NO USE FOR A NAME
Published by Reputation Books, LLC
reputationbooksllc.com
Copyright © 2016 by Penelope Wright
All rights reserved.
No part of this book may be used or reproduced in any manner whatsoever without the written permission from Reputation Books, except in the case of brief quotations embodied in critical articles and reviews. For information, contact the publisher at [email protected].
Book Design by Lisa Abellera
eBook Design by Mary C. Moore
This is a work of fiction. Names, characters, places, and incidences are either the product of the author’s imagination, or are used fictitiously, and any resemblance to actual persons, living or dead, business establishments, events, or locales is entirely coincidental.
ISBN 978-0-9862031-4-5 (paperback)
ISBN 978-0-9862031-6-9 (ebook)
First Edition: April 2016
For my mom and dad, Patricia Catterton White, and Eugene White. Thank you for always believing in me and for being wonderful parents.
ONE
Now serving…ticket number…one…five…two…at window number…nine.
I looked reflexively at the little scrap of paper in my hand for about the thousandth time, but my heart still leapt when I saw the 152 in bold black font. Jumping up, I hurried over to the last stall on the right. I grinned when I saw who it was.
My next door neighbor refused to even look at me, just tapped away with her long green fingernails on her keyboard, chewing her gum about as fast as her fingers flew, and she was probably typing ninety words a minute.
Finally she swiveled her head to face me, and her look of mild annoyance melted away into a smile that went all the way up to her dark brown eyes.
"Baby Anderson! I wondered when I'd see you here."
"Hi, Mrs. Dutton."
She blinked rapidly. So much mascara coated her lashes I was surprised they didn't make a clicking noise when they beat together. "Any other member of the Anderson clan walks in here, I'm taking out extra insurance, but you behind the wheel? Now, that doesn't scare me at all."
"Any of the Andersons? Including my mom?"
"Now don't go putting words in my mouth, young lady," Mrs. Dutton said sternly, but since she winked at me at the same time, I'm thinking that was actually a yes.
"You have your social security card?" she asked.
"Right here," I said, digging around in my bag. Mom and Dad have, I'm not kidding, like fifty storage tubs full of unopened mail in a shed behind our trailer. I dug around for hours before I found the one from the year I was born, but I found my card—fifteen and a half years old—and brand-spanking-new.
I handed it to Mrs. Dutton and her brow wrinkled.
"Is there something wrong?" I asked.
"It says your name is Baby Girl Anderson."
"That's just the way they come, I think. The hospital orders it, right? How do they know what your name is going to be?"
Mrs. Dutton raised her eyebrows. "Humph. Any chance you've got a birth certificate to go along with that?"
"I am nothing if not prepared." I'd found that in the unopened mail too, along with a twenty-five dollar check from my grandma with "Congratulations!" written on it. It was probably way too late to cash it. Grandma died when I was nine. From what I hear, banks generally frown on cashing checks from dead people.
Mrs. Dutton took the official document and unfolded it. The heavily creased paper didn't want to lie flat, but she put a hand at each end and smoothed it out, holding it down so she could read it.
She looked up at me, her expression indecipherable.
"Sweetie, the name on this birth certificate is Baby Girl too."
"That's just what it says at the top. Isn't that what they all say? My real name should be on there somewhere."
"What is your real name, Baby?"
"Frances."
Mrs. Dutton's eyes widened and her nostrils flared. "Frances?"
"Yes. For the first-"
"Woman in The Cabinet," Mrs. Dutton finished.
I froze. "You've heard this story before?" I said slowly.
"Yes, Baby."
"It's from a movie, isn't it?"
"Oh, sweetie. It's a really good movie."
Mrs. Dutton handed the birth certificate back to me and I folded it and stuffed it back into the envelope without even looking at it. I ground my teeth so hard I swear I tasted bone. "I still want my learner's permit," I said through my gritted teeth. "Just make it out to whoever."
I saw a couple kids from school on the city bus on my way home, but they pretended not to see me and I had no problem playing that game too. I flopped into a squeaky vinyl seat by myself.
When I got home I found my mother in the kitchen, smoking a cigarette. She stood by the sink, flicking her ashes into it after each long drag.
"Mother."
Mom flicked her cigarette again. "Baby."
I slammed my backpack down on the table. "If that is, in fact, my real name. Oh, wait. It is." I drew out the envelope that contained my birth certificate and held it out to her, my hands shaking.
Mom took it out and looked it over. She rolled her eyes.
God damn it! She ROLLED HER EYES.
"You told me my name was Frances."
"We were very busy when you were born, Baby. Some things fell by the wayside."
"You were too busy to name me? Busy doing what?"
"Oh, I don't know, Baby. It was a long time ago. I don't see what the big deal is." She took a last drag of her cigarette and stabbed it out in the sink. The cherry made a hissing sound as it connected with the wet dishes stacked haphazardly in the bottom. She tossed my birth certificate on top of a teetering pile of papers and made her way towards the back door, twisting so that her skinny hips avoided the giant piles of laundry that threatened to block her way. "You're almost eighteen. Change it yourself."
"I'm fifteen-and-a-half," I screamed after her. I'm sure she heard me, but she didn't stop. The screen door banged shut behind her and I heard the dogs start barking like crazy, the way they always do when they see 'mommy' coming.
I stormed down the hall to the room I shared with Rachel. I slammed the thin door, but the muffled sound of pressboard making contact with a broken frame wasn't satisfying at all.
* * *
The next morning, when I heard my cousin's pathetic horn honking outside, I grabbed my backpack and headed straight for the front door.
"Is there a dying hyena on our lawn, or is Miss Perfect here?"
I ignored Phoebe. She had said the same exact thing every time Kaia picked me up this summer. I rocketed out the door and hurried across the tufts of grass and weeds that passed for my lawn. Flinging open the passenger door of Kaia's old-ass Honda Accord, I slouched into the passenger seat and slammed the door as hard as I could, not only because I was pissed (which I was), but because it wouldn't shut unless you gave it a massive slam.
"Hey Baby."
It was the first time anyone had addressed me by my "name" since yesterday. I'd hidden out in my room all night. I actually pretended to be asleep when Rachel came in. Of course, I've been doing that a lot anyway.
Now, here with Kaia, tears welled in my eyes. I looked away, out the window.
"What do you want to do today? We could go to the mall. Or I heard the football team's practicing. They made final cuts. We could go see who made it."
It was all I could do to keep from crying. I knew if I opened my mouth to say anything I'd be blubbering all over Kaia's fake fur seat covers.
"Baby?"
"Just drive," I choked out. I turned and tried to meet her eyes, but I didn't want to see the look of concern I was sure was spreading a
cross my cousin's face. My eyes settled on the dashboard instead. "Get me away from here."
Kaia tightened her hands on the wheel. I watched her knuckles whiten, and her cheek began to twitch. "What happened, Baby? What did they do to you?"
I stared at my knees and took a deep breath. "Don't freak out. Whatever you're imagining is probably worse than what it really is. I just don't want to talk about it yet, okay?"
Kaia's hands slowly relaxed and she flexed her fingers. When she spoke, her voice was a little too normal. "No problem. We'll go check out the football team. See who we're going to be shaking our pompoms for this year."
I sniffed the last of my tears away. "Just our pompoms?"
"Baby Anderson, I am shocked and appalled by what you're insinuating. As members of the junior varsity cheerleading squad, we are beyond reproach. Bitch, we are squeaky fucking clean."
Now that was Kaia's normal voice.
I rolled my eyes. "I noticed you're wearing the shirt I made you."
"Well, I figured we might scope out the team. There were still a bunch of guys from Hilltop in the running last time I checked." Kaia braked at a stop sign and looked both ways. She started to inch out, promptly killing the car. "Stupid stick shift," she said, jamming the shifter into first. "I am never going to figure this out."
"Hey, at least you're driving. I bet you'll be the only sophomore at Roosevelt High with a car."
"I know, right? I'm freaking ancient." Kaia turned the key in the ignition until the starter ground in protest and the car leapt forward. "I mean, who the fuck fails kindergarten?"
"Well Kaia," I said seriously, holding onto the door handle as the car continued to lurch, bucking, down the road and Kaia downshifted into second, "when they say to eat across the rainbow they're not talking about a box of jumbo crayons."
"But I was hungry. Fucking late-ass snack time ruined my life. My scissor skills were off the charts. I should be a junior now, ordering you around."
"Me? I don't think so."
"Oh, you would so be my bitch."
"Whatever. Dude, I'm starving. Do you have any cornflower blue?"
Kaia turned onto Mitchell Road and the high school loomed ahead of us. The massive orangey brick building looked like a prison, and I'm not just saying that because I was going to be trapped there eight hours a day.
My cousin parked in one of the lower lots, probably so that no one would be around to watch her kill the car fifteen times whenever we attempted to back out. Before we even crested the hill to the field, I could hear the crunching and grunting sounds of guys crashing into each other.
Kaia jogged a few steps ahead of me and craned her neck. "I see Liam Rivers! And Derek Mottola!" she squealed.
People I'd never heard of. They must be from Hilltop. There's only one high school in the county, and it's so big that a few years ago they started making the ninth grade hang out in three different junior highs. Kaia'd gone to Hilltop and I'd gone to Totem Falls. Until cheer tryouts, I hadn't seen her since we were little kids. As soon as I saw her kickass back handsprings, I knew we had a lot in common. Hers were almost as good as mine. Almost.
Kaia ran over to the chain link fence surrounding the field and laced her fingers into the wires. I followed at a slower pace. By the time I'd gotten to where Kaia stood, a couple guys were trotting over, their shoulder pads making them look at least four feet wide, their red helmets dangling from their fingers.
"Hey Keeks," the blonde one said, flipping his sweaty hair back from his forehead.
Keeks?
Kaia put her toes in the fence holes and lifted herself up about eight inches so she could look him in the eye, her breasts thrust against the chain link fence. "Hi Liam." Her voice was way chirpier than what I was used to. "You made the team. Right on."
"Yeah."
"What position?"
"Kicker."
Obviously a man of few words. Kaia cocked her head. "Oh yeah? I'm a kicker too." She lifted one foot away from the fence and raised it over her head, her toes brushing the chain links above her before sliding back down and regaining a toehold.
Liam's face turned bright pink as he watched Kaia.
"Heya Derek." She turned her head to the other boy. He was a little shorter than the blonde, but not by much, and he was much cuter.
Cute boy grinned back at her. "Hey. Nice shirt."
"Thanks." Kaia jumped down off the fence and backed up a couple paces and put her hands on her hips. "NOT ALL CHEERLEADERS ARE BITCHES" stretched across her chest, but with the size of her boobs, a few of the letters got lost on either end. "My cousin made it for me," she said, nodding at me.
"You have family?" Liam said.
"Of course she does," I snapped. Was Liam an idiot or what?
"I guess I never pictured you with relatives, Keeks. Minions, sure. Family? No way." Derek’s eyes flicked over to me and gave me a long look up and down. I wished I'd worn something cuter than these holey old jeans and beat up t-shirt, given how hot he was, with his dark wavy hair and his crooked nose that had obviously been broken more than once.
"So not all cheerleaders are bitches, huh? I'm disappointed." He flashed his grin at me, and it was all I could do not to breathlessly smile back as he put his helmet back on, wiggling it down over his longish hair. "You might not want to spread that around. It's bad for your rep."
"Yeah, it's true," I said. "Not all cheerleaders are bitches." Wanting to regain my footing, I executed a lazy—but perfect—back walkover then looked him right in the eye. "But some of them are."
Derek's grin stretched wider. "Even better. What's your name?"
I put my hands on my hips, cinching in my t-shirt so that he could tell I had boobs too. Not as big as Kaia's, but I wasn't smuggling raisins either. "You like bitchy girls Derek? We're gonna get along great. My name's Barbie."
"Ba-"
I cut Kaia off before she could call me Baby. "C'mon Keeks. Are we here to work out or not? Later boys."
I trotted down the length of the chain link fence to an opening I could slip through and made my way onto the track that ringed the football field. I could feel the guys' eyes on me, but I ran slowly, making it easy for Kaia to catch up.
"What the hell was that all about, BARBIE?" she said as she fell into step beside me.
"My name's not Baby."
"Well of course it's not. And I get not wanting to switch to Frances for god's sake, but Barbie?"
"My name's not Frances either. And Derek was cute. He said he liked bitches…and who's bitchier than Barbie?"
"Wait, what?" Kaia stopped abruptly in the middle of the track. "Your name's not Frances either? Then what is your name?"
I stopped running too. "I don't have one," I said. I stared at her forehead so that I wouldn't have to look directly in her eyes. "My parents never got around to it. I just found out yesterday."
"Oh, Baby."
She took my hand and led me over to the bleachers. We climbed about twenty five rows back, our silence broken by the sounds of the boys practicing on the field and the occasional coach's whistle. I hugged my knees to my chest on the shiny metal bench.
Kaia folded her hands in her lap. "They're such assholes," she whispered.
"I know."
Kaia unfolded her hands and drummed her fingers nervously on her knees. "But Baby, how could you not know? Didn't your parents have to show your birth certificate to get you signed up for school or something? Didn't you wonder why none of the teachers ever called you Frances?"
I shook my head. "I don't know what you need to sign up for school, but I found my birth certificate and social security card in one of the tubs of old mail my parents have out in a shed. And I just remember being really grateful in kindergarten that nobody called me Frances. I've always hated that name. I guess I figured everybody just knew that I went by Baby, so they called me that. I don't know. It seems dumb now, but seriously? Why would I think anything different? Who doesn't name their own kid?"
Stupid rheto
rical question. We both knew the answer was Geoff and Jessie Anderson, my parents. We watched the boys slamming into each other on the field for a few minutes.
Finally I broke the silence. "I don't want to be called Baby anymore," I said. "I'm picking a new name."
"Barbie?" Kaia asked, a laugh in her voice.
"That was just spur of the moment. I'll come up with something better later."
A guy trotted up to the edge of the field. With his helmet on, it was hard to tell who it might be.
"Hey Barbie?" When he called up into the stands I recognized Derek's voice.
"Yeah?"
"I forgot to tell you something important," he hollered.
"What's that?"
"My middle name." He tossed the football in his hands up into the air and caught it deftly. "It's Ken."
A whistle sounded and Derek bounced on his toes a couple times before he turned and jogged back toward the field. From the way his shoulder pads shook as he ran, I'm pretty sure he was laughing.
Kaia kicked my foot. "Looks like you're stuck, Barb."
TWO
When I finally remembered to tell Kaia I'd gotten my learner's permit, she immediately pulled over and insisted I drive.
"Don't you have to be, like, an adult or something to teach me?"
"Oh, please. If I don't do it, who else will?" she asked.
She had me there. The only person in my family that knows how to drive is my dad, and he's always at work at the casino. Not that he'd necessarily teach me anyway. He might. I'm not sure. Dad's not a bad guy, he's just…I don't know…even when he's there he's not really there.
I swear to god, I will never make fun of Kaia for killing the car again, because I did it like fifty times in the ten minutes that it took to drive from the high school to the mall.
I hadn't wanted to hang around waiting for Derek to introduce me to any of his friends. Barbie. Awesome. What the hell was I thinking? Kaia was pretty good friends with him, I guess. She said he was one of the nicer guys from Hilltop. "I mean, they're all assholes," she'd said, laughing and blowing her hair out of her eyes, "but as far as Hilltop guys go, Derek's definitely one of the better ones. And he throws huge parties, so everybody likes him."
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