Three Short Stories

First Story:
Erin means Ireland. I wish it meant something more interesting – like hope or joy – but it’s just Ireland. There’s nothing that comes into my head when I think of the name Erin. And when I think of Ireland, all I see in my head are green leprechauns leaping all around with a huge pot of gold. Which is not that great of an image to think about.

I got the name from another little girl. I guess it’s kind of like borrowing or maybe even stealing. My mom watched as my brother befriended an adorable little girl with long straight blond hair and big round blue eyes and so she named me Erin after the girl despite the fact that she knew I would not turn out to be blonde-haired nor blue-eyed. I would be Asian, and therefore inherit black hair and brown eyes like most other Chinese babies. But it’s interesting to think that my mom wanted me to turn out as cute as the other Erin.

Sometimes, I wish I could see the girl my mom named me after. But after I was born, she moved away. And we don’t know where she and her family went. We never saw them again.

It doesn’t really matter anymore anyway. I don’t like my name, but I can’t bring myself to change it for some unknown reason… ah. Never mind. I see. No other name would fit me any better than this one.

Second Story:
For my first job, I thought I’d be something really easy, like working at a lemonade stand or helping out in a garage sale. Instead I became a librarian’s assistant. It wasn’t because of money problems or anything having to do with finance that I wanted a job. It was the thrill of learning and getting experience that lured me in.

This job took place after school. I wore my usual t-shirt with jeans like any other day. The minute I arrived I was greeted warmly. The librarian wanted to make sure I was capable of organizing and sorting books so she tested me. I passed the test and started to get impatient to get started. She laughed at my rocking knees – not shaking with fear but with anticipation – and put me to work immediately.

And so for an hour I sorted books. I kept shifting my weight around and finally when I couldn’t stand it any longer, I sat down and organized books on the ground instead. This made things much easier and time passed by faster.

Soon it was time to go. It was raining heavily, drops splattering down as if they were glass rather than water. I waited outside for the longest time, eagerly waiting for my mother or my father to pick me up. I had waited for half an hour when I remembered that I had not told them exactly what time my shift ended. I dug around in my pockets for my cell phone to call them and tell them to pick me up when I realized I left my phone at home.

It was a hopeless situation. There was no way they could possibly know when to pick me up and there was no way I could slosh my way back home in this rain and the librarian had already locked up the door and left for her house.

So I sat down under the gray sky and cried miserably.

Third Story:
There was that one girl who looked like her name would be Sally. Her face was slim and her nose delicate. She had heavy-lidded eyes and dark eyebrows, but when she smiled, the darkness of her face would light up and her dark eyes would sparkle and glimmer out at you. She was the new, interesting, funky kid – the type everybody wanted to get to know first.

Another thing that I forgot to add was that she was beautiful in a dark, elegant way. Her movements were like a cat prowling around at night. The way her black hair covered a portion of her face was mysterious. Her long, straight, black hair swung whenever she walked and her skin was an even olive-toned color.

That was her before. Oh, Sally, what happened to you? You’re not beautiful at all, not anymore. Was it those boys, Sally? You know, the ones that give you the eye and whistle as you pass by. Or maybe it was the entire social scene. These popular preppy girls who wear make-up and think they look gorgeous with it. Did they drag you into it as well? Sally, you shouldn’t have succumbed to the whole peer pressure thing. Now they have you doing drugs and shoplifting. I would’ve been a better influence than them.

Let me tell you something, Sally. You look much better without make-up, because when you wore that red lipstick to school you looked like something out of a horror movie. And it’s too early to try to impress boys. All that effort in beautifying yourself is not worth it. Now your already-straight hair is completely over-straightened and dead-looking. Is that what you want, Sally? You should’ve been friends with me before them.

Your personality has changed a lot too. In order to be part of them, you must be mean to anybody who is not on the top of the social ladder. Now you have no real friends, though you do have a bunch of fakers and followers trailing behind you. Is that what you want too? I could be your friend. But not right now. Not when you’re like this, at least. If your real self is like this all the time, then nobody would want to be around you. Not even me. It’s a shame that they got to you before I had the chance to try to befriend you.

Do you really want me to describe you as how you are now? You look sick all the time. Your skin is all pale and waxy. Your eyes have heavy bags underneath them all the time. Your hair looks burnt, and you have a lot more zits from using so much cover-up.

Oh, Sally. If only I had gotten to befriend you before they got to you.