Misery Loves Company

Track 2: The Name Game

Misery Loves Company

By: theinkslingerr

Track 2: The Name Game

When your name was Misery, you couldn't really be friends with the Ashleys, Jessicas, and Lauras.

They were too busy putting glue in your hair during Arts and Crafts and saying things like your Mommy and Daddy didn't love you.

No, instead you took a bribe (animal crackers usually) and made nice with the Beatrices and Olgas in your class.

More often than not, those little alliances only lasted as long as the box of animal crackers (maybe a little longer if they were frosted) because while 'Beatrice' was old-fashioned and 'Olga' sounded like a hobo coughing up phlegm, nothing was worse than Misery.

By fifth grade the animal crackers had lost their appeal. There were other concerns: clothes, sleepovers- boys tested negative for cooties.

I desperately needed to update my arsenal, but I didn't know how! Apparently, spending the night at my house was an offensive suggestion, my fashion sense was whacky, and when boys weren't using me for target practice, I was invisible. Except that one time Josh Henderson told me his Mom thought my Mom, "Should've just gotten an aborten." A few weeks later he apologized for mispronouncing "abortion" and made sure to clarify.

That was my elementary school life-- pretty bleak until Enid Concepción Diaz saw me eating a box of animal crackers on the swings.

She was a quiet, chubby, little thing with an awkward bowl cut that made her look like a boy, but we formed a tacit understanding the minute I offered her a cracker. We swung side-by-side, barely saying anything. Me; in shock over this unexpected alliance. Enid; inhaling innocent tigers and giraffes. When recess ended she simply whispered, "Thank you" and waddled off.

The next day I approached the swings, head down, fighting back tears because Josh had thrown a stick at me. I wiped my face roughly, thinking 'At least it wasn't a rock,' and looked up. Enid was standing there awkwardly, clutching something to her chest. For a while all we did was stare at each other...then she smiled and held out a box of animal crackers.

My favorite memory.

I tried to keep that in mind as I shouted at her.

"I knew this was you. I knew it! You can put it up on Vine, Instagram, and YouTube later, but right now we've got that interview!"

Enid twirled a bright red curl around her finger- something she did when she was nervous, "This is that interview."

"Huh?" I paused, more than a little confused. "Why would we interview a bunch of Blue Vendetta wannabes?"

"Because," she cleared her throat loudly. "They're...the real thing?"

Everything I had in me, everything that existed in me; stopped working.

It couldn't be true.

Suddenly, proof that it could be trudged through my door in the form of a balding, middle-aged man who looked around the room and frowned. "Is this it? Is everything ready?" His stern gaze bore into Enid.

"Uh...almost, Mr. Ackerman, " she squeaked. "I just-"

"Need to tell your friend what you signed her up for?" Real Rocco Alden interrupted, cheerfully.

"Signed me up for...?" I echoed. It was hard to panic or get angry or feel anything, because I couldn't possibly imagine what my best friend had signed me up for.