Author's Note
I do not own the Hunger Games.
CHAPTER WARNING: Transphobia and bullying.
'Freak.'
The word had been painted across her desk in large, bold, red letters. Delta traced a finger across them.
Freak.
That was her.
Because she was a girl, not a boy like they wanted her to be.
"Dashell, are you going to sit down?"
"But Miss-"
"Dashell. Sit."
Delta sat.
At lunchbreak a few of the boys cornered her. They pushed her down in the mud, which made her cry, and then threatened to cut her hair, which only made her cry harder, because her hair was the only thing beautiful about her.
"Why can't you just be normal you little freak?"
"My mummy says there's nothing wrong with me."
"Well, guess what? You're mummy's a freak just like you!"
"She is not!"
"My dad says your mum's a freak that dates other women," said one of the bigger boys.
"Is that true? Your mom's a dyke?"
"I bet she fucks that freak Peacekeeper."
"That's not true," Delta tried to say, but her voice was wavering.
It wasn't true!
"Oh my god. You're such a little freak Dashell."
One of the bigger boys, Albert, stepped forwards and shoved her back a step. His brother, Edgar, pushed her again from the left, and she fell again.
"Why can't you just be normal?"
"Yeah, just be normal!"
One of the other boys kicked her. Delta struggled to get to her feet, but a blonde from the year above pushed her down again.
"I bet you go home and play with dolls like a little girl!"
"I am a girl!"
"Little freak!"
"Weirdo!"
"Creep!"
"It's not true," she tried to say, "it's not true."
"Freak!"
"Why don't you fight back?"
"Why don't you leave me alone!" she screamed back, struggling to her feet and bolting across the playground. She half-expected them to follow, but they didn't.
Delta shrunk down against the wall and pulled her knees up to her chest. Maybe it would be best if she did just get some new clothes and a haircut.
They hated her as a girl.
A shadow fell across her.
"What now?"
"You shouldn't cry," said a voice. "You're giving them what they want."
Delta sniffled and lifted her head. It was one of the girls from a couple of years above her.
"What?"
"They want to make you cry. You shouldn't give them what they want."
Delta dragged a hand across her eyes. "I just want them to leave me alone."
"But if you keep crying and getting upset, they'll keep coming back."
"But it's not fair!"
The girl shrugged. "Life's not fair!"
She wasn't much taller than Delta herself, she judged, with dark bobbed hair and large dark eyes.
"I'm not a freak."
"Of course you're not. It's no one else's business who you are."
"Then why are they mea to me?"
"Because they think it's their business."
Delta buried her face in her knees. "It's not fair."
"Life's not fair," the girl said again. "But you still shouldn't give them what they want. They'll give up eventually."
Delta spent the rest of the day trying not to cry and remembering what the girl had said.
Don't give them what they want. She traced the letters on her desk with one finger and told herself not to cry. She wasn't a freak. She wasn't. She knew, and if they didn't, maybe the older girl was right. It was no one else's business who or what she was.
She spotted the older girl on her way home and fashed ahead to join her. "Hi!"
"Oh. It's you."
"I'm Delta."
The girl gave her a slight frown. "Vidhut."
"Like the inventor? Cool!"
"She invented floating drone mines to kill hundrds. Less cool"
"That can't be right. I don't think she made weapons."
"Not many people do."
"Oh."
Had she insulted her? She hadn't started cursing or calling her nmes at least.
"Well, it's still a pretty name. Do you play Sparkshot?"
"Haven't got time for that."
"But it's fun! Everyone should play Sparkshot!"
"No thank you. I have work to do."
"Like homework?"
Delta hoped she didn't have her teacher when she was older.
"No; like get money work."
"Oh. But you can't do that all the time!"
"No. I need to eat and sleep and go to school as well." She stopped at the turn. "This is my street."
"I'm at the next one. You want to walk together tomorrow?"
Vidhut seemed to hesitate as though considering. "Sure. Why not? Seven thirty, don't be late."
"See you tomorrow!" Delta called as she set off down her street.
Her house was open when she got there and her mummy in the kitchen, preparing dinner.
"There's my- Oh, what in Panem have you been doing? You're covered in dirt!"
"I-" Delta started, and then stopped. "I fell over."
"Did you hurt yourself?"
"No mummy."
"Well, let's get you out of those dirty things so you're not getting mud everywhere. How was school?"
"It was… good."
"Did anything happen today?"
Delta thought of the boys, the word 'freak' written on her desk, how they had even called her mummy a freak.
"I think I made a new friend."