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corridor. Jack picked out some of the faces he’d known since Upland West Primary: people he’d sat next to in class, people he’d played sport with, people he’d been friends with, even. But then there’d been Bigwigs , and the start of high school, and meeting Vivi and Reese and Darylyn. Everyone had outgrown the old bonds from primary school.
    He wondered if he’d made a terrible mistake, turning away from his Bigwigs semi-fame. He should have cashed it in as a kind of popularity insurance policy. Maybe then it wouldn’t have been so easy for everyone to leave him behind. As it was, he felt like an embarrassing leftover from another time.
    A time before pubes.
    ‘Jack!’ said a voice behind him. Jack turned to see Philo standing in the corridor, grinning eagerly. ‘Hi! You’ve got lavender in your hair!’
    Jack tipped his head forward and finger-combed the purple flowers out of his fringe. ‘Hi, Philo.’
    ‘Speaking of hair …’ Philo reached into his satchel.
    Jack glanced at Philo warily. Speaking of hair ? This did not sound good.
    ‘That’s right: I think I might have the solution to your problem!’
    Jack shook his head. ‘I don’t have a –’
    ‘Ta-da!’
    Philo handed Jack a flap of beige-coloured cloth with a dense mass of black, wiry strands stitched to it. Underneath the cloth were several strips of carefully positioned double-sided tape.
    Jack stared at it for a moment. Then he stared at it a moment longer.
    ‘Is this what I think it is?’ he whispered, wide-eyed with horror. He looked up at Philo in a panic. ‘Is this … holy crap, is this a merkin ?’
    ‘I don’t know,’ Philo whispered back. ‘What’s a merkin?’
    Jack took Philo aside and shook the wiry thatch at him. ‘It’s this!’ he hissed, keeping his voice low so no-one else would hear. ‘It’s what this is. This is a merkin. This pube wig is a merkin!’
    In Year 7, Jack had mistyped the word ‘Merlin’ in an English essay and became curious when the spellchecker didn’t pick it up. One image search later, and a whole new world of pubic fashion had been laid bare – or not – before him.
    ‘Oh,’ said Philo, looking annoyed. ‘I didn’t realise that was already a thing.’
    ‘You mean … you came up with the idea of a merkin by yourself ?’
    ‘Yeah, I guess so. Wow, now I feel stupid. I could’ve just bought one on the internet or something. Anyway, it’s just so you don’t have to feel so out of place in the changing room.’
    ‘No, this wouldn’t make me look out of place at all ,’ Jack said, rolling his eyes. Then he stopped. ‘Wait, if you didn’t buy this …’
    ‘I made it.’
    ‘You made it?’
    ‘With Mother’s sewing kit. It took me all night.’
    Jack turned the material over in his hands. Gross and creepy though it was, he had to admit Philo had put a lot of effort into it. ‘You know, it’s actually pretty solid work … What did you use for the – ?’ Then his eyes widened. ‘Wait … Oh my god, it’s not your hair, is it?’
    Philo went suddenly shifty-eyed. ‘What?’
    Jack held the homemade merkin as far away as possible without attracting attention from the rest of 8C. ‘Have you just given me a handful of your own pubes ?’ he hissed.
    ‘Would that be bad?’
    ‘Yes, that would be bad!’
    ‘Even if they’d been shampooed first?’
    Jack’s eyes widened even further. ‘So they are your pubes!’
    Philo paused. ‘I didn’t say that.’
    ‘Whose are they, then?’
    ‘Whose are what?’
    ‘Whose pubes are they? What else would I be talking about when I’m holding a bunch of pubes ? What were you expecting me to do with this thing, anyway?’ Jack whispered. ‘ Wear it?’
    ‘Just until …’ Philo lowered his hands and made wafting motions upwards in an apparent attempt to mime the growth of pubic hair.
    ‘I don’t believe this!’
    ‘You’d be more like Oliver Sampson,’ said Philo.
    ‘Why? Does he have someone else’s pubes stuffed down