“Thanks.” Tears streamed from the corners of Liam’s eyes. She was hurting him, but he didn’t think he could say anything. He turned his head to glance at Ryan, stretched out on his back beside him. The Professor had already painted a tattoo of a bleeding tiger cub all over his entire torso and the words ENDANGERED SPECIES across his chest. He was waiting for the ink to set, his shoes off, eyes closed. He seemed to be in his element.

“Hey,” Liam whispered at him.

Ryan opened his eyes. “Hey,” he said back. “You’re cool,” he added, as if sensing that Liam was uncomfortable. “Remember, we could be doing something really boring right now like playing Fortnite.”

If only, Liam thought. He lifted his head. His chest was painted with a neon-red target. The word BULLSEYE was written in black glitter paint above it.

When the ink had set and The Professor had gelled their hair and applied lip gloss, concealer, face powder, eyeliner, and mascara, and they had donned their sneakers and shrugged on their new Sublime apparel over their bare, tattooed chests, the boys were released outdoors. There was a flash of cameras.

“Models, hello?” Trey clapped his long, thin hands together, as if to signal that he meant business, they were working. Liam elbowed Ryan hard in the upper arm, but Ryan refused to look at him. Ryan looked like a total freaking pro in his baby-blue parka, unzipped to reveal the bleeding, flaming orange-and-black tiger cub on his chest, his cheeks glittering with gold makeup. Liam was pretty sure he didn’t look quite as good.

“The boys lined up out here think they’re waiting for a drop. Really, they’re props. We’re staging a protest to advertise the merchandise and feed the frenzy on social media, etcetera. You two are the leaders. You rile them up. The photographers take pictures. You look perfect.” He nodded at Liam. “Love the pimples. Now go. Go.”

Ryan dashed fearlessly into the crowd. Liam had no choice but to follow him.

“What are we doing?” he shouted.

Ryan stopped halfway down the block next to the long line of boys waiting to get into the store. He planted his feet and fanned out his baby-blue Sublime parka behind him like a peacock’s tail, flexing his chest muscles.

“Fucking A!” one of the boys in line cheered loudly. “No more fucking guns!”

“Bullseye!” another boy yelled and pointed at Liam. “Bullshit!”

Liam wasn’t sure if this was good or bad.

“No more bullshit. No more bullshit!” the photographers chorused as they snapped pictures.

Ryan just stood there looking sad and glamorous, modeling. Liam tried to imitate him but he felt like a freak. His pants were falling down, his shoes were ugly, and the body paint was itchy.