The Noble Court of Princess Kelseypants (sample)
We know of a theory of multiple universes where all possibilities exist, which explains why my mom and dad love me yet named me Francine. Francine Penelope Chelsea, if you can believe it. Even I figured out that was gonna cause problems. No one’s sure when I started to go by Kelsey. Or where I even got the name from. It wasn’t so common back then. Statistics show it’s on track to be one of the biggest girl-names of the ‘90s. Guess for once I was ahead of the curve. Dad’s hypothesis was that I had a friend named Anne Moran and I wanted to fit in with her. I remember Anne Moran. Wore a plaid dress a lot, back in pre-K. I don’t think we were friends. Played with her doll once, maybe. Or at least I watched her play. But we didn’t really bond. We must not have been playing right. (And the doll had a plaid dress just like Anne Moran’s—) (I remember little details. That’s what you see, through my eyes—) But they’re cool with my name thing—my folks. They’re just glad if I’m comfortable. As for ‘Kelseypants’, Mina made it up in fifth grade. I’m guessing the suffix drifted in from Penelope. Or maybe it’s a take-off on ‘fancypants’, which I’m not, that’s the joke, I’m a t-shirt and shorts kind of girl. It’s a fun little name, though. It’s better than Dorkface. It’s better than Moose. I get those a lot.
————— We took a poll on Kelsey. Here are the results. 74% of us don’t remember calling her a name at all, or hearing her called one. However, when names were presented as prompts to the group, several returned a recognition rate above half. We present those nicknames now. • Moose. • Dorkface. • Caribou. We felt strongly that something in her face is ungulate, or recalls such animals. 94% of the focus group believed that Kelsey was nice. 88% of us agreed she was annoying. Few expressed displeasure with her name. —————
In my room there’s a big pale pink binder marked ‘Kelsey’, which is dumb because who else would have that binder. But it’s been my scrapbook since sixth grade or so, and my memory book, and my link with my girls when they’re gone. Back when I was a kid my folks took me to a shrink who was worried I’d have trouble making friends. He said I don’t internalize what everyone else just knows. (He never said that to me, but they told me about it when high school was starting—like they thought it could help me—) Maybe he was right but I know I’ve been missing my friends this summer. (In the summers there can be no routine so I impose one. Since I take care of Buckingham it’s good that his schedule doesn’t get all messed up. He likes eating when I do—) The school year’s coming up. Looking forward. Looking back. “Try to have fun your senior year,” Dean told me. Dean says I’m too analytical. This from a guy in his third year at M.I.T. “You think too much, Sissy.” (That’s his name for me—) “Even when you were a kid, you had to puzzle every little thing out. Mom and Dad will say the same. You think so much about what happened or what’s going to happen, you miss what’s happening now.” But nothing’s happening right now that I can see. (I try to think like Buckingham, I try to get into the moment—) It all starts next week. Senior year. We’ll be together soon. Amelia spends all her summers with her dad, and Mina’s been traveling too. She gets back soon. Just last week I got a phone call: “Kelseypants,” she said, “I return on Wednesday night. Block out your Thursday. Let’s have some fun.” She had to talk quick ‘cause it was long-distance but you’d better believe I signed on. There’s a lot a girl can do when she has a best friend. This was just before the junior prom, this picture. Just the three of us. The boys got into the next shot. Mina’s so pretty. Ruched tulle, that’s called. She wore purple. (No, lavender. That’s what it is. A lavender so soft it’s almost white, and it set off her hair. It’s the color of leaves in the autumn, her hair—) She’s so graceful. She floats when she walks. And she’s tiny. You wanna pick her up and put her in your pocket. And Amelia looks like spring. (Maybe seafoam—) And she made her hair wavy and we’re in the yard all smiling. We got ready at my house. That picture’s in my yard. Taken in my yard, I mean. Now it’s up in the binder in my room. That’s where the prom really started if you ask me, in my room. Dean was still in Boston so we commandeered his room as a staging area, for the actual dressing. My room was makeup central. Think planning a NASA launch with a Madonna tape looping and a very confused King Charles Spaniel running back and forth wondering what kind of mischief to get into. And of course we were living it up. That’s not hard to recognize. Little signs tip you off. The giggles, the gossip. The hoots when I grabbed a hairbrush and lip-synced on “Express Yourself”. Downstairs two boys were as nervous as hell.
————— When pressed, many felt that the annoying thing about Kelsey is her voice. “It sort of warbles,” one boy said, “and it’s caught up at the roof of her dumb mouth.” This stimulated further discussion. Standout comments: • “This depressing drawl.” • “It’s so nasal. When she talks it sounds like if you looked at her mouth she’d have braces, and rubber bands, still.” • “I had to look up the word ‘plaintive’, but that’s the word, plaintive. She sounds like this little bitty sing-song girl and everything’s a question, but she says it more, ‘I have a question… or whatever…? Rowr-rowr-rowr.’”
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