizza counter.

"What's up with--?" Maxine asked, taking a waxy cup from the counter and filling it up with the watery syrup that dripped from the machine in radioactive-neon strands.

"Brian? He tried to give himself a piercing the other day."

Max sucked in air through her teeth sharply. "Eesh. I did that to a friend in middle-school 'cuz her mom wouldn't let her pierce her ears. She ended up with this killer infection."

Devon paused, going white as he bit into a hot piece of pizza, cheese dripping off the slice like toxic waste. "...killer?"

"God, no, not like that. She just had to take them out and go on these antibiotics for a week."

***

Brian Hollis had never felt pain like this before. Sharp, shooting pain that came in thick ribbons across his chest and shoulders like hot, flowing rivers. It was almost like a second bloodstream, pulsing and twisting through the fibres of his pecs, shoulders, arms. It had been constant for days now, but he had checked the piercing every time he went to the bathroom, and it looked...fine. Not red, or weepy, or even a little bit enlarged. It sat like it always had, a bulbous pink mass upon his pec, now adorned with a fat, thick safety pin, lodged within the middle of it. he could see the outline of it through his thin shirt fabric, and every time he looked, it seemed to move. It was the heat, he told himself, even as the pain travelled down his arm in a thick, sticky river, hands spasming. His eyes seemed to waver, blurring everything like the ceiling fan above, chest clenching.

Fuck, he needed that soda, he needed to get out of these clothes, he needed--

He tore off his shirt like it had stung him, and stared down at his one pierced nipples. Thousands of small, wriggling creatures were crusted around it.

Brian’s breath hitched. For a moment he couldn’t tell whether the room was spinning or if it was just him. The skin around the piercing looked…wrong, blood encrusted and gyrating like a fucked up, sentient scab. He staggered back, knocking into a chair. The metal legs screeched across the floor.

“Brian?” Devon’s voice came from behind him.

Brian swallowed hard. “Something’s…not right.”

Devon stepped closer, then stopped. Even from a distance he could see the way Brian’s shoulder twitched, the way his arm flexed involuntarily like a puppet pulled by the wrong strings.

Maxine appeared in the doorway, soda cup in hand. “Guys, what--”

She froze.

Devon felt the hair on his arms rise. “We’re getting you to a doctor. Now.”

Brian shook his head, voice trembling. “I don’t think this is…medical.”