101. Diagnosis

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This chapter is dedicated to Cassie. Thank you for supporting me! Can you guess what's going to come out of this appointment?


The clinic wasn't the most friendly place in the world, and Tess was reminded why it had taken so long for her to make this appointment. Why she'd kept on telling herself that the problem would go away by itself. From the outside, the building was a faceless grey structure that could have been anything; yet another former industrial unit on the edge of town that had been mostly empty since all the manufacturing jobs had gone oversees; occupied for six-month stretches by some small firm who thought that vegan pogo sticks were bound to be the next big thing. Most of the companies around here started with whatever funding they had been able to scrape together, and expensive ego boosts like a flashy sign would appear as a last sign of desperation when they didn't want to admit they were going under; so a fading logo on the wall only served as a memorial to somebody's dreams.

This grey cube was part of a chain, linked to six others, but there was no external hint that the buildings were connected on the inside. A sign beside one of the doors said 'ADCCG', with a push button beside it. Ashfields District Confidential Clinic for Girls. Presumably there was a boys' clinic around here somewhere, but Tess didn't know where it might be. Everybody had been given a leaflet in school at the start of the year, with an email address on a tear-off slip in case you didn't want your parents to know what it was for. If boys didn't come here, then their first contact must send them to a different address.

She pressed the buzzer, waited a few seconds until there was a click, and walked in. The front corridor was pretty dilapidated, and there was more grey, but it was clean. This place probably didn't have the greatest budget; or they thought that making it too bright and shiny would make its purpose too easy to figure out for the people she wanted to keep her visit secret from.

There was a sterile waiting room at the end of the corridor, with a couple of girls sitting in chairs around the room. They all looked pretty worried. There had been a side door off the main corridor where returning patients could drop in to pick up free birth control; those girls represented most of the visitors, and wouldn't even need to speak to someone after their first consultation. But the four here all had some kind of problem. A little redhead who looked even younger than Tess was probably pregnant. She might be visiting a confidential clinic, but it looked like it would only be a few weeks before her classmates were in no doubt. Another sat in her own little cloud of silence, warning silently that nobody should approach as she stared at her hands, plucking at a rubber band worn like a watch.

Tess couldn't guess what the other girls were in for, and she didn't want to. There was nobody she knew here, and for that she was glad. Of course, if they wanted extra privacy there would be an option of a separate waiting room. Most of them just wanted their situation to be kept secret from their families, or from one person in particular. Tess forced herself not to wonder whether the pregnant girl's boyfriend knew she was here. Or if he cared.

It felt unfair for Tess to be here. She was happy at home, living with a family who loved her. Everybody here had more serious problems than her. Serious health issues, things they didn't dare share. Tess's only excuse was that she was embarrassed, but she could easily imagine some of these girls would be in danger. Was she making light of their problems by putting herself in the same category? She started down at her phone and tried not to think about it. Tried not to feel guilty. She sent a message to Gabby, saying that she was visiting Kim after school to sort out some kind of vague homework assignment that they were failing to master different parts of. Before she knew it, there was someone standing beside her; a doctor with a reassuring smile.

"Tess Naylor?" she confirmed. "Come this way please."

The doctor's office was a little more brightly lit than the waiting room, and there were all kinds of posters on the watt. Tess noticed a pink one with little cartoon cells dancing around talking about their function. Just in case a six year old ever needed to know what a spleen was for. Tess could only imagine that one particular doctor thought it was fun to collect all these odd things; or that the quirky decor could help raise a smile in a nervous patient.

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