Names

Names

Names are impossible to get rid of. So once you have one, don’t even try. You’re stuck with it for life. Take mine for example: Spike. I am a girl. You see how this is a problem. I thought so.

            My mom and dad were apparently obsessed with that name before I was born. So they decided to name their little “boy” that. The doctor’s ultrasound even confirmed that I was a boy. They were wrong. I was a girl. My favorite color is pink and I hate anything that has to do with the word Spike.

Although Spike might be a cool name for some tough guy, it was not alright for a girl who wanted to be a cheerleader. I was naturally blonde, had big blue eyes, and was thin. So obviously on the outside, I made a perfect cheerleader. But every time I tried out, they wouldn’t let me in because of my name. They even told me, “You would make an amazing cheerleader. If your name wasn’t Spike.” Seriously! What could I do to change my name? After all, I was kind of stuck with it. I mean, I could always legally change it but that costs money, money that I don’t have. As a result, I was stuck with not being a cheerleader. So I took up something else. The art of making straight A’s. After all, if I had the brains and the skill for cheerleading then maybe they would let me join. I had the beauty and the brains. The only thing that kept people away was my name. Everyone judged me for a name that I didn’t even pick myself. My parents picked it for me. And yet, no one wanted to be around me or include me because of that simple fact.

When we moved, I dreaded it. At that school, there would be people asking to know my name and teachers announcing my name to the class. There would be the snickers and the flat-out laughter. It would be humiliating. So I decided to lie. If anyone asked, my name would be Nadia. I was hopeful that no one would find out my name. Unfortunately, my hopes were dashed. The very first day, a student found out my real name. They asked the teacher and the teacher just flat-out told them. So that lesson was learned: Never trust a teacher to keep a secret.

“I think that name is cool,” a deep voice came out of nowhere. That stopped all the laughter about my name in an instant. I turned around. It was the guy who anyone could tell was labeled the “bad kid.” He wore a black skull t-shirt, had multiple piercings, and ripped jeans. He was also drop-dead gorgeous. As in, the most handsome guy in the entire school. Even the quarterback didn’t have anything on him! He could’ve been a model.

When the bell rang and class was dismissed, I hung around. In a second “the new kid’s” name would be spread all over the school. Everyone would know about it. That thought was depressing.

“Hey, Spike. My name is Flower,” I was startled out of my thoughts. It was him.

“Hi.” I couldn’t think of anything to say, but I let my mouth keep talking anyway, “Thanks for that. You shut everyone up. It was nice. No one’s ever stood up for my name like that before. I’ve also never met any self-respecting guy with the name Flower.” I should’ve bit my tongue after the thanks, but I hadn’t.

He laughed, “You’re welcome. I’ve never met a girl with the name Spike before. How about I walk you to class and we avoid all the gossip and cliques?”

“Sure.” And just like that, I had a friend. He was named Flower and I was named Spike. If I hadn’t had my name, then we probably would’ve never spoken to each other. Then, we would’ve never had a friendship that eventually evolved into something better. He wasn’t really a bad kid, he was genuinely sweet but in the past had to stand up for himself. This caused many fights, and his tough look. We got along perfectly. Well almost perfectly.

So the moral of this story is: Don’t try to switch out your name for something else. One, it probably won’t work, and two, you might miss meeting someone important.