What Kind of Name Is Mary Celia?
A Peanuts Fanfiction
Inspiration from a few lines in Guylene's Have Yourself a Peanuts' Little Christmas
The class is humongous! All those neatly placed desks and that massive chalkboard catch my eyes. Especially the chalkboard. How many digits of Pi can I even write on it? I squeal in delight turning cherry red in excitement. I do like red…it's the color of the t-shirt and shorts I usually wear, along with my headband and some ribbons I never wore (and I don't plan to wear them anyways). My light blue shoes are worn out from last school year and I still have a few Band-Aids from the argument my cousin, Maynard, and I had over the remote control.
I also should tell you that I wear glasses, and not the normal type with crystal clear lenses either; my glasses' lenses are the total opposite of crystal clear, being as white and thick as liquid paper. I really don't like my glasses as they hide my baby blue eyes but then again, I've had glasses almost all my life. Another thing I should mention is my love of learning. I love to learn anything! Whether it's math or English or how ice is formed; I love to learn it.
"Okay class, when I call your names, say here." The teacher told us in her boring voice. Sometimes the kids and I imagine her voice as a trombone with a plunger stuck inside. Wouldn't that be funny if all adults sounded that way? It sure would be a lot funnier than the kid that tried making us laugh by setting off the fire alarm last year.
"Franklin Armstrong?" oh great. The first of the idiots is being called on.
"Here." An African-American boy in a vermillion hoodie, grey sweatpants and saddle shoes called out. His hair is coal black and his eyes are light brown.
"Audrey Harrison?"
"Here, ma'am." He nervously squeaked out. He seems like a nice kid with brown hair and blue eyes. He's wearing a green sweater, blue jeans and brown loafers.
"Karen Willison?"
A girl with black hair tied in multiple braids shyly raised her hand. Her eyes are green and she's wearing a baby pink t-shirt with a blue skirt along with a large, pink ribbon in her hair. I honestly have to praise her for her fashion sense.
"Okay then…Neil Reed?"
"Mith, I'm here." A boy with a lateral lisp announced. He's got red hair and brown eyes. His t-shirt is deep blue, his jeans are grey and his loafers are brown too. Somehow, I feel like every boy in the class wears brown loafers while we girls wear white sneakers. Well, only two other kids broke that rule: Franklin and I along with that boy with the freckles.
"Patricia Reichardt?"
"Yes, ma'am!" the kid with freckles and a big nose smiled proudly. She honestly looked like a boy at first; but now that I think about it, how many boys are named Patricia? She is wearing a green polo, blue shorts and…green sandals. At least she has some interesting fashion sense: it is a nippy day outside and she's wearing sandals! Kudos to her.
"Mary Cecilia Johnson?" In case you're wondering, that's my name: Mary Celia Johnson… I think the teacher called my name…she got the Mary and the Johnson parts right unless…uh-oh. Why was I expecting this? Every time a teacher pronounces my name, they pronounce it as Cecilia instead of Celia.
"Is there a Mary Cecilia Johnson in this class?" I immediately go red in the face and shyly raise my hand as a few kids laugh.
"It's Mary Celia, ma'am…" I tremble as a few pairs of eyes gaze at me. First day of school and I'm already being dubbed the class clown instead of something more sophisticated.
"What kind of a name ith Mary Thelia?" Neil spits out in my face.
"It's so lame." A girl groaned.
"Yeah…just like those glasses!" Karen agreed, removing my glasses from my face as they laughed.
"Hey! I need those to see!" I manage to squeak out in shock, disbelief and annoyance.
"Hey everyone! Look! I'm Mary Celia!" I hear her voice tease as the laughter erupts even more. I don't say or do anything but cry, my face in my hands so no one could notice it. Everyone but one kid.
"Don't worry, Mary." A husky voice reassures me before I hear a few kids shriek in fear.
"What got into you, you freckled freak?" a boy asked.
"Now look, kid, there's nothing wrong with the name Mary Celia!" her voice calls out as I smile sadly. This is the first time someone said something positive of my name.
"Well that girl thure ith thtupid." Neil bullied before the teacher finally intervened.
"Kids, if you're gonna fight, do it at recess. Got it?" everyone went quiet before someone tapped me on the shoulder.
"Here, Mary." The girl with the freckles and big nose smiled as she handed me back my glasses. "Ya know, I do think you've got a weird name, so I came up with a nickname for ya, hopefully something to boost your self-confidence." Oh joy…as quoted by Yogi Bear, it's déjà vu all over again. I know it's gonna be something stupid like Four-Eyes, Doofus, Queen of the Dorks, Nerd-
"How do ya feel about the name Marcie?" she asked. Honestly, I kind of like it. I mean, it's a female form of Marcius, a Roman family name that can be shortened to mars. Did you know that Mars means the God of war? It also sounds a lot better than having someone call out two separate names together. It even has a ring to it.
"Marcie…Marcie…Marcie…I like it, Sir." I reply as she shoots me a confused look.
"You DO realize my name is Patricia, right?" she asked.
"Yeah…it just sounds…formal for someone like you." It's true. Patricia seems tough and it seems she doesn't take any nonsense from anyone.
"I guess I can deal with being called Sir…on occasion." She called out to me.
"And I guess I can get used to the name Marcie…it sounds a lot better than Mary Celia." I smile back as the teacher taps her ruler on her desk.
"Mary Celia, Patricia; please pay attention." The teacher bossed as I sighed. I do pay attention in class; I just daydream sometimes; I soon discovered that Patricia falls asleep in class though.
"Nice name, Marcie." A boy smiled. I looked over at him. "I'm Franklin."
"I honestly think you have a better name." I admitted as he chuckled.
"Honestly, I think you're a nice girl…a name doesn't defy you, well, according to my Grandfather it doesn't." he replied. And, you know what? He's right.
"Thanks." I smile back at him as the teacher continues the roll call. Goodbye Mary Celia Johnson, hello Marcie Johnson.