Word Count: 654
Rating: PG.
Category: Angst.
Story Status: Complete
Summary: A brief glimpse into bullying and Rodney’s childhood.

WARNING: Season 3, slight spoilers for ‘McKay and Mrs Miller’.

Written for the SGA_Flashfic Back Story Challenge - sga_flashfic contains gen, ship and slash fics.

Author's Notes: The idea for the nickname ‘Mary’ came from my beta Jayne Perry, thanks pal (I think!)

Beta: Thank you to Jayne Perry for the beta-reading.


 
Names Will Never Hurt You…
By Leesa Perrie

“Mary, Mary, quite contrary, how does your garden grow?”

The sing song voices followed him down the alleyway, collapsing into loud laughter as he ran from his tormentors.  And then there was the sound of feet pounding after him and catcalls of ‘Mary, Mary, Mary’.  He ran faster, reaching the street and turning a sharp left, diving past other pedestrians, and ignoring the shouts of annoyance as he barged on by.

The pursuit ended, as he knew it would.  The busy street was not the best place for taunting him without fear of adult interference.  He was safe for now, but he knew they’d lie in wait for him; his home was on a dead end street and unless he circled round and sneaked into gardens and over fences, there was only one way in and that would be past them.  And the last time he’d tried to circle round he’d been caught and his parents had not been pleased with his behaviour; trespassing on the property of neighbours.

So his tormentors would wait near the corner of his road; mocking him, calling him names and following him until he was a house or two away from home.  Sometimes a neighbour would tell them to go away, but that only made it worse the next time.  They’d call him a sissy because he needed adult help, or say he was a tattletale even though he never told on them; he didn’t want people thinking he was pathetic.

He knew that if he waited long enough they’d have to give up and go home.  It would mean being late home himself, and if he was too late he’d miss the evening meal.  His parents would shout at him, and send him to his room with a sandwich; they never made him miss a meal completely now, not since he’d almost ended up in a hypoglycaemic coma.  He’d miss out on dessert though.

Sometimes he waited, even though he’d get into trouble; other days he rushed past them as fast as he could, trying to ignore their calls.

At least he was free during the weekends and school vacations, as he hardly ever went further than his the end of his street, unless he was with an adult.  His street was relatively safe, as other than his little sister and himself, no kids lived there; outside his street, however, it was not safe. 

The neighbours all thought he was a weird kid, playing mainly on his own and always hanging around.  It wasn’t normal for a boy, he’d overheard them say.  Not that he really cared what they thought anymore.

But he wished the kids wouldn’t call him Mary.  He hated it, hated his first name, and wished he could just be called Rodney, or even better, Rod.  But the teachers always used his first name, and then there was no hiding it from the other kids.  And Meredith soon became Mer, and Mer rapidly became Mary.  It wasn’t fair and he wondered why his parents had hated him so much as to give him such a girly-sounding first name.

He was tired of the jeering voices.  There was no point in saying anything to his parents, not that he would of course, being too proud to ask for their help, but they firmly believed that old, old lie that ‘sticks and stones may break my bones, but names will never hurt me’.  It wasn’t true.  Names did hurt, and sometimes he wished for a punch in the face instead.  And he knew what that was like, he’d run into a few physical bully boys in his short life, but none had given him the trouble that these bullies did.

No, these tormentors weren’t into physical bullying.  It’s not that girls never fought, it was just that this bunch preferred to get their fun with ridicule and name calling. 

And it hurt every bit as much.

The End



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