A/N: Just a little something that popped into my head. I figure Daryl's childhood was pretty rough so I wanted to give him a moment of kindness, something the giver would forget over the years but would stick with Daryl.
Rrrrrggrrrrr!
Eight-year old Daryl Dixon made a point of ignoring his rumbling stomach. In fact, there were a lot of things he was pointedly ignoring, like every single one of his happily chatting and eating classmates. He was hunched over in his seat, arms resting on the table and head bowed as he glared at the ugly wood-print of the fold up bench table. Once in while he'd lift his head and spare a glance to the clock on the wall above the back door. Lunch seemed to be going on for eternity and Daryl just wanted it to end. Hell, he just wanted this whole day to end so he could go home and scavange for something to eat. He was tentatively hopeful that his father had ordered another pizza before he started drinking and Daryl could snag a slice before Merle demolished it.
As Daryl battled his growling stomach on his empty end of the bench, a classmate watched him quietly from the exact opposite seat at their table. Around her, boys and girls talked animatedly and loudly, adding to the general din of the crowded cafeteria full of first through third graders. Normally, Moira would be laughing with them and trading lunches with her friends but last week she had noticed something; Daryl Dixon didn't have a lunch. At first she thought this was just a case of a forgotten packed lunch. It was known to happen fairly often and kids would then use their lunch tickets to get a school lunch.
On Thursday last week Moira hadn't seen Daryl eating anything. She merely shrugged it off. Most of the kids thought Daryl was a little strange because he was so quiet. Maybe his lack of eating was just part of that strangeness.
On Friday, Moira had noticed the same thing happen. Daryl failed to produce a lunch box or a brown paper bag and instead of getting in line for food, he just sat and waited for recess.
Today was now Monday and Moira watched him, looking for any sign of a lunch. Again, he failed to produce one and after most of the kids were already seated, he still didn't move to get in the school lunch line. And Moira had quietly kept an eye out for him this morning when the kids had all lined up to buy their lunch tickets from the head lunch lady but she never saw Daryl Dixon there. Thinking about it, she didn't recall ever seeing him in the ticket line on Monday mornings.
Frowning, Moira looked down at the little sheet of blue recatangular tickets in her hand. She had yet to get her own lunch, as she'd been busy observing the quiet boy at the end of the bench, and the perferated lines between the five tickets were unbroken. With a final look at the frowning boy, Moira stood and walked towards the lunch line.
From the corner of his eye Daryl saw someone pass him by. As the figure moved swiftly by, a flutter of movement caught his eye and he looked up. Sitting innocently on the table near his elbow was a small sheet of blue paper. Slowly, Daryl reached over and plucked it from the ugly brown table, turning it over to see the front. He blinked at the full, unused sheet of lunch tickets. Then he looked over his shoulder at the lunch line, brows furrowed.
He saw a girl in his class, Moira Something-or-other, talking to the head lunch lady. The old woman, with debateably white-purple hair handed her a small slip of paper. Daryl had never had a school lunch before, as no one had money for him to buy and tickets and he was too prideful, even at his tender young age, to ask the lunch lady for a borrowed ticket. Besides, he knew even if he did borrow a ticket his family would never pay it back. Regardless, Daryl could still recognize the pink slip saying money was owed for a lunch ticket.
Daryl watched Moira pocket the pink slip before accepting a tray of mushy macaroni and cheese from another lunch lady. As she moved down the line towards the cooler full of miniature milk cartons, Moira looked over her shoulder. Across the sea of children, Daryl caught her eye. She stood there for a moment, staring back at him before she casually turned back to the lunch line and told the lunch lady her preference of milk; regular or chocolate.
For a long time Daryl watched her. She took the long way back to her seat, avoiding walking by him, and sat back in her seat at the other end of their table. Moira sat down and began eating while laughing and talking to the girl across from her. For a moment, Daryl looked down at the lunch tickets in his hand. His stomach gave a loud grumble to assert its opinion on the matter. After a final long look at Moira, Daryl stood up from the table.
For the rest of the week, Daryl ate.
He could find a way to repay Moira later.
A/N: I may or may not write another vignette or two to go with this. I see Daryl as being pretty prideful and the type who wouldn't want any kind of charity from anyone so I figure that since he used Moira's lunch tickets, he'd feel obligated to repay her in some way. We shall see.