Dedicated to Chamberlin of Music, who left the 100th review of my story, "Limelight" (and several other reviews, too.) It was supposed to be a one-shot, but this plotbunny took off! You can't tell from chapter 1, but I promise it's going to be Puckleberry.


I'm sure when Ms. Wilson created this English assignment, she had no idea the trouble it would create. We were supposed to an essay on our names: their meanings, the story of how we got our names, and our names' effects on our identities. The assignment would, eventually, take me from the local library to New York and LA, and my life would never be the same.


The first part if Ms. Wilson's assignment easy: my name is Dreama Ziv. Dreama is an English derivation of "dream," but my parents picked it because it's Greek for "joyous music." Ziv is Hebrew for "light." My dad is Jewish, and he picked it out. Technically, those are my names, but everyone calls me "Drizzle."

When I was little and people asked about my name, I just shrugged and said, "It's pretty!" When I first saw the Disney cartoon Cinderella, I hated having a name so similar to that of an ugly stepsister. When we learned about weather in elementary school, everyone laughed when the teacher said that drizzle is "a fine, misty rain." Adults sometimes asked me whether it had to do with a rapper from the 1900s, Snoop Dog. I told them my nickname had just evolved from my first and middle names. Until this assignment, I thought that was the truth.

"No," my dad corrected, reading my first draft over my shoulder, "It was the other way around."

"What? My first and middle names evolved from my nickname? How is that even possible?"

"Sweetie," Mom replied, "It's what your birth parents called you before you were even born. The first time we heard it, we thought it was hilarious, but it just…stuck. We knew we didn't want to put 'Drizzle' on your birth certificate, though, so we came up with names that meant something to us—names that we thought would mean something to you—that went well with the nickname."

"Ha! Because 'Dreama' is so much more normal than 'Drizzle.' Nice work," I said, sarcastically.

When I was four or five, my best friend Megan lost a tooth while I was spending the night at her house. Her mother got out Megan's baby book to record the event. We looked at each page, and I realized that her book had pictures mine didn't: pictures of Megan's mom with a pregnant tummy; and pictures of Megan's mom in a hospital bed, Megan's dad sitting on the edge while they held a brand-new Megan. I came home and asked to see picture of when I was still in my mommy's tummy. Mom and Dad explained that I actually had two sets of parents: the ones who created me and gave birth to me, and the ones who chose me, adopted me and raised me.

Mom opened a special box that she kept on a high shelf in her closet. She took out some pictures and letters. The first picture was of a pretty blonde girl and a handsome boy with a really weird haircut. The pregnant girl had her hands on her round belly. Mom told me they were Quinn and Noah, and pointed out that I had her hair, and his smile. The second picture was of the couple holding a tiny baby. The baby was pink and crying. So were the boy and girl.

Mom had tried to read me the letter, but she started to cry, so Dad had taken over for her:

"Dearest Daughter,

We wish we could keep you with us, and raise you. We love you so much. Everyone does. That's how special you are: you're not even born yet, and so many people already love you. Most of all, Sharon and Josh love you. We worked really hard to find the right parents for you. Sharon and Josh promise never to leave you, and that they'll give you the love and support you need. They promise to laugh with you, and play with you, and to sing with you. They can give you all the things we can't. Please know, though, that we love you, no matter what.

Love, Quinn and Noah"


When I was older and wanted to know more about my birthparents, my mom pulled out a DVD of my birth.

About a dozen high schoolers paced in a waiting room with my mom, a guy with curly hair, and a lady with red hair and the biggest brown eyes I've ever seen. Dad was running the video camera. One of the girls started to sing softly, and soon everyone joined in with tight harmony: "Sometime in our lives, we all have pain. We all have sorrow. But, if we are wise, we know that there's always tomorrow. Lean on me, when you're not strong, and I'll be your friend. I'll help you carry on. For, it won't be long 'til I'm gonna need somebody to lean on."

When they got to the loud section ("You just call on me, brother, when you need a hand…") a nurse rushed in: "Hey! Patients are resting! This is a hospital waiting room, not a glee club!"

The teens all burst out laughing, and the curly haired man exclaimed, "Guys!" The kids quieted down, and the man turned a dimple-exposing smile to the nurse. "Singing keeps them calm and occupied. You know, out of your hair. Would quieter songs be okay?"

Clearly charmed, the nurse blushed and replied, "Sure. Just as long as they're quiet."

I could tell Dad was laughing as he filmed, because the camera shook a little. Then, Noah rushed in.

"Sharon, Josh, you're up. I'm taking a breather."

He stopped when he saw a really tall boy across the room.

"Dude, you came?"

"Yeah man. I wasn't going to, but…it's Drizzle, you know."

"I know, man."

Then the boys did one of those awkward guy hugs where they have to slap each other's backs the whole time.

The next scene on the video was in the delivery room. Mom was holding my BioMom Quinn's hand and dabbing her face with a washcloth. Noah was holding her other hand.

"I want my mom," Quinn said, weeping.

"I know you do, sweetie," my mom told her, soothingly, stroking Quinn's hair.

"No, you don't," Noah replied. "She's an alcoholic bitch who threw you out when you needed her."

"PUCK!" The first time I saw the video, I was amazed that my parents didn't edit that part out.

"You know who you want? Berry."

"Wha-what? Why would I want Man-hands in here?"

"You're scared that something will go wrong, right? Would Berry stand for that? Besides, you need a distraction, and Berry drives you nuts."

"Fine. Get Rachel."

So Noah ran out and returned with a tiny girl with really shiny brown hair. The doctor and nurses tried to tell her there were too many people in the room already, but she started saying stuff about how she had two gay dads and connections with the ACLU, and she would file a lawsuit, and…

"FINE!" the obstetrician finally proclaimed.

The tiny brunette smiled in satisfaction, pulled a checklist out of her pocket and began shooting a series of questions and demands at the doctors and nurses, who looked both baffled and annoyed. Soon, Quinn had been given a fresh cup of ice chips and a fluffier pillow. Then, a tough contraction hit.

"Some music would help! Where's your iPod?" Rachel asked.

"I couldn't find it," Quinn exclaimed, sniffling.

"That's okay. Noah and I will sing to you. What do you want us to sing?"

"Over the Rainbow?"

"I ain't singing that! I, um, don't know the words," Noah claimed. Rachel rolled her eyes at him.

"I love that song, Quinn! Let's sing it together." The blonde and brunette started to sing, and it was so beautiful. Mom started crying, and the nurse who looked annoyed a second earlier looked blown away by their talent. Quinn sang the melody, and Rachel the harmony until a contraction made it impossible for Quinn to keep singing. Rachel switched to the melody and kept going, though softer, looking in Quinn's eyes. The contractions were getting closer together, making it impossible for Quinn to sing. In the end, it was just Rachel: "Birds fly over the rainbow. Why, oh, why, can't I?"


"That girl's on Broadway, now," Mom had told me during that first viewing.

"Really?"

"Yes. She even won a Tony."

(She has more than one, now.)


"This time, Noah and I will sing to you. If you want, just join in when you can. What would you like?"

"One of Mr. Shue's Beatles songs," she said. "Blackbird."

"Like on that old episode of ER?" Noah asked.

"ER? Puck what are you even talking about?" Quinn exclaimed, sharply. Then she moaned.

"Less talking, more singing, Noah," the tiny brunette demanded, then in a clear, lovely voice sang, "Blackbird singing in the dead of night…" She took his unoccupied hand in hers.

He rolled his eyes, but joined in. I was surprised by his voice. It was rougher than Quinn's or Rachel's, but just as good in its own way. "Take these broken wings and learn to fly." Then they sang together, and it gave me goose bumps: "All your life, you were only waiting for this moment to arise…"

When the song was over, Rachel didn't call for another. She just looked at Quinn, who was sobbing.

"You can do this," she said firmly. "You think this is hard? You cheered under the coaching of Sue Sylvester. That's hard!"

Quinn laughed through her tears. "Shut up, Rachel."

"Wait, you know my name?"

Quinn laughed again, but mid-giggle, another contraction hit, and she yelled.

My mom gasped in pain, "Wow, Quinn! You've got quite a grip."

"No kidding," Noah added. "Good thing I'm a badass or that might have hurt!"

The rest was like any sitcom-birth-episode cliché. Quinn told Noah (aka "Puck") how much she hated him. She screamed and cried. Rachel tried to start a new song as distraction, but Quinn threatened to rip out her vocal chords. Then Quinn started crying about how she didn't have a mom.

"I know it's no consolation, but neither do I," Rachel said. "You're a good mom, though, Quinn. You and Noah are good parents, because you picked Sharon and Joshua for Drizzle."

"God, I can't believe we're still calling her…" Contraction. "…Finn's stupid name!"

"I admit, it is unorthodox, but unusual names can be an asset to a star-in-the-making. You both are so athletic and good-looking. You're also talented singers, although your voices aren't as trained as mine." She turned to my mom and said, "You really should consider getting her into dance and voice lessons at an early age, because…"

"Seriously, Berry?" Noah asked. "Not the time."

"Oh, sorry. Of course it's not. My point was just that my sixth sense tells me we have a star on our hands."

Rachel had Quinn laughing despite the pain. Soon the doctor announced that he saw my head, and with some more pushing and grunting and screaming, I was born. As the nurse was cleaning me off, Rachel announced that she was returning to the waiting room.

"Hey, Berry," Noah called out, "Thanks." She dashed back, threw her arms around his waist and hugged him, then pressed a kiss on Quinn's sweaty cheek and dashed out.

After cleaning me off, the nurse asked who would hold me first. "Quinn will," my mom said.

They put me in Quinn's arms, and she looked kind of…wrecked. But then, she put on a brave face and sang again:

"Who knows how long I've loved you? You know I love you still. Will I wait a lonely lifetime? If you want me to, I will. For if I ever saw you, I didn't catch your name. But it never really mattered. I will always feel the same. Love you forever and forever. Love you with all my heart. Love you whenever we're together. Love you when we're apart."

Quinn started weeping, and my mom was crying, too. Mom stroked Quinn's damp hair and started singing with her, even though my mom is tone-deaf: "And when at last I find you, your song will fill the air. Sing it loud so I can hear you. Make it easy to be near you, for the things you do endear you to me. Oh, you know, I will. I will."

Noah held me. He paced back and forth, whispering something in my ear. Eventually, he handed me to my mom and took the camera from my dad. Then they were holding me, telling me I was beautiful, and that they were my Mom and Dad.


I just finished watching the video for just the first time in many years. My mom saw the tears on my face and handed me a box of tissues.

"See why we named you Dreama Ziv?"

I nodded, adding, "But I still don't get why they decided to call me Drizzle."

"The tall boy Puck hugs at the beginning of the video? He came up with it. He told me, 'you know how awesome it is when it's just drizzling outside, but it's not really rain, so it smells like rain but you don't need an umbrella to go outside? Drizzle. It's original and poetic.'

"Quinn hated it at first, but she said she couldn't just keep thinking of you as 'the baby,' and she didn't want to give you a 'real' name, because she knew you weren't hers. Eventually, their friends in the glee club picked up Drizzle, and that's been your name ever since. And you're Dreama because your nine months with Quinn were full of joyful music. Ziv because you were a bright light in our lives. We tried so hard to have a baby, and then we worked so hard to adopt. When we met Puck and Quinn, we knew they were the ones. She was Christian, like me, and he was Jewish, like your dad. They were smart, and feisty, and so protective of you. Eventually, they picked us, and I thank God every day that they did."

"How do we know so much about them? I thought adoptions kept all that secret."

"Actually…actually, it was supposed to be an open adoption. That means the adoptive parents and the biological parents work out terms that allow the biological parents some role in the child's life. After two months, though, they told me they couldn't get updates or visit anymore. They said every time they saw you, they wanted to take you back, even though they knew you belonged with us. It broke their hearts every time. But the most important thing to them, besides being sure you were taken care of, was making sure you knew that you were wanted, and that they gave you up so that you could have a better life. That's why they gave me the letters."

"Oh," I said, stunned. "Wait, there's another letter?"


AN- Thank you for reading and reviewing. It means so much to me.