Spunky Cupcake

A short story about a young girl figuring out her name.

I don’t know what my real name is. I know the name that my momma uses to introduce me to people, but I always have a hard time liking it since it seems like no one ever calls me it �" and honestly it is kind of boring. The people that I live each have a different name that they use only for me, and is unique to each of them. My mother calls me Lovebug because I give her the best hugs and kisses, my aunt calls me Wormy because I “worm every penny” out of her (which makes absolutely no sense since I never ask her for anything �" she spends all her pennies all by herself), and my older brothers calls me either Gross or Becky Don’t Touch That! I don’t know why they call me that, I am a great little sister and they are lucky to have me.  

            My mother, aunt, and brothers have been calling me those names since I was little �" I learned them before I learned my actual name. The only ones who ever call me Becky are people outside the home, and my papa �" who is the only one who did not have a real name for me. He constantly looks at me and mumbles to himself about how I am too all over the place for him to pick what to call me. Names are a serious business. Papa has a name for each of my brothers (Burton was Grubby Monkey, and Bill was Grumpy Monkey), he has a name for my aunt (Fritz, which I frankly don’t understand but my father has tried to explain to me being because she is always on the fritz �" whatever that means), he has a name for momma (Pookie �" she didn’t like it much more than I liked the funny faces he makes when he calls her it), and he always says they had earned their names from something they did that defined them. It is all very frustrating �" and I am starting to feel like there is something wrong with me. Why don’t I get a real name? I am an okay-behaved girl. I get good grades in school, I only argue with teachers when they are wrong, I help our dog dig his holes in the back yard, and I even sometimes let the boys in my class win when we wrestle so that they don’t cry or stop playing with me. I am starting to get very impatient.

            A few weeks into the summer my brothers and I are watching cartoons in our living room, trying to cool off after having played in the creek for several hours. My brothers are too dumb to focus on much outside their immediate site, and they stare at the TV with their mouths hanging open. I am only watching with partial interest, most of my focus is on the side door. Momma left a few minutes ago to get popsicles from the deep freezer in the garage and I can’t wait for her to bring them back inside. Finally I see the knob turn and I run to stand near the door �" my brothers both snap their heads around from the TV and scramble to stand next to me. My mom walks in carrying only two popsicles. My mother looks at me and smiles sympathetically.

“Sorry, lovebug. There are only two popsicles left, and your brothers asked first.” She said.

            My brothers start laughing and run back to sit in front of the TV with their wonderful, sweet, chilled prize going to waste in their ungrateful paws. I huff into the kitchen behind my mother, who walks to the refrigerator and begins to rummage around inside. She turns to me and smiles, hiding something behind her back.
“Since you can’t have a popsicle, do you want the last leftover cupcake from Burt and Bill’s birthday party?” she says with a smile.

            I don’t particularly want the cupcake because it is almost a week old �" but the idea of eating a sweet that my brothers could not have was making my mouth water, and my mother knew it. With a wink she wraps the cupcake in a napkin and hands it to me. I grab the cupcake, give her a kiss (gotta earn the name!), and run underneath the table to savor my prize. My mom leaves the kitchen to go and wait for my father to get home from work, since he should be arriving soon. Normally I go with her, but today I had a secret treat and I was not going to leave it unattended. I start to lift the cupcake up to my lips, but then I pause. What if Papa is sad that I didn’t go with Momma to greet him? I peek out from under the table and see my dumb brothers staring at the TV. Looking dumb. They have red stains on their faces from the popsicles, and their Popsicle sticks are still in their hands, as if they didn’t know what to do next. I shrug and hide my cupcake under the napkin under the table and run outside to greet my Papa.

            When I come back inside, my heart drops in fear. My brothers are gone, and when I run into the kitchen I am enraged to see my brothers’ feet sticking out from the table, right where my cupcake was! They were eating my cupcake! I do the only thing I know to be reasonable, and grab Burt by his ankles and pull him from under the table. I roll him onto his back and sit on his chest, and then while he squirms underneath me, I reach over and grab Bill’s ankle and drag him out too. They are bigger than I am, but not by much, and I have rage on my side. While my other brother is pinned underneath me, I manage to get Burt into a headlock while I try and pull my cupcake out of his mouth �" shoving my hand partially in between his teeth to pull it out. Just as I get a grip on it, Momma and Papa walk in. Momma rushes forward to pull me off of my brothers and Papa just stares in amazement.

“Wow, look at her! My Spunky Cupcake fighting for her share. That’s my girl.” Papa says, still laughing.

            He takes me by the hand and we go to the store to get a new cupcake, but it didn’t matter to me one bit if I got one because I had finally found my name.

Author's Note

Thoughts always welcome

Reviews

[KCthelastboyscout]

Very enjoyable story from beginning to end
That's how you get a great nickname.
Great job.the ending was everything