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.