-Eleven-
It was a mild Friday evening. Moxie walked next to Grandma to the old shabby excuse for an apartment closer to the city – if you would call it a city – and stayed close to her, holding her hand. "Can't I just stay with you?" she asked her grandma quietly, pulling on her hand a little bit. "Please? Just for one week?"
"No," Grandma said right away, her voice sounding tired. "I work all day anyways so you'd just be alone."
Moxie frowned a little bit as Grandma pulled on her a little bit to keep her moving. Grandma was pretty strong for her age but more than that, Moxie could see how tired she was so the eleven-year-old obediently caught up to her and continued walking. Maybe I could have friends if I didn't spend my whole weekends here, she thought to herself quietly, but she would never say that out loud. She could see by the way Grandma's face was tense, the way her lips twitched slightly towards a downward position, and how her shoulders hunched over, that she wasn't in the mood to hear it. And she didn't want to start anything with her primary guardian so she just kept walking. She always had a good time once she got there. She had to remember that. She used to love coming over here when she was a kid! She still would love it.
They got to the front door of the small apartment and Grandma took Moxie's bag off of her shoulder and held it over to her. "Here's all your stuff."
"Thanks," Moxie said quietly.
"Didn't forget anything?" Grandma was losing patience with coming back – there was a time when Moxie did it on purpose and she had to have known it. But when she saw how upset it made Grandma, she stopped that and really tried to remember everything she needed.
"Yes, Grandma." It wasn't the first time she asked.
Grandma reached over to knock on the door. Moxie wanted to turn and bolt, but she didn't. She was lucky that her Mom was part of her life in any capacity and she was lucky that Grandma was willing to be her guardian so she didn't have to be an orphan.
The woman that resembled her daughter opened the door and a smile was forced across her face. Moxie could tell when it was forced. And she forced a smile of her own.
She wasn't one to question those in authority, but she just had to wonder sometimes why they did this. Moxie didn't like it, Misty didn't like it, and it was clear both ways. Grandma was the one that pushed it. Because she wants weekends without me in the house.
No no, that was a silly thought. Even if it was true, Grandma deserved some peace and quiet with how hard she worked to give Moxie a happy childhood. Just… Why couldn't Moxie just try to find someone to go on the trails with for the weekend instead of having to come here?
"There's my girl!" Mom said with a grin. "Are you ready for another great Moxie and Mommy weekend?"
She always asked this question. And over time, the response had gotten less and less enthusiastic. But Moxie knew that she had good intentions and so she really did her best to force her own smile to look more real and gave a salute. "Always ready," she said, but she didn't really mean it.
"Have everything?" Grandma asked again.
"Yes," said Moxie, her annoyance coming through for a second, but when she saw the look in Grandma's eyes she quickly pushed it back down because she hated to make things more stressful for her. "I got it."
"Alright," said Grandma, barely looking at Misty and just nodding to them. "I'll be back on Sunday at 3."
Sunday at 3 couldn't come fast enough.
"Okay Grandma." Moxie cooperated and gave her guardian a last hug. And when Grandma hugged her real tight and spun her around, Moxie giggled and stayed close for Grandma's kisses on the top of her head, buried in her brown hair.
"Good girl. I love you," said Grandma, holding Moxie's cheeks for a few seconds.
"I love you too, Grandma," Moxie said. And when Grandma waved to Misty and left, that very real smile slowly faded off of Moxie's face as the door was closed behind her.
"You wanna get your stuff unpacked?" asked Misty before she gaped a little bit and took one of Moxie's hands. "Oh my, you need a fresh coat of polish – stat! And of course your Mommy braids. But only if you do mine. Alright?" Her smile was a little more real and Moxie was able to relax a little bit. Those were the things they always did together from the time Moxie was just a little kid. She always liked being pampered by her mother like this.
"Yes ma'am," Moxie said, going to take her bag of things to the little closet-sized bedroom area she would share with Misty for the night. She barely got to even get anything out before she heard Misty clamoring around in the living room and took a deep breath.
Things were just… Different now. She was just getting a little old for these things. They weren't things she was so into anymore like she used to. Now she was starting to learn more about the different kinds of trees and wildlife that lived around them, and she wanted to go out on the trails and watch for birds, or try to identify the oaks – and lately she'd even been learning how to climb them!
But… This was okay too…
"Moxie! Let's go, I've been heating up the water all morning for you!" called Mom. It was just leftover water from a bath, but in a District where it was so hard to come across resources, it was a splurge to use even a little bit for something like this.
"Coming…" said Moxie, not sure what this feeling was inside. She knew that everyone would be looking at her nails being clipped and painted nicely, and would admire the great things Mom did with her hair, but it still just felt… Wrong, in a way. She wasn't even sure why that was. Maybe because everyone at her school was so… Well, they weren't well-groomed. It just made her stick out in a way that was a little uncomfortable.
"I saved up to get you a new color Moxie!" said Mom and Moxie cringed a little bit in the room. She felt so bad that she would do that. A bottle of nail polish was a luxury and Mom now had seven different colors of it in the house. "It's a special day. You wanna be pretty in blue?"
Blue?! Moxie liked blue. Mom must have known it was her favorite color now. That fact made her smile – a real smile – and she quickly hurried into the living room.
"I thought that might get you here," Mom said, her feet already in the tub as she was shaking the small bottle. "It has glitter in it too."
Moxie took the bottle from her, shaking it a little bit and then pulling out the little brush to look at it. Wow… That sure was… Pretty. Moxie felt a weird swirl of emotions – grateful, happy, guilty, sad… She didn't know why it was. But she pushed it aside because she knew that this was what made Misty happy. "Thank you so much, Misty," she said right away as she turned towards her and gave another smile. It was… Real? Fake? She didn't know. It made Misty smile back at her though so that felt better than anything.
"I know that sometimes things are a little bit weird and rough. But I'm still thinking about you all the time." Misty smiled and patted Moxie's cheek a little bit. "And I'm glad you're here for the weekend."
Hearing her say that made Moxie blink back some tears, swallowing a lump in her throat. She felt terrible for ever wondering why she couldn't be somewhere else for the weekend. It was because her Mom did love her that she was here. Dad gave up but Mom always stayed here and wanted to see her. How could she think that she'd rather be out in nature, alone? She should be here.
She knew she would enjoy it once she got here. She pushed down all of the weird negative feelings that made her chest heavy and found it in her to give her Mom a smile back. Moxie was all she had.
"Yeah…" she said, finally putting her feet into the warm tub, and sighing a little bit at how nice the feeling was. Who cared what other people at school would think anyways? Who cared about… Old trees? Moxie was going to be happy to come into school with her hair done nicely and her blue glittery polish on her nails, a gift from her Mom.
"I'm glad too."
~.~.
-Twelve-
"The Twenty-Seventh Games." The schoolteacher was sitting up on his desk, closing his eyes for a moment when he pressed play on the screen once more. They had left off a few days into the Arena. Moxie was bored in class and mostly just trying to get someone to pay attention to her. The classroom normally had at least 6 kids in it that were Moxie's age, but today the number was cut in half. This happened sometimes when they were called to pick up a shift - more and more often the older they got – or if something particularly gruesome was going to happen. Moxie didn't like to watch, but Grandma made her go to school.
"If you remember, the District Seven tributes were Colton Sawyer, who is with the boy from 12, and Melanie Shepherd, who died in the bloodbath of the Arena themed like a concert hall. We will now resume watching."
"I know what happens next," whispered the girl next to her and then Moxie looked at the screen and gasped a little bit at the sight in front of her.
That boy was wearing a dress!
She thought that she was going to witness something terrifying that made her cover her eyes and have nightmares, not… This.
The boy wore a dress.
It was beautiful.
"Belle." Moxie looked up as the person on the screen spoke. "My name is Belle."
"Belle?" Moxie asked quietly, looking at her classmates for a moment with her mouth open a little bit at the moment – at the name and at the dress and at the scars that littered that body in front of her eyes.
"I am a woman and my name is Belle. This is who I am."
"What?" asked Moxie out loud, looking around the room and everyone who was watching didn't even look surprised. "Wait, what's happening?" she asked right away as Colton- Belle's?- ally let him – her? do a spin in the gown.
This is who I am.
The screen paused.
"Moxie, raise your hand if you have something to say."
"Sorry," said Moxie, but she was just so… Confused as she stared at the paused screen. "Mr. T, I'm just confused," she said finally. "That person just said his name is Belle and that he – she? – is a woman?"
"Oh Mox," said the girl next to her with a chuckle, but Moxie was just… Confused.
"Colton is what's called transgender," said their teacher. "It's when someone wants to change their gender because they don't feel like they fit in with their gender assigned at birth."
"Woah," said Moxie, because that was a whole new and slightly silly set of terms to use. Assigned at birth? Were they robots or something? It was so clinical. And yet… "That's a thing?"
"To some people," said their teacher. "And Colton is one of them."
"She just said her name is Belle now," said Moxie as she looked at the person she'd known as Colton before. "Why didn't we learn this before now?"
"The curriculum goes by reaped names," said their teacher. "Now no more questions."
But Moxie had so many questions. But she obediently shut her mouth to watch the rest of the scene in front of them. The way Belle's eyes sparkled with an understanding and a joy that wasn't there before. Moxie wanted to say she couldn't imagine what it was like to feel so out of touch with oneself, but… She could imagine what that must feel like…
Moxie suddenly gasped in horror – the only one to gasp out loud – when the end of the slick silver weapon presented itself out the front of Belle's chest and she dropped slowly to the ground. That look of shock was frozen onto her face.
"No," Moxie said – she was always a crier when they were forced to watch Games footage, but this was different. This… This broke something deep within her. "That's not fair."
"What did I say about talking out of turn Moxie?"
"I'm sorry," Moxie said quietly, just putting her head down as the cannon sounded on the screen. But when she closed her eyes she could see the scene again. She could see the joy and the smile, she could see the weapon, covered in blood on its way out of her from her own ally. That boy from 12. He was freakin' crazy. She felt the tears sting her eyes and she didn't know why this one broke her so much. She could hear other sounds on the screen, she could hear the sounds of her classmates whispering to each other, but she couldn't make herself lift her head for once.
Seeing that joy on someone else just made Moxie realize how unhappy she was. Misty and Grandma just told her that puberty can be difficult, but it was never puberty. She didn't even know how to explain that until now. And just when she got to witness a beautiful moment of someone that finally got to be her real self, it was stolen away by cruelty, and violence. And it made her realize that she's never known that feeling before – because her body was freakin' horrifying right now and she didn't know how to stop it. And this just made her wonder why. Surely this wasn't normal to feel, this level of hatred to things that changed her body and made her look how she did now…
Mom said it was just because she was growing, and awkward, and when creepy people made weird comments, but… It was deeper than that. And Moxie had been pushing it away, but watching Belle just then made her unable to push it away for any longer.
There was something different about her than all those other kids just going through puberty.
There was something different about her than those people that were comfortable with how their bodies were shaped.
I hate my body.
I hate myself.
I hate Moxie.
Surely Belle hated Colton, too. It was a life she didn't want to live.
Moxie Tanzer was a master of walking in other peoples' shoes.
But stepping into Belle's shoes, thinking about her experience…
This time, the pair felt more like his own.
Mr. T put a box of tissues on Moxie's desk which she – he? – took and used to pat her – his? – eyes. The seconds seemed to meld together and yet fly by to the end of class for the day, as many of them were going to pick up a late afternoon shift to get what they could. Soon, Moxie would be part of that group, but not today.
She – he? – didn't look at anyone as she – he? – left the classroom, silently dropping a pile of tissues in the trash can.
Moxie – who? – didn't know where to go or what to do, and found himself – herself? – going towards Aunt Florrie's house. Moxie knew he – she? – would find Aunt Florrie there watching her nine-year-old daughter. Only one more year before Autumn could be left alone and Florrie would go back to working full-time. Moxie – Mox? – wasn't sure what he – she? - was going to do when she was back to working.
Whoever it was that was floating through space and time in this body knocked on the door, and it wasn't long before Aunt Florrie answered. Aunt Florrie wasn't related to anyone – she was one of Dad's exes. He introduced her to Mox when he was still halfway making an effort, and when she broke up with him, she kept seeing Mox anyways and even when Dad was gone, she was here. Mox just wasn't right. Moxie was worse right now.
"Moxie!"
"Please," said the… Person, putting up his – her? - hand to stop her from saying more. "I…" He - er… uh…- sniffled. "I need to talk to you."
"Oh no," said Aunt Florrie, stepping aside to let the person in and went over to go send Autumn to play in her room. Autumn didn't fret about this for the sake of wordcount and went to her room with a few homemade dollies while Aunt Florrie sat down with… Whoever this was. "Are you alright? What happened?"
Mox sniffled and wiped his – her? – why did it have to be her? Why couldn't it just be his? – eyes. "Aunt Florrie… We watched the twenty-seventh Games today," h-he… started, tearing up again and just not even sure how to explain this and wishing that it wasn't happening. "W-With the girl."
"What?" Florrie asked, brining Mox a glass of water. "What happened?"
"The girl," said Mox, swallowing some water and some tears with it. "Belle."
"Belle?" she asked, thinking back. "I don't watch Games for fun or play stupid Games trivia board games because I'm not a sadistic fuck, spit it out."
"The transgender one."
"Oh."
It wasn't a good oh. Mox knew that right away. So she sank away. "Never mind."
"Why do you bring this up, honey?" Florrie asked, looking at her for a moment. "I know it's pretty unusual."
"You're going to hate me," said Mox, and she knew it.
"Oh no no no," said Florrie right away. "No, honey, I could never hate you." She went over to kneel by Moxie and dry her tears. "I love you."
Moxie could see in her teary eyes that she really meant it, and that made her start crying more. "I know," she said quietly. "I know." Aunt Florrie just patted her cheeks a few times with a tissue and Mox picked up the water glass. Part of her, deep inside, was screaming to just stop and not say anything else. But if not Aunt Florrie, who else was she – he? – even going to tell? "I-I just…" Mox swallowed a lump in his – her? – throat as the tears kept coming. "I just could relate to her," he – she? – he? – choked out quietly, sniffing again. "I feel so wrong," she – he? – said, voice growing louder. "I thought maybe I might be transgender too."
"Oh." Not a good oh. But quickly followed by the gentle touch of a tissue to the cheeks despite how it just made Mox cry harder. "You think… You are… A… Boy?" she asked, and she spoke like she was choking a little bit which just made Mox realize he'd made a monumental mistake.
"Yes," he finally choked out. "Why would it be so bad if I was?"
"It's not, it's not," she said quickly, but she just nervously looked around the room with tears on her face. "You know I will always love you and support you," she said and leaned over to kiss his forehead.
"I know." But he was wishing for so much more from her right now than just this.
"Have you talked about this with your family?" she asked finally. "Does your mother know?"
"No," said Mox quickly. "I came here first."
"Well…" she sighed a little bit. "I don't want to get in the middle of all this with your Mom and Grandma. So you have to tell them about this, okay? If you don't, I will. They'll be able to help you."
The way she said that put him off. What was there to be helped with? Help him… Maybe get a new wardrobe to fit in? Get a haircut maybe? He would love help with that – just to see if maybe… It helped. Right now he felt like it really would. And his Grandma and Mom just wanted to see him happy, right? So… What was the worst that could happen? He could wear the clothes he had and go to work until they could afford to change it out. Use a utility knife to chop off his hair like that one boy did at school. That was all, it was possible, right?
Why didn't her voice sound helpful then?
"I'll take you home," she said and took a deep breath. "But Autumn has to come so you need to get it together."
"I'll walk myself," he said finally, putting up a hand to stop her. He was 12 now and didn't need someone holding his hand everywhere he went. And… For once… He just wanted to be alone right now. He used to stick to Aunt Florrie like glue but this… This changed things somehow. Why couldn't you just be there for me?! You said you were going to support me! She wanted to scream, but confrontation scared her – frick, him! Maybe? – and she would rather just be alone than go through that right now.
Was being transgender really worth this?
He just wanted to find himself and this was the only thing that made him feel remotely close to it.
The only thing that made him even able to think about the joy on Belle's face wearing that gown. The thought of being a man just felt… Right, in a way that nothing else had made him feel before.
Aunt Florrie tried to protest but Mox just coldly put up a hand to wave, avoiding her eyes, and turned around to walk out of the little hut, her threat living in his head.
"If you don't, I will."
He had a feeling things were never going to be the same again.
~.~.
-Thirteen-
Things were only getting worse.
Their school class was getting smaller and smaller as the months went on. The ones that remained barely even looked at him anymore. Not since the incident with Belle.
And yet, Grandma still insisted he attend class. He was not one to be disobedient, so here he was, packing up the single notebook he had copied some homework problems into to work on that weekend. A perfectly-polished dark navy nail ran across the page. It made Misty happy when he painted his nails with her still. She bought it special. He couldn't say no.
His hair which was tucked up for school was let down when he approached Misty's apartment – he now walked there by himself after school. The new deal was that he only had to do Friday night to Saturday afternoon. It was only a little less time but Grandma couldn't stand to hear him begging and crying any longer. He was thankful to her for that.
She wasn't waiting for him when he got there, which was usually 50/50 nowadays. So he just let himself in the apartment with the spare key he had and when he saw the state of the room he dropped the key with a small gasp.
"Oh there you are. Yes, this is her, this is my daughter."
Mox waved the smoke out of his nose and coughed a little bit at the smell of incense in the room.
"Misty, wh-what's going on?" he asked when he saw the wrinkly older man that was sitting on the floor of her small living area, surrounded by candles that were all lit indoors! Candles?! They smelled so strong!
"Why won't you call me Mom?" she asked, shaking her head as she took Mox's hand and pulled him inside the whole way. "She's very depressed. She's sick in the head."
"Hm. What is your name, child?"
"I-I'm Mox," he said, and when Misty let out a small sound, he looked at her. Not a good sound. He expected this much – she had laughed when he told her and hadn't switched yet – things just… Needed a little bit of time.
"You see? My little girl is just so lost." Misty pulled Mox a little bit to sit next to her. "Puberty's really taken a toll on her and trying to find where she belongs and being so depressed has made her delusional."
"I see," said the old man.
"What-"
"Sh," said Misty, covering his mouth with her hand. "This is the best witch doctor around and he's going to make you better so we can be Mommy and Moxie again. Just like we used to be. Then you'll be my happy little girl again. Don't you want to be happy again, Moxie?"
"Yes," said Moxie quietly, putting down his – her? – head a little bit. Mox was never happy anymore. And yeah, all that he – she? – truly wanted was to just be happy.
"Me too, baby, me too," said Misty, going to put the Mommy braids into her hair while the witch doctor looked at her. "That's why I paid for the best in the District to heal you."
Paid. If this was the best in the District, perhaps it would work. Mom would be so upset to have wasted so much money on this for Mox to not even try. So he – she? – would.
"You have a dark spirit within you," said the witch doctor, and Moxie stared at him for a moment, the smells of incense and candles overwhelming her nose and the eyes of the man staring straight through her while Mom was pulling on her hair. "A dark presence indeed. The ancients have spoken to me in a dream about this spirit that I sense and given me the remedy." He took a smoking bowl and held it in front of Mox's nose. Mom coughed and leaned back. Mox coughed a little bit but held it back for her sake. The man started mumbling words under his breath that Mox couldn't understand – and that scared them a little bit.
The words grew and grew into a crescendo.
The smoke filled her lungs.
Mom tugged on her hair.
The man was yelling in her face.
Staring in her eyes.
He wouldn't stop yelling.
Mom moved back.
She was all alone.
Her hair was pulled so tight. He was yelling so loud. The smoke filled her lungs and she felt… Dirty. But here he was, still yelling. Still trying.
Trying so hard to get Moxie back.
"BEGONE, SPIRIT! LEAVE THIS CHILD!" he yelled. She wanted the evil to be gone. Her eyes filled up with tears – tears of fear, of sadness, of evil – and she let out a little sob.
"BEGONE!"
He screamed so close to her face it scared her, it made her cry even more. The man started yelling once more in gibberish she didn't understand, yelling right in her face.
He was trying to help her. They were all trying to help her.
Why did it not feel like help?
She wanted to make them all happy.
She wanted to make it stop.
She wasn't sure which she wanted more, but either way she was able to make herself stop crying. She took a deep breath, swallowed down her tears, and forced a strong face. She had gotten good at that recently.
"Moxie? Is that you?" asked Misty, and the yelling stopped. The smoke was pulled away from her face. Moxie just collapsed a little bit, so glad that was all over. She didn't want to go through it again. She was done. No more. Please. But if she begged, he would think a spirit was talking.
Mox didn't feel any different.
But for them, she would at least… Try.
So she just looked at the face she thought she knew and forced a small smile.
"Yes Mom. It's me.
Moxie."
~.~.
-Fourteen-
This job was perfect.
The uniforms were drab but they were gender neutral. They didn't fit right so it was baggy in all the right places. And best of all, he was actually starting to see some muscle since he started.
Every day was a new day. A new opportunity to express himself. And it got him far, far away from home.
The route provided him a bike to get there with, and he had a dolly of his very own to stack all the boxes onto. Someday maybe he could be one of the guys that gets to drive a truck full of packages! Until then, he would keep working really hard.
Today he had his bag on his shoulder full of letters, and the dolly stacked high with packages. He was so afraid he was going to get lost the first time he came into this busier part of the District, but now he was able to learn the streets and how to maneuver around them.
He clocked in with his card and smiled when he saw the people buzzing around the area. "Good morning, hello, good to see you," he said as he smiled at people he passed. Some were older – some close to Grandma's age – and some were younger, but all of them had lives outside of work that were pretty tough and he just wanted to keep being nice to them. He knew right away where to find the little white labels with markers next to them – usually for labelling boxes or covering bad shipping labels, but the nice lady behind the counter let him take one each day.
Yesterday wasn't it. Guess that he wasn't a Timothy. But today was a new day, another opportunity, and a new name.
He thought about it, tapping his chin. There were a lot of cool names he could try. He just saw a big sycamore tree – that would be a cool name, but he felt like that was copyrighted – so he just tried another name from the list of common baby names he liked to read through at the library when nobody was watching.
Caleb? No, Caleb was a little bitch name.
James? No, not James. Sounded like someone that supported genocide.
Noah? Hm… Maybe he was Noah. Maybe Noah was his name. It was worth a try!
So he wrote the letters in big print and stuck the tag on his chest. Most people had nametags that were stitched in with their names that they Velcroed onto their shirt, but when each day was the chance to try a new identity, there wasn't one there for him. But someday! Someday he would find the name that worked for him and he would be able to wear it on his shirt.
Was it going to be Noah? Ooo, maybe!
Noah made sure the nametag was stuck on well and then turned around to smile at people passing by. "Hi. Good morning. Hey-" he said before he let out a small yell and hit the ground after tripping on something that made a big metallic crash and made a bunch of people put things down to look over at him. "Oh. Sorry." He set the bucket back up with a nervous chuckle.
"Careful where you go, Bucket boy," said a woman, and that got a laugh from the room – including the boy.
"Sorry, I wasn't even paying attention. Guess I am the bucket boy." Bucket…
"Alright, Mr. Bucket, find your dolly," said his supervisor, and he just laughed a little bit.
Mr. Bucket… Someone just gave him a nickname. And it didn't have anything to do with… girl! In fact, it sounded kinda… Masculine.
"That's me," he said as he found his employee ID number and sure enough his dolly was waiting for him. "…Bucket." Would people actually call him that instead of Mox!? Please.
He went over to the conveyor belt he was assigned with his dolly, the smile still spreading his cheeks tightly as he lifted the packages off the belt for his doghouse for the day. It was the same route he'd been doing all week and he hoped that soon he would have a permanent route so he could see the same people every day! He got the last few small packages in his bag that wouldn't balance on the top of the pile and checked one more run-through of the belt. Someday he would get so fast at this, but for now he was learning each day.
"You got the same route?" asked the girl beside him close to his age. "Lucky. Mine keeps changing."
"Oh, I'm sorry to hear that," said Noah, looking over at her. "Someday it'll become stable, the longer we work here and the harder we work!"
"Oh I sure hope so… Noah."
Who? Oh. Me. Right. "Yeah!" he said. "Do I look like a Noah?"
"I…" the girl took the question seriously for a moment. "No."
"Yeah," he sighed. "That's what I thought. Well, do I look like a Bucket?" he asked as a joke with a chuckle.
"Oh, definitely," she said with a laugh, and making her smile made him happy. He liked to help people and make their days better, which was why he really liked this job!
"Have a good one," he said as he used a foot to put up the dolly and then moved to get his scanner and log in before he went out the bigger set of back doors.
The longer he did this route, the easier he was able to decide the order – and find the places that got packages, most of them little stores. Those were the best, the people were always so nice! He wanted to take his time and live this job forever, but he knew that he couldn't. Then people wouldn't get their packages in a timely manner! So he made sure to move as efficiently as possible. His mail was organized accordingly, making it easy for him to leaf through to put them in the right mailbox. Then, he would walk to the door to deliver the packages. Sometimes he had to get a signature form the owner – and sometimes they were expecting the package and stood in the doorway – and he could tell them to have a good day. And sometimes, they told him to have a good day too, and if he was really lucky they would make his day by calling him by his name!
Well, whatever name he was using. He didn't know yet what his name really was!
He got lost in the joy of doing his job – working alone, without anyone over his shoulder, doing good for people – and building some muscle in the process! And best of all, it put him a fair distance away from Misty and Grandma and his small community off in the rural areas.
He got to one little shop and opened the mailbox, making sure the suite number matched with the mailbox as he put the letters in the mailbox and closed it.
"Hey! Timothy!"
Noah looked up when he heard the voice calling to him. The girl was standing in the doorway when he looked up and she waved as she used her cane to carefully step out of the doorway and walk over to him. Tim- er no, Noah – right? Noah – smiled when she came over. He was more than patient despite having other places to be – everyone always said his customer service was excellent and he wasn't like other delivery people that were short and rude. He wore that badge with pride! "Hi there Sabine." He remembered her name – he remembered everyone's names when they introduced themselves so he could give them the best service possible!
"Hi- hey!" she said, putting out one of her arms to point as half of her face went into a pout. "Your nametag said Timothy yesterday!"
"Oh yeah, it was," said Noah. "You remembered my name. I just happened to change it. I didn't feel very much like a Timothy. Today I'm going to see if my name is Noah."
"Oh I don't like Noah," she said right away.
"Oh." He shook his head. "I don't either then." He ripped off the nametag and crumbled it up in his hand. "Noah? More like No."
Sabine laughed as well and grinned. "Well what do I call you then?"
"Hm…" He thought about it for a moment. "Well I got a new nickname today. So that'll work until I find my real name."
"And what's that?" she asked.
"Bucket. Well, it started as Mr. Bucket, but I'll just take it as Bucket."
"Bucket?" She gave him a bit of a look, narrowing her eyes slowly.
"It's not perfect, but it'll work in the meantime," Bucket said with a smile at her. "Unless you'd rather it be Noah."
"Ew, no!" She laughed and he smiled at her as he took the bundle out of his bag that was tied up with twine.
"Here's your mail, Miss."
"Ew, don't call me Miss either," she said right away, making that weird face again. "Sabine."
"Alright Sabine," said Bucket with a smile. "Sure." He loved his job. It let him connect with so many people. "Anything else I can do ya for?"
"No, thanks," she said, before she tapped her cane a little bit. "Well, yes," she said, and then thrust something out towards him. "I made this for your bag! Please take it! Thank you for delivering the mail!"
Bucket blinked, and then looked at the thing she'd held out to him. He had to resist cringing because it was pink. Not that he didn't like pink, of course, it was just… He was pretty tired of seeing it so much from Misty. She gave him pink things any opportunity she could. It was insulting.
But this wasn't Misty. This was a customer! And she didn't have to do that for him at all and he was flattered and everything it was just-
"That's the transgender pride flag," she told him. "It was designed in the before times by a woman called Monica Helms. Amazing how some things really did manage to survive the Dark Days. The history of it from then is incredible, and resilient that we still use the same symbol today."
Bucket's mouth dropped open a little bit. "I-I-It… There's a flag for that?" he asked quietly as he stared at it for an extra moment.
"Yes! I read about it!" said Sabine. "Did you not know about it?"
"No," Bucket said with a small chuckle. "I'm from one of the camps out in the middle of nowhere, so we don't have a lot of resources or anything."
"Oh. Well, maybe I can have Daddy buy the book so then you can read it!"
"Oh," Bucket said. "I-I don't know if I should be carrying that around. My camp is a little more, uh, conservative."
"That's just a word people use to be jerks to other people," Sabine said, and Bucket gasped hearing her say that, which made her pout deepen. "Well it's true!"
"I mean…" Bucket said. Those people they weren't jerks to people… They were his family, classmates, friends… People he grew up knowing. "It's a work in progress."
"That just means that they're not even trying."
"Maybe-" Bucket said, but he didn't believe that at all. "Maybe not. Either way. It's where I am right now. It'll get better."
"I mean I hope so," she said bluntly but it was clear she didn't buy it. And he knew it, and she knew it.
"Well truly Sabine, thank you," he said, not wanting to upset her as he looked at the block of colors he was holding in his hands and for once he felt… Happy. And well… Accepted. That was why he loved doing this job. And hoped to do it forever. The people on his routes were practically his family. More than some of the folks back home at this point, even…
"This is the best present I've ever gotten."
~.~.
-Fifteen-
Bucket's – gah, guess he wasn't meant to be Steve after all - wide eyes watched the printer spit out the paper. That was his paper! He could barely contain the excitement as the bored-looking government clerk went over to pick it up. Ooooh, gimme gimme gimme! He wanted it now, it was so hard to wait. But of course the clerk had to look at it carefully first.
"Please check the spelling to ensure that it is correct."
Bucket leaned over the counter to look. He held his breath for a moment but sure enough there it was. An ID number he had no idea how to decipher, and next to it, his name.
Bucket Tanzer.
He couldn't help but smile. "That's right."
Sure, he would change it to his real name… Once he found it. He hadn't found it yet, but maybe he was getting close. For now, this would do. Because next to the changed name was the barcode that had an M somewhere in the letters instead of an F! He was officially going to stand on the right side for the reaping – well, the men stood on the left, but right as in correct! He was so excited. He thought he could wait it out, but after doing his fifteen reaping with the girls, he knew he couldn't take it anymore.
There was such a euphoric sense of joy that came with having this paper and yet… There was a pang of guilt as well. Fear. But nobody was gonna know. He just disappeared right in the crowds, Grandma didn't even wait for him anymore. Who was gonna know? Nobody. That was why he was gonna do it!
So… Why did it feel like this?
The clerk's voice snapped him out of his thoughts. "It's been changed in the system. But hold onto that paper just in case, and present it to the clerks that check you into the reaping if they give you an issue. Have a good evening."
He folded up the paper quickly and tucked it in his bag. "Hey, thanks, you too." Bucket put up a hand to wave. "Oh, and a good weekend too." He would be coming back to work tomorrow to put in some more hours, so he didn't really have weekends anymore.
And he loved it!
Why would he want to be back home anyways? People there didn't understand him, much less accept him. On his routes, he always saw people that had a smile for him, and he always smiled back. On his routes, he had people he would consider his… Well, his friends. Why wouldn't he want to go out and see them and deliver their mail on a Saturday morning? It was the best time to be out! And on top of all that, it eased the workload for Grandma, so she could stay home and get some rest, which always put her in a better mood. It was just a win for everyone.
The delivery drivers were just finishing closing the warehouse when Bucket got back – a quick stop from the clerk's office in the urban area just to drop off some things.
"Oh hey, see ya Bucket." One of them gave him a smile and he couldn't help but grin back. But he couldn't linger too long and make closing take longer, so he just checked for his things.
"Bye!" He had a smile for them as he made sure he had his keys and then tucked his bag away with the rest of his things. Since he put the patch on, he had been leaving it here for the nights, and nobody questioned it. It wasn't that he thought his family members would give him a problem about it, it was just… Well, he just didn't want to explain it to them and see them react – er, he was just tired, er, something, he didn't know. He just knew that they all meant well. They all meant well. They just didn't fully get it. Time would help. Time… Would help…
It had been three years. Time wasn't helping anyone. Bu-but Bucket could be patient. Maybe three was the magic number – or four, or five! He just had to keep being kind and reminding them that he was still there, he was still family. It had been getting a little better with Aunt Florrie and her wife Kessie, right? So he had to just keep on killing them with kindness, and being patient for them. That would be the answer.
He was sweaty and ready for a good shower. He used to stop in the bathroom to wash off the beard he drew on with a brow pen he bought, but since he accidentally forgot one day, he just pledged to keep wearing it home. It made him look more like he felt, and washing it off to go home always made him so upset. But Grandma didn't even mind, and Aunt Florrie tried to be supportive, so he just kept wearing it. He would shower it off as soon as he got home anyways.
Ugh, frick, he wasn't going home today. He was going to freakin' Misty's. Ughhhhh. He looked around, hopeful there was a pond he could wash his face in, but he couldn't be so lucky.
Misty was… The, uh… Definitely the toughest nut to crack when it came to this. They didn't see eye-to-eye. And yet, he was still going to her house. He knew if he didn't show, she would call authorities – she had a troubled relationship with Grandma after all. And he had to empathize with her. She fell pregnant and tried so hard to make the relationship work, even when they had broken up, and he just gave up and left. Then, the daughter she thought she had suddenly was replaced with a son she wasn't ready for. He understood why it would be hard on her – she loved having a daughter after all. And she did really try to make things fun for Bucket when he used to go over there as a kid, and he appreciated that. So he would keep on trying, and keep on going over there as long as she would have him.
Since Bucket started working, Grandma decided to change his visitation to once a month, instead of every week. What a miracle. Well no, what a terrible thing to think about his own mother. She just needed space to come around to accepting Bucket for who he was, right? But having to go over there just gave him a bad feeling…
He pushed it to the side. It was going to be a bad time if he went in there believing it would be a bad time. He had to snap himself out of that bad feeling and try to convince himself it was going to be fine. So he pumped a little faster on his bike – could it be possible for him to sweat off the brow pen? – and went quickly towards her apartment.
Some things never changed. The apartment was the same one he'd been coming to since he was small. And the feeling he had when approaching the building was always the same too.
Misty was there to greet him – he was glad to see that because it was weird when she wasn't, even though he was more than old enough to be able to let himself in. "Oh my God Moxie, what happened to your face honey?!" she asked, hurrying over to take his cheeks, and then licking her fingers to try and take the lines off of his chin.
"Just a little bit of make-up," said Bucket, turning his head away because ew – but she held him in place, just smudging the color around. "It's fine, Mom, I'm about to go wash it off anyways."
"Oh Sweetie. Why won't you just talk to me?" she asked quietly, staring into his eyes for a moment.
There were so many reasons he could think of that he wouldn't want to talk to her. But what a selfish thought to have about his own mother. "Of course I'll talk to you, Mom," he said quietly, not really looking at her – in fact he'd barely looked at her since he got there in the first place.
"There are obviously things that you won't talk about," she told him as she took him inside. "Things that cause you to be so… So depressed and upset with yourself that you are doing this in response."
"I don't know, Mom," said Bucket softly under his breath. "All I know is that I'm happier this way."
"Why are you so happy to make everyone you love so worried and upset?" she asked him as she unlocked the door.
Bucket stopped at her question, a slow sense of guilt filling up his heart at her question. He knew they were worried and upset. Even if they didn't show it, all of them were. And yet he was happy. …Why? "I don't know," he said softly, and he really didn't.
"We love you so much and we just want our happy little girl back," said Mom as she brought him into the living area and Bucket's heart dropped to his stomach when he saw another man sitting in the room. Mom just smiled at him. "This is Connor, the District's best hypnotist."
Oh bother. No. She was just trying to help him. She really meant well.
"Hi there," said Connor. "I heard you're feeling some depression and having an identity crisis."
Bucket could have protested. He could have told the hypnotist that he went by Bucket and was searching for his real name, and he was fine and not having a crisis because he already knew who he was. But did he really know, when everyone he loved was telling him he was something different? How would anyone know for sure in that situation? Besides, fighting back would only prolong the inevitable, and cause a battle. So he just sighed. "Yep. Sure am."
"I'm here to help you, young lady." It didn't even bother him anymore when people called him that. He just had gone numb to it. Did that mean she really was just putting up this front to escape some bad truths about herself? "Have a seat."
"Alright," said Misty, looking excited as Bucket sat down in front of him.
"Don't worry, hypnotism doesn't hurt, it isn't even scary at all. It's a process that will help you relax, and bring back what's truly inside. You'll find that maybe Moxie never left."
"Okay." It was like a switch had flipped deep inside of him. Something had changed. He was barely even listening, hell he was barely even there. He just did as he was told, but he didn't want to listen and try anymore. Not even for Misty, heck, not even for Aunt Florrie, or Grandma. He'd tried every single method that Misty asked him to – he tried that conversion therapy session, he tried the witch doctor, he tried sleeping with rocks of femininity under his pillow, he even tried the confidence-building techniques that she gave him in a book. They all just felt wrong. But being a man just felt right. Why couldn't others understand that? It didn't seem so complicated to him…
No no. They all loved him. They were trying… They were going to come around…
When?
It was like he wasn't even there. And yet, he was doing what they asked. Looking at the golden watch moving back and forth in front of his eyes. Just wishing that they could just spend some quality time together instead of having to listen to whichever expert Misty had brought in to try to fix him.
Maybe he wasn't broken.
Maybe this was just who he was.
Nobody ever stopped to think about that. But it was because they cared, and they meant well, and they just wanted him to get better, be happy. When they caused his sadness… No. He was continuing to be patient for them. They would someday accept him, and everything would be great again.
Until then, he would feign a yawn and close his eyes.
"You are getting veeeeery sleepy…
~.~.
His life has just been ruined.
Ruined? No, ended. Death sentence, signed.
He heard the sound of the doors closing behind him and just gaped in shock. He finally looked at the girl that was reaped before him, but Sabine didn't even look at him in that moment. He shouldn't have been looking at her either.
"Alright you two, get ready to say goodbye to District Seven," Sidonia said as the rooms were open and Peacekeepers came to direct them – at least they had gentle hands – to the right one.
Bucket slowly sunk down into a chair. Oh wow, this was the most comfortable chair he'd ever sat in. Just how much he sank into it was making him feel a little bit sleepy. His body still held onto the tension from what just happened, but his mind had already elected to try and forget about it.
The door opened and he barely even registered the sound. It sounded like it was far, far away from him. But when Autumn actually came in and hugged him, he knew that it wasn't far away after all. This just happened. He was just… Reaped. He was probably going to die. He already felt like he was doomed.
"You're n-not going to die… Right?" Autumn asked, wiping tears off of her face and looking up at Bucket with a sad look in her eyes. She was very rarely affectionate to him anymore since he came out but…
"I can't tell you that for sure," Bucket confessed to her honestly. The masculine urge to be the strong one overcame his fear in that moment with the thirteen-year-old curled up on his lap and he just put his arms around her and took a deep breath to push his own tears away. He couldn't break now. He could never break again.
"You're not going to die." Aunt Florrie came in after her daughter and grabbed Bucket's cheeks for a moment. "You hear me? You're not."
"I can't say that with certainty. I'm sorry Aunt Florrie, I can't lie to anyone." He could never tell a lie, it was a good thing he was not in a story that had a main theme about lies or delusions. "All I know is what I can do. And that's my very best."
"Bucket is right," said Aunt Kessie, coming to put an arm around her wife, and the other one around Bucket, hugging the two teens between them. "And he always does his best."
Bucket looked over at her, his mouth falling open. "Y-You used my pronouns," he said, still a little bit in shock.
"We didn't know how serious you were about it." But he's now been reaped on the male side. Maybe if he hadn't switched, he wouldn't be here. Or maybe he would have been here instead of Sabine…
Bucket didn't look at them for a moment. He drew on facial hair. How could this be what made them realize he was serious about this? He'd always been serious about it. That moment of excitement at hearing Aunt Kessie use his pronouns slowly faded away into… A much worse feeling than he had from being reaped. He just pushed it down. "All I can do is my best. But I'll give it my all. I'm not ready to die before I even know who I am."
He watched the reactions of the small family. A look exchanged between the two women, while Autumn was still just clutching onto him and crying.
Not a good oh.
It was never a good oh.
"Time's up," said the Peacekeeper, and Aunt Kessie was the one to take charge with Autumn, while Aunt Florrie just stared at Bucket in front of her and was holding her face in horror as tears were pouring out of her eyes.
"We still love you forever, Mox," she said quietly.
Bucket squeezed his eyes shut for a moment.
"I know you're confused right now. But you just have to push that all aside and get home. One way or the other."
Confused.
He wasn't… Confused. He hated it when people said he was confused. He wasn't. That wasn't at all the right word. Because he knew what they all meant when they said it. They thought she was confused.
"Goodbye," Bucket said curtly. The bad feelings came back and he didn't want her to face them. So she turned around and she left, and he watched her go as the door opened up and Grandma came in, slowly as she still stubbornly refused to use a cane. "Grandma," he said, quickly getting up to help her walk across the way. He wanted to cry for her. But how could he cry for her when her eyes were dry?
"You're going to have to do terrible, terrible things," she told him right away, looking into his face for a moment. "Terrible things to that girl, and all of the others that stay in your way. No matter who they are or what they look like."
"I know," Bucket said quietly, feeling an ache in his throat because he wasn't sure he could do those things.
"You have to lock your big heart away in a cage. Just for a couple weeks. Use the strength you got from your job. Learn how to use a weapon. Strike every one of them down."
"Grandma, I don't know-"
"You don't have a choice!"
"I do have a choice," said Bucket, but he knew she was right. "But I want to live, so… I will. It's just not fair."
"Life isn't fair!" Grandma said right away. "You think I asked to have a daughter that hates me, and threw a baby at me?! You think I wanted to continue working and raise another kid?!"
Bucket frowned a little bit, feeling those… Bad feelings. "No," he said. "But you stepped up and I'm so thankful Grandma." His eyes pooled with tears.
"You gotta learn to blink those back, okay? Just for a couple weeks. You can cry all the tears you want once you're home to me."
Bucket sniffled and nodded right away, looking up at the light and blinking a few times to push the water back as much as he could. "Got it."
It didn't feel like much of a goodbye. He knew why she was doing what she was but also… He wished she would comfort him.
Instead she just told him how much she didn't even want to raise him.
God, why?
"Okay," said Grandma, looking at him for a moment before she just sighed and opened her arms to him and he gave her a huge hug. "I'm not giving up on you. That'll mean nothing if you give up on yourself."
"I won't give up on myself," Bucket said with another quiet sniff he tried to hold back. She was right, she was right about everything. He had to push back the emotions, put his heart in a cage, and survive. He wasn't sure how, but that was what he had to do. And she would be better off if she didn't have to raise him. He already knew that he was just a burden to her growing up. Maybe there was a way to make it up to her.
"That's all you need to remember," Grandma said, pulling his face down a little bit to kiss the top of his head, on his brown hair. "Then you'll be back before you know it."
"Yes ma'am," Bucket said, starting to walk her towards the door as the Peacekeeper put his head in the room to tell them time was running out. He didn't want them to be the ones manhandling her. "I'll be home soon."
"I love you. Bucket. Come home."
"I love you too Grandma," he said, as a tear slipped and he quickly reached up to wipe it away as the doors closed behind her. Time. He knew all it would take was time. But… why did it have to be like this?
The door on the other side of the room opened one last time and Bucket sucked in a breath when he saw the look on her face.
"Moxie!" she said as she ran over to grab him into a hug. "Why, Mox?! Why?! How could they do that to me?!"
The crushing guilt came back and replaced any grain of hope that he could return home in that moment. He put his head down, not even sure what to say to her as she was howling with sobs. He was just reaped. Why was she here asking how they could… could do that to her?! "Do what?" he asked finally, hoping for an answer like send my baby away or something.
"I want whatever so-called government official that let my daughter stand in the reaping pool with all those men to get fired!" she said right away, grabbing Bucket's arms tightly – so tightly it kind of hurt. "They saw a sick, depressed, delusional little girl and they let her stand with those men. It's evil!"
"I was the one that did it," Bucket said.
"They never should have let you. Moxie, you are sick honey, your brain doesn't work. You have a mental illness. And they took advantage of that and now you're here as a man. Honey you're not going to last a second as the Seven Male, everyone around you is going to take one look and know that you're crazy."
"I'm not crazy," Bucket said, before he bit his tongue. It just slipped out. But he was just… So… Full of all these emotions from the visits before.
"It's okay, that's why you have me, Baby girl. You have me and if you just go with Mommy she'll tell those Peacekeepers that this was all a mistake and they'll let you come home so that I can have my happy daughter back. Right?"
Bucket stared at her. She was still clinging to the idea of her daughter after all these years. Even after he got reaped, and was going to go into the Games, all she cared about was Moxie. Moxie, Moxie, MOXIE! Bucket could feel the rage pouring out of him and he couldn't hold it in anymore. She never tried to accept him and he was just… Waiting for her to finally realize he wasn't Moxie anymore and why?! "No," he finally said, shaking his arms away from her. She was so small and he was not small anymore.
"What?" she asked softly, trying to look at him with those sad eyes that always made him feel bad for her. But not today.
"I said, no," he said again, this time a little more confidently. "That's not right. I was the one that went and applied for a reaping gender change and they granted it to me because that's the side I belong on. If you go try to tell them it's a mistake they're going to laugh in your face and tell you to get lost. Because it's not a mistake," he said.
"Moxie-"
"Moxie is gone!" Bucket said loudly, and she ducked away from him. Part of him was screaming inside in terror, but the other part remembered what Grandma said. His heart was in that damn cage because she never cared about him. "Moxie doesn't exist anymore! I'm sorry you lost your daughter, I really am. You think if I could just make you happy by continuing to be your little girl, I wouldn't?!"
"You're not making me happy, Mox," she said, and her voice sounded different.
"I did so much to try and make you happy and nothing worked because I'm not crazy! This is just who I am! And fucking nobody could just accept that! Why!?"
"Because I know who my daughter is."
"You don't know anything about me!" Bucket said. "You don't even know your own son! You know nothing about the things I like, you know nothing about my quirks, or the things that I make me tick, because you never cared to ask! You've been too busy trying to get a daughter back from the dead that you've failed to get to know your own son, and now you're going to lose him too, whether I get home or not." And he was angry about it. And hurt. And sad. His eyes teared up and he couldn't hold them back with how strongly they were coming just thinking about how things could have been different. "We could have had so much fun together, we could have been Mommy and Son! And we're not, and it's your fault because you're delusionally attached to someone who's been gone for four years!"
Misty just stared at Bucket for a moment, a little scared of him raising his voice, which made him feel terrible, but in a way, just a tiny bit good. It meant that there was a little bit of respect. "Bucket-" she said, clearing her throat. "I mean- Moxie-"
There was a dumb part of him that was just so happy to hear him actually call him his name, even if it was a stupid accident. But no. "It's too late," he said finally, taking a deep breath. He hated saying that to her, but… After all the ways she's tried to change him and never cared about him… He was just so tired of trying to please her. "That's enough," he said, putting up his hand to stop her. "I don't want to hear anymore. I'm done. You stopped being my Mom a long time ago, and now I'm going to stop being your son." It was hard, but… He had to draw the line somewhere. He took a deep breath.
She stared at him for a moment, and shook her head. "It's worse than I ever could have imagined," she said, her face turning red as she continued to cry, and he realized that it wasn't even worth fighting anymore. She would never understand, she would remain delusional forever. So he just pointed at the door. "Goodbye, Misty. I wish you the best. But I don't ever want to have contact with you again." She might not even be the only one, he wasn't sure. This was the only one he was totally willing to cut the cord with.
"I hope you get better soon," she said quietly, and he could tell she really, really meant it. She wasn't trying to be cruel, she meant well, she really thought he was sick and just wanted him to get better. But that just… Wasn't right, and he couldn't keep making himself be around that kind of person anymore.
Misty turned around and walked out of the room, closing the door behind her and leaving Bucket in the quiet for a moment, with only the sounds of his own breaths to keep him company.
He slowly sunk down to the ground for a moment as more tears forced themselves out of his eyes. That was hellish. All of those goodbyes just straight-up hellish. Why? That was his family, that he just sent out the door like that! And he barely felt a thing. Time wasn't enough for them. Only tragedy. Now he just didn't know what to think.
"Hey," said the Peacekeeper in the room as he opened the door. "You got a line here bud, get yourself together."
"A…A line?" Bucket asked, just looking a little out the door and recognizing the faces he saw. Mr. and Mrs. Bowser, who had a wine subscription and always tipped him for delivering it. Mr. Jackson, the kind old man that always signed for the packages at the lumber mill. The Gallens, with little Frax, who always liked to receive letters from their friends from the outskirts of the District. His supervisor, carrying his bag with the special patch on it.
All of these people whose stories he knew a little bit about, and they knew just a little bit about his. And yet here they were for him.
He sat up and quickly dried his eyes. Maybe sometimes family wasn't about blood after all.
He actually felt himself smile a little bit, so… Grateful for this. It was just what he needed.
"Alright," he said, wiping his eyes one last time. "I'm ready."
~.~.
Ornstein: my intro is the longest Celtic has ever written
Bucket: hold my beer
Anyways, here's my sweet little mail boy Bucket! I can't wait to post this intro because I already love him.
Next Chapter – Gus, the Valid Boy from 10 that makes a living babysitting.