Why They Call Me Pidge
Kathryn Columba Holt. That's my given name, the name my parents decided to give me when they found I was a girl. The name I hated all through my childhood as my mom took me to debutante balls and beauty pageants that I never won or even placed in. They would always use my full name. Kathryn.
Kathryn Columba Holt. Every time my full name came out of the announcer's mouth I would cringe. Who would subject their second child to such a terrible name?! Maybe they had used all of their naming skills on the beautiful name that my brother had been given.
Matthew Orion Holt. Such a beautiful line of poetry in just three names. Such a free spirited beautiful brother that got to chase my father around performing all of the experiments in the backyard, and learning all the science, and seeing the beautiful machinery at work while I was kept on the sidelines, learning how to cook (see: Burn), and sing (see: woodchipper), and dance (see: trip and fall).
The nickname Pidge was the best thing he ever gave to me, quickly followed by his textbooks when he started school and the sciences.
That night was the night that everything changed.
My cheeks were stained with dark black tears, the stupid fluffy pageant dress rumpled around my ankles as I threw myself onto my pristine pink comforter, hoping it would stain everything. I had lost again to Ruthie Mayer, Janie Brinds, and Delilah Majorino, and no matter how much I begged my mother to let me stop, let me do something else, go with Matt and Dad to launch bottle rockets in the backyard, she made me persist, saying I would appreciate it when I was older.
I expected my mother to come in and tell me to stop crying, probably something along the lines of "if your face scrunches you'll get premature wrinkles", but it wasn't her.
"Katie girl!" Matt's voice exclaimed from the doorway. "You're missing the fireworks outside. Why the tears?"
I looked up from my self pity, the smile instantly creasing my cheeks. Matt and I had a special bond that neither of us could name, inside jokes at the dinner table, reading fairytales after we were supposed to be in bed, the best parts of my childhood, and my toddlerhood to that point.
"There's that smile, Katie girl!" He said, his smile matching mine as he joined me in my room and sat next to me on the bed. "Did that little jerk Annabelle steal your crown again?" He asked, wiping a tear from my cheeks and smudging the dark line against his white shirt.
"I'm not meant to be a beauty queen!" I cried out, and it felt good to say it outloud, to say it to someone who wasn't my mother. I knew i couldn't disappoint her like that. My dad had Matt and my mom had me, even though I could never impress her with skills I didn't have. "I don't want to be Kathryn Columba Holt!" I pouted. "I wanna go with you and dad to the base and see space and design things for space!"
Matt laughed. "They allow girls in Galaxy Garrison now," he said. "When you get old enough you can go too and impress them."
Matt was the first one who believed in me and that made all the difference.
But back then, girls in Galaxy Garrison was a joke. It was still a beauty pageant. Who filled out the uniform the best, whose hair stayed perfect, even under the simulation helmets, who could get the best treatment from the garrison commander if they cried fake tears.
But I still looked forward to it.
"If you don't want to be Kathryn then who do you want to be?" Matt asked.
"I don't know," I answered. "Someone better," I sniffled.
"Me?" He asked with a goofy face, and I laughed and shook my head.
"Someone who can do science and math and not have to wear a stupid frilly dress and be disappointed," I said. Even at five, I knew what I wanted.
"Did you know that mom wanted your first name to be Columba?" Matt asked. I'm sure I made a face, the Columba was my least favorite part. "It's the Dove constellation, and mom loved it every time it was in the sky. That's why dad calls mom Dove." I still thought it was a stupid name. "Dad convinced her to go with Kathryn for you, after his great grandmother."
I didn't need to know the origin of my name, I already hated it enough.
Matt laughed. "Mon calls Dad Eagle One," he said. "I think he likes the power."
Our parents were sickeningly sweet. "What does Dad call you?" I asked. Mom had never called me anything but Kathryn. Dad and Matt called me Katie.
"Duckling," Matt answered. "Dad called me that as soon as I started following him around." It all sounded so interesting. "So what kind of bird would you be?" He asked.
I made a face. "I'm a pigeon," I said, crossing my arms in defense and trying not to cry, but I did anyway. I couldn't dance, I couldn't smile on command and walk like a lady, surrounded by all of the swans in the pageant. I couldn't impress mom, or anyone. "I'm an ugly trash bird!" I cried out.
He laughed again. "I like it," he said. I stared at him. It was terrible. "If you really don't like Katie, would you like to be called Pidge?"
Anything was better than Kathryn Columba Holt. I nodded. "Pidge doesn't have to do the stupid beauty pageants or debutante balls!" I decided. "She can do science and learn all about space and the Stars, and she's the best galaxy garrison pilot even though she's a girl!"
Matt laughed. "What do you say Pidge," he said and it felt natural, "Want to go launch a bottle rocket with dad?"
From there, things got better. I was Katie when I needed to be, but Pidge in secret, picking up all of the science and math and learning all about technology when I could.
The day dad and Matt left for Kerberos, I couldn't be more excited for them. Mom and I saw them off, and were the last to see them before they got on the ship. Matt hugged me hard and whispered to me as Mom and Dad embraced hard, Dad leaving always scared her.
"I'll see you up there soon, Little Pidge," Matt said with a smile in his voice.
"I'll be your commander someday," I answered, squeezing him back.
From there, things only got worse.
The last time I was kicked out of Galaxy Garrison, as Katie Holt, I knew I had to do something drastic. Not only were my dreams of getting into Galaxy Garrison dashed, but all hope of finding my dad and brother were dashed too.
I knew I had to get back in whatever means possible.
I lay in bed for days, trying to come up with the solution, and then as I trudged down the hall for another dinner with my mother, just as drained as I was, the answer hit me like a ton of bricks.
I was prepubescent, as flat as a rail, and looking at the picture of me and Matt in the hallway, the answer came like a bolt of lightning. If I cut off all of my hair and borrowed a pair of his glasses, tucked everything in, I could pass for him. Prepubescence had blessed me with a low voice, and if I lowered it, I could pass for a boy.
Pidge.
But Pidge Holt would be too noticeable, especially after the tragedy.
Major Harabim Gunderson was a comic my brother and I used to read long after our parents expected us to be asleep. He was a no nonsense general that didn't negotiate with terrorists and didn't take no for an answer.
That night, after my mother went to bed, I cut off all of my hair, rooted through my brother's closet, and left for Galaxy Garrison as Pidge Gunderson, a young boy with dreams of the stars and answers.
I left a note for my mother, explaining the best I could, but she still probably doesn't know where I am.
I am Pidge Gunderson, Kathryn Columba Holt.
I am going to find my answers.