My name is...

            My name is Marilyn. Not Monroe, Edwards. But my parents did ingeniously name me after Marilyn Monroe. I’m nothing like that Marilyn though, not even slightly, but the things I would do to be like her… Her perfectly curled blonde hair and full lips and voluptuous figure. The only similarity I can draw between the two of us is a beauty mark on my chin, and I hate my beauty mark. I think sometimes it seems like I take my resentment for my beauty mark and my lack of other Monroe-esque characteristics out on anyone and everyone around me, but the problem really is that people don’t understand sarcasm and a good old fashioned sense of humor. Well, that and no one has given me a reason to be nice yet.

            My name is Theodore Winter, but I want to be in a punk band so people can’t know that. Everyone knows me by my middle name, Michael. I have decided that I don’t care about what people think anymore so a few weeks ago, I shaved the sides of my head and started wearing only vintage band tees. People probably think I am trying to hard to fit some mold, but like I said, I don’t care what people think anymore. This whole “not caring” thing has actually relieved a lot of troubles for me. My biggest problem at the moment is trying to find a name for my band—I always thought writing music and becoming famous would be the hard part of being in a band, but I have of late been proved terribly wrong.

            I rushed down the hall bopping my head to the new underground band I discovered the other night, shielding myself from the falling rain with my binders. “Marilyn, you’re late! One more tardy and you get a detention!” I broke into a full sprint upon hearing the principal calling after me. As soon as I got into class, a huge smirk broke across my face when I saw that we had a substitute teacher—no tardy for me! And I could probably manage to leave early to go grab a cup of coffee before second period! Unfortunately, however, my favorite seat in the back next to my friend Clarissa was taken and so I had to seat in the only available seat next to that one suddenly punk kid with the cute dimples, Michael. The teacher timidly started taking role and when she got to the bottom of the list, she called out “Theodore Winter.” Michael blushed then raised his hand to announce this presence. Most of our classmates giggled, which would have been my normal reaction, but instead I turned to Michael: “I love the name Theodore! I always thought Chasing Theodore would be a perfect band name!” He blushed again and flashed those cute dimples in my direction. Okay, they weren’t just cute, they were really cute.

            I could hear the crowd’s anxious murmuring from just behind the curtain. My palms were clammy, my heart was fluttering, and adrenalin was coursing through my veins. Beads of sweat were forming at my hairline. The owner of the small restaurant came behind the curtain and announced that our first ever live gig needed to begin right now. I really don’t think he realized the gravity of the statement he was making. The curtains opened and we could now make out the faces of our friends and a few others who were dining at the restaurant. “We are Chasing Theodore.” God, I hope Marilyn was right about this band name… And right as the words came out of my mouth, I caught her eye in the crowd and a huge smile broke across her full lips. She mouthed “hello.” As we played the first chord, she began bobbing her perfect blonde hair and swaying her voluptuous body across the dance floor. I never noticed how beautiful she was.