Free Golden Boy by Abigail Tarttelin Page A

preventative medicine for.’
    ‘Oh.’
    ‘Would you like the medication?’
    Max thinks. I can’t see his eyes properly, behind his hair. He’s looking down at his knees. He rubs an eye with his sleeve again. ‘Probably not.’
    ‘OK. Alright, let me get a Levonelle pack.’
    I stand up and he looks at me, lost.
    ‘The emergency contraceptive. I’ll just be a minute.’
    I put my hand reassuringly on his shoulder and sweep out the door.

Max

    T his is the most embarrassing, horrible day of my life, and if I can just get through it, stay blank, breathe in and out, keep smiling, keep nodding, it’ll be over, and tomorrow will be better, and the next day will be better than that and soon it’ll be like it never happened.
    I’m never going to hang around with Hunter again and in less than two years he’ll have gone to uni and I won’t see him at all. Maybe our parents will stop being friends and drift apart. Maybe we’ll move away. You never know what will happen in the future. Things often work out even when you really, really think they won’t, like that time when I was little and I was convinced, utterly convinced, that Mum wasn’t going to come home, and I didn’t know why at the time but I knew she wasn’t, whether she was dead, or had left us, I don’t know, but she did come home, she did. Dad was angry at her, and I shouted at him not to be because I thought she would leave again, but she didn’t, she stayed and everything I thought would happen didn’t happen. Sometimes things just aren’t what you think they are, and even when things seem really bad, it can work out. Everything can work out and go back to normal. If I can just get the pill, then I’ll buy some more Ibuprofen on the way home at the chemists, or in Sainsburys, because then I can go through self-service and I won’t have to talk to anyone to explain why a Walker kid is out of school during school time, then I can get home, say to Mum I’m ill and go to sleep.
    Then maybe tomorrow I’ll call in sick. No, I don’t want to miss school tomorrow! I’ve been looking forward to tomorrow for ages. Fuck Hunter, I’m not going to let him ruin my day. OK, so tomorrow will be good and then I’ll forget about it, minute by minute it’ll trickle out of my brain until it means nothing, and it just hasn’t happened.
    So. First I get the pill, then Sainsburys. What if the pill is too late? No, it works up to twenty-four hours after, that’s what they said in class. It’s been . . . fourteen hours. That’s OK. Besides, Dr Verma seems to think I’m not fertile. I think she thinks that anyway. She’s a bit brusque and clinical. She’s like, let’s get to it, matter of fact. I guess that’s good in a doctor but it makes me feel more shitty. I thought I’d be able to talk about everything, but I can’t bring myself to tell her about Hunter.
    I just have to get through today. Then things will go back to normal. Until next year, when maybe all the other guys will have facial hair, and then in two years, when everyone will be having sex but me, and then in ten years, when everyone will be getting married and having kids but me, and over the years, the kissing will dry up because I won’t have sex with people, because I won’t go out with people, because if I have sex with someone, they’ll see, and then they won’t want to go out with me anyway. Because I’m a freak. Because I’m freakish.

Archie

    ‘ R ight. I have to ask you a few questions before I can give you the pill.’
    The door swings shut and I take my seat opposite Max.
    ‘’K,’ he mumbles.
    ‘Oh!’ I turn to face him and speak softly. ‘Don’t cry, it’s OK.’
    Max puts both hands, gripping sweater sleeves, over his face. His skin is red and tears fall onto his lap. He sobs something into his palms.
    ‘Pardon?’
    ‘I hate it.’
    I hesitate, not knowing what to do. I end up reaching out and squeezing his arm. ‘Do you mean being intersex? Do you get upset