Leo stood outside the pharmacy for ten minutes, adjusting the straps of his backpack until his shoulders ached. He was fourteen, and every person walking past felt like a undercover judge. Inside, the air smelled of peppermint and antiseptic.
"That’ll be twelve-fifty," the cashier said, her voice flat and bored.
He walked to the back aisle, his sneakers squeaking against the linoleum. There they were. The boxes were bright, clinical, and intimidating. He picked up a pack, his hands feeling clumsily large, and stared at the price tag as if he were deeply interested in the economy of latex. "Need help finding a size?" can a 14 year old buy condoms
Leo walked out into the cool evening air, the bag heavy in his hand. No alarms had gone off. No one had stopped him. He realized then that to the rest of the world, he was just another customer taking care of himself. He took a deep breath, shifted his backpack, and started the walk home.
When it was his turn, he placed the items on the counter. He didn't look up. He expected a lecture, a phone call to his parents, or at least a laugh. The cashier scanned the pretzels. Beep. Then the condoms. Beep. Leo stood outside the pharmacy for ten minutes,
Leo jumped. An older employee in a blue vest was restocking vitamins nearby. Leo shook his head quickly, his face flushing a deep, unmistakable red. He marched to the register, tucked the box under a bag of pretzels, and waited behind a woman buying cough syrup.
Leo handed over a crumpled twenty. She counted out his change, slid the items into a plastic bag, and handed him the receipt. "That’ll be twelve-fifty," the cashier said, her voice
"Have a good one," she muttered, already looking at the person behind him.