Chapter Text
I mean, dreaming of formula one is one thing, but actually making it is another.
Especially if you're trans.
Especially if your mum won't even take you karting because you've consistently gotten terrible grades.
As Charlie wrote the words in his notes, he couldn't help but think that he sounded absolutely stupid, he's not making it to F1, his mum isn't even going to take him karting as a hobby. He closed the app on his laptop as the teacher stood up the front and called his name. Charlie, ever the wise student, had his headphones in in order to block out some of the morning noise, not hearing the initial call of his name. He only noticed when it was too late and the entire class was staring at him, It happened like ritual every morning. The teacher calls his name on the roll, then tells him to put his laptop away because laptops aren't allowed in the mornings. By then the whole class is already staring at him and the pit in his stomach has already gotten so big that he would implode on himself if he were a star.
"Emily? What are you exited for at athletics carnival this week?"
There it is, his name on the roll. The deadname, yet again. Charlie is so fucking sick of hearing that name, it makes him want to rip his ears off. He's still closeted, despite having cut his hair and wearing the boys' uniform. Surprisingly, he'd only been teased a few times about it, besides the girls in his math class, which always make it a big topic of conversation. He's honestly not sure if they're making fun of him or just trying to interact but either way it pisses him off. Why couldn't they just talk about F1? Charlie's at least glad people don't call him a lesbian. The only thing protecting him from being called a lesbian is the fact that his favorite driver is Charles Leclerc. And Charles Leclerc is hot.
"Emily? Can you please answer my question?"
Shit.
"Uh, I'm not going to be here for athletics carnival, my mum said I didn't have to go."
The teacher moved on, not paying it a second thought. He wishes he could come out to the world and just be himself. But God would it be a nightmare. His classmates would definitely make fun of him and treat him as even more of a social outcast. Charlie fucking hates this stupid rich kid Christian school. There's no diversity at all, just white European kids with the occasional mixed Asian. And may the heavens forbid that the school has any kind of representation besides the occasional poster in a back corridor. They'll celebrate the Lunar new year, put up lanterns and sell boba tea, but they can't have a 30-second announcement at the weekly forty-minute assembly saying that they support LGBT+ individuals? It's bullshit. It makes Charlie want to cry. It makes him want to disappear into the cracks in the walls, just to get away from the blazing LED lights above his head.
While the teacher has her head turned, he opens his laptop to look at his classes for the day. Amazing as always, he has double social sciences, such a great way to start the morning. Last time he went to HASS, he had gotten into an argument with his classmate Ashton about tissues. Ashton had ripped up a tissue and was blowing the pieces onto Charlie's desk, and naturally, instead of picking it up and throwing it on the floor like a normal person, Charlie had blown the tissue pieces right back at Ashton. It ended up as a 30 minute long argument that involved like 5 people, all of which led to all of them staying back after the bell. Charlie had missed his train because of it, coming home late. He wasn't sure why, but being held back with the other boys made him feel so good. It made him feel like the eighth grade boy he was supposed to be, not the weird girl that never does her hair properly or wears makeup.
Unfortunately, this HASS lesson was not as good as it's predecessor. Charlie had tried to sit with his back facing the wall so the HASS teacher couldn't see his laptop, which is great when you want to read about racing lines and the optimal breaking point and how to overtake on a corner, but his classmates had other plans. The HASS teacher had set a seating plan for the entire class and Charlie had somehow ended up with the worst seat, his laptop screen in direct eye view from the teacher's desk. Charlie had tried to sit on the other side of the table, his back to the wall, but his classmate Ashton had almost instantly asked him to move, whining that 'You're not supposed to sit there.' before immediately talking to his friend as if Charlie wasn't right in front of him. 'Emily's just sitting there to play games on her laptop.' The HASS teacher eventually intervened, telling Charlie to go and sit at his usual seat on the other side of the desk.
Why did he always get treated like a pet? Last time Charlie checked, he was a human just like the rest of the spoiled little pricks in his class, not some silly pet dog. If anything, he was smarter that these morons. He already had a plan for his career and figured out his gender and sexuality while everyone else laughed at Epstein jokes. Why was Charlie treated like the lesser human? It was never ever like this with adults. People older than him actually respected his ideas and opinions, even if they didn't agree. They didn't tease him and make him answer the same question five times before he realized they were making fun of him, because they didn't make fun of him, no matter if he explained the optimal geometric racing line through a messily drawn picture, or if he just wanted someone to confide in. That was his biggest weakness, he didn't know what to make of other people his own age, no matter how hard he tried. It was like they were completely different beings compared to the composed and mature world of adults.
Honestly, The HASS lesson went pretty quickly after that. Charlie managed to make more notes on his karting lines, drawing yet another diagram of how to overtake through a corner, it was one of his favorite maneuvers. By the time the lesson ended, Charlie's chest was sore from the binder he had worn for the last week and a half. Well, it wasn't really a binder, it was just a couple of his little sister's crop tops layered in a way that made his chest smaller. It didn't work amazingly, it made his skin itch and left red marks, but it was something. He was thankful that it was recess time, so he could run to the bathroom before his arms fell off from lack of blood flow. That was another thing he hated at school. The stupid bathrooms, whenever he went in the girls' bathroom, he got looked at like he was crazy. If he went in the boys' bathroom, he'd instantly be outed as trans. As he walked to the girls' bathroom, he made it a point to stop by his locker and pocket his phone. He arrived a few seconds before the recess bell, when the bathroom was still empty. Charlie quickly headed inside one of the stalls at the back of the room, locking himself inside. Charlie un-did his shirt, moving his breasts around in the binder until his chest was flat again. He put his shirt back on, fumbling with the buttons slightly before finally doing it back up. He straightened his collar, smoothing the creases in his shirt as he closed the lid on the toilet and sat down. The recess bell rang, a few girls entering the bathroom a few seconds later. Charlie pulled out his phone from his pocket, along with his earbuds. He fluffed up his hair, oily and brown. He hadn't showered in a few days due to dysphoria, using deodorant to cover up his smell. It worked pretty well, although he made a mental note to shower tonight. Back on his phone, he connected the headphones to bluetooth and opened his playlist on Spotify, selecting his liked songs.