Word Count: 1,127
"But I'm not a boy!" she argued when her mother had called her that. Her mother had intended it as a complement, but that did not matter.
"You are a boy, Johnny. I would know, I'm your mother. Now eat your cereal."
"Yes, mum," she muttered obediently, but she only pushed it around in her bowl.
She was not hungry anymore.
The praise for not being expelled, not having a warning, and even getting a B despite her ADHD and dyslexia did not feel like it was aimed at her, so it did not help at all.
"Come on, we'll go to the archery club!"
Normally she loved to shoot with her little bow and arrows, with her quiver strapped on her back, but today she was not able to clear her head and let go of the world like she usually was.
"But I'm not a boy!" she protested when her class was being divided into boys and girls for some stupid project.
"Jonathan Foster, stop with these tales!" her teacher almost shrieked.
Disappointed, she looked at her shoes. "Yes, Ma'am."
She was always counted as a boy.
There was a reason why she hated gym even if she could run around there. Boys were icky and she hated that she had to share a change room with them.
And in the breaks between lessons she was not allowed to talk with the girls. Instead, she had to play football with the boys and was told that girls were icky, which was obviously wrong.
This was wrong. This was not the way it was supposed to be.
Wrong. Wrong. Wrong.
"But I'm not a boy," she corrected her best friend when he called her 'bro' for the first time. It was more hesitant and quieter than she had done before.
He laughed and rolled his eyes.
"That's a good one mate. Anyways, can your mom drive us to cinema or not?"
"Yeah, but not tomorrow, she's got a friend over—some dude named Fred—and doesn't have time before Saturday."
His eyes were trying to escape his skull for a second, before he let himself fall onto his couch. "We've gotta wait until weekend to see the newest movie that everyone is going to talk about for the entire week? That sucks, man."
"Yeah," she agreed.
He had no idea what really sucked, if he thought that this did.
They were still friends, but she did not like him quite as much after that.
She was not sure why she expected something different.
But I'm not a boy, she had stopped to say it out loud when she was twelve.
There simply was no point when everyone just kept ignoring her.
She still corrected everyone in the privacy of her own head.
Not a boy. Not a boy. Not a boy.
A constant mantra in her head.
It was something to cling to, something to keep her sane.
She had figured it out when she was six.
Now she was sixteen, a decade had came and gone and the only thing that had changed was that she was further from the body she was supposed to have.
But I'm not a boy, she thought as the Hunters of Artemis picked her up after her mother had died.
"Come along, boy. Just because I happened to be nearby, my stupid brother seems to think he can use me as some sort of taxi service for his brats," Artemis had said.
The Hunters actually looked really awesome.
A girl that was wearing a black 'Barbie Must Die' shirt, ripped pants, spiky boots, and a tiara—for some strange reason—explained the rules of the Hunters to her.
"I would love to join," she said, looking at the other person in the tent hopefully.
The punk girl gave her an apologetic look. "Sorry, no boys. That's the rules."
But I am not a boy!
"I-I'm sorry, but I-I'm not a-a boy," she stuttered worse than she ever had before and spoke so quiet it would be a wonder if he heard her.
She had worked hard to work up the courage to say it out loud again, but the young man that was showing her around seemed really nice.
He was shocked for a second, but that expression quickly turned into something else. Something she had never seen before when she had said this: understanding.
"Oh, I'm so sorry," he apologized. "I have been trying to stop making these kind of assumptions around people. I've been proven wrong a couple of times too often back in the New Rome college and it's terribly rude. Also my fiance likes it, so that's also a plus. I'm not the best to help you, but I think I know someone who can."
"I'm not a boy," she told the goth boy-perhaps-man that she had been sent to.
He nodded. "That's cool. I'm gay, personally. My boyfriend's bi. Let me introduce you to the Camp's LGBT+ community. Do you go by another name or are you comfortable with being called John?"
"That's an option?!"
The boy nodded a second time. "Of course it is. It wouldn't do for you to be constantly uncomfortable and cringing every time someone speaks to you, would it?"
She grinned. Her smile was so wide that it almost hurt.
"I suppose you're right."
"I'm a girl," she started to introduce herself at the somewhat hidden meeting in Bunker Nine. "I'm a girl and my name is Mary."
An elvish looking Latino boy grinned at her. "Hey Mary."
The girl next to him—his girlfriend?—smacked him over the head. "Excuse him. He's pan and can't seem to stop flirting." She glared at him.
He held up his hands in defense. "Hey, I'm improving. I was honestly just trying to welcome her."
"Sure you were," a young woman that held herself quite well and kept stroking two dogs—one silver, one gold. "Anyway, hey Mary. I'm your non-binary guidance counselor. If—and I do mean 'if' and not 'when'—you ever think you might not be a girl after all, but something different, feel free to come to me for advice."
"Thank you for your offer, but I already know what I am."
"I'm a girl," she said confidently. She stood straight and held her head high. "My name is Mary Foster, I am a daughter of Apollo, and I would like to join the Hunters."
Artemis looked her up and down, clearly judging her broad shoulders, lack of breasts or any other womanly features. Other than her long blonde hair she had finally grown out.
"Alright," the goddess said slowly. "We will try."
Punk girl gave her a thumbs up.
She grinned as a reply.
She was a girl—Mary, not Jonathan—and finally others saw it too.
Please tell me what you think!
~Marvelgeek42
