The test.(Story)(Short story)

A teenage boy sat by the merry-go-round in the city square. He wore a black beanie pulled down to his brow and the collar of his trench coat touched his cheeks like mothering hands. He concealed a cigarette in his cupped palm and as he lowered his lips to it, his eyes moved across the square. It was quiet and empty, but for the merry-go-round attendant counting coins into a till. A concrete sky sat heavy on the buildings. When he saw the girl come out of the surgery he dropped the cigarette and kicked it beneath the bench. He snuck the last of the smoke out the corner of his mouth.

The girl's blue parka made her head and legs look small, and her hands were tucked inside the sleeves. Her lips were the same colour as the veins beneath her pale flesh. She sat down on the bench, panting steam into the air, and looked at the merry-go-round. The attendant unbolted and lifted the wire cage, and the noise barked through the square. The horses, cast in full flight, hung waxy and still. The boy sniffed.

"Has it got it, then?" he said.

"Don't call it it, OK," the girl said.

The boy looked down at his feet and pushed ash into a crack with the heel of his boot. He rubbed his chin, searching for whiskers.

"You can call it Jayden," the girl said, turning to face him, "or you can call it Caitlin. Just don't call it it."

"Jayden's such a weak name."