Nell
n a m e
She’s exuberant upon her return home. She hasn’t had anyone ask her name since fourth grade.
But she doesn’t like to think about fourth grade, so she pushes the thought out of her miind straightaway, focusing on the new girl.
Stella. Such a pretty name in and of itself, one of those names that’s just unique enough to stand out without sounding too pretentious or obnoxious.
And the girl behind the name is even more wonderful. Stella has been in a lot of places - New York, Chicago, Miami, Austin - at the price of going between foster families and distant relatives. She wants to be a film major in one of the cities she’s been in. Stella loves the city, and she misses it every day she’s not there.
Stella seems to have her life all planned out for herself, while Nell has no idea what she wants for herself.
She smiles for a moment. She’s found that she doesn’t mind her name so much anymore. Stella certainly doesn’t; when Nell offers it up tenttively, Stella tells her, “That’s a pretty name.”
She tries to believe it, and it’s surprisingly easy when someone else says it.
“So’s yours,” she whispers back, her voice somehow weaving its way through the din that’s overtaking the hallways, into Stella’s ear canals. She knows, because Stella smiles, and replies with a quick, “Thanks.”
She remembers those moments fondly, holding on to them until she gets to the oppressive tension that’s become ever present at home.
Just in the door, she checks the stairs to the basement. The lights off; Dad’s sleeping upstairs. Mom doesn’t get home until late that night, and she almost checks Trevor’s room before she remembers that he’s in Miami, boarding by the beach and taking classes in air conditioned universities.
He made it out. She needs to as well or she’s sure she’ll die. Or something equally significant will happen.
She takes in a breath through her nose and exhales out through her mouth. It does no good to think that way.
She sets down her backpack by the couch, settling down to power through her math homework. A hastily scribbled note in two different styles of handwriting falls out of her book.
She smiles, and thinks of names. Her fingers run over the familiar, unremarkable cursive, and thinks, Nell. She turns her attention to the artfully messy letters, and thinks, Stella. The two of them write notes throughout English class, ignoring the lesson on sonnets and plays they already know
Well, while a rose by any other name would smell as sweet, it’s got a lovely name regardless.
But she doesn’t like to think about fourth grade, so she pushes the thought out of her miind straightaway, focusing on the new girl.
Stella. Such a pretty name in and of itself, one of those names that’s just unique enough to stand out without sounding too pretentious or obnoxious.
And the girl behind the name is even more wonderful. Stella has been in a lot of places - New York, Chicago, Miami, Austin - at the price of going between foster families and distant relatives. She wants to be a film major in one of the cities she’s been in. Stella loves the city, and she misses it every day she’s not there.
Stella seems to have her life all planned out for herself, while Nell has no idea what she wants for herself.
She smiles for a moment. She’s found that she doesn’t mind her name so much anymore. Stella certainly doesn’t; when Nell offers it up tenttively, Stella tells her, “That’s a pretty name.”
She tries to believe it, and it’s surprisingly easy when someone else says it.
“So’s yours,” she whispers back, her voice somehow weaving its way through the din that’s overtaking the hallways, into Stella’s ear canals. She knows, because Stella smiles, and replies with a quick, “Thanks.”
She remembers those moments fondly, holding on to them until she gets to the oppressive tension that’s become ever present at home.
Just in the door, she checks the stairs to the basement. The lights off; Dad’s sleeping upstairs. Mom doesn’t get home until late that night, and she almost checks Trevor’s room before she remembers that he’s in Miami, boarding by the beach and taking classes in air conditioned universities.
He made it out. She needs to as well or she’s sure she’ll die. Or something equally significant will happen.
She takes in a breath through her nose and exhales out through her mouth. It does no good to think that way.
She sets down her backpack by the couch, settling down to power through her math homework. A hastily scribbled note in two different styles of handwriting falls out of her book.
She smiles, and thinks of names. Her fingers run over the familiar, unremarkable cursive, and thinks, Nell. She turns her attention to the artfully messy letters, and thinks, Stella. The two of them write notes throughout English class, ignoring the lesson on sonnets and plays they already know
Well, while a rose by any other name would smell as sweet, it’s got a lovely name regardless.
♠ ♠ ♠
Big changes for our girl! The next update won't be as timely, though, unless I can get an extra burst of inspiration. Otherwise I'll just have to power through.Comments? Pretty please?