My Name Is Kingsley

“Kingsley!” I turned around, shivering. A breeze brushed through me. Even though it was sunny San Diego, winter was cold this year. It was Saturday, February 1st, 2025. In Sweetland Trails, (my address was 9089,) everyone knew each other. Sweetland Trails was a part of our neighborhood, named Olving N., after the famous artistic director at the dance company, Utopia Dance. He lives in one of the biggest houses in Olving N. Neighborhood. I live in one of the smallest houses. We don’t have backyards. We have a small side yard. I was biking with my friend, Natalia Horjey. The “j” in Horjey is pronounced as an “H.” It’s Spanish. She is my best friend. We were eating tuna sandwiches on the sidewalks. Natalia was shrieking because a spider was near her, probably wanting to get a taste of her mom’s delicious tuna sandwich. A shadow loomed over us. Suddenly, a pretty red sneaker stepped on the spider. I looked up. Natalia did, too. It was the daughter of Olving N., Sarah N. She is also the most popular and richest, and prettiest girl in our school, Great Lakes Middle School. We are seventh graders. Sarah has bouncy auburn hair, made in French curls. She always wore fashionable clothes. Like textured crop tops, ripped jeans, gold hooped earrings, jewel necklaces. Things like that. She blinked her icy blue eyes and her long, thick eyelashes fluttered. Her fair, glowing skin lifted up from her bony cheeks into a mean smile. She had thin lips and sharp cheekbones. She was scrawny, a little. Unlike Olving N., she did not do dance. She ran her long, manicured fake nails against her arms. It was shiny, glittery white-colored nails today. I wondered what she was doing in our part of the neighborhood. “Oh, hi,” Natalia stammered. Sarah flicked her icy eyes down to Natalia. Natalia ducked under her gaze. She’d always wanted to be popular. “Why’d you come here?” I demanded. Sarah shrugged her scrawny shoulders. She hated how her body looked. “I dunno. I came here to see my friend, Poppy.” Poppy is her third best friend in the popular girls’ group. Suddenly, I jumped with a start when a high-pitched, screaming voice shrieked, “Sarah!” It was Poppy Lovings. Poppy had dyed, long straight turquoise hair and long, thin eyelashes and yellow eyes. She had three earrings on each ear, all dangling in a golden chain, and a purple necklace made of bottle caps. She wore a crop-topped sweatshirt, her stomach showing with a belly-button piercing. She wore biker’s shorts in the winter. She was sweating, drops of icky sweat rolling down the side of her tan skin. Poppy had thin, lip-glossed tomato-red lips. She had a real tattoo on the side of her thigh. She was a little weird and a little out-of-the-ordinary. But Sarah liked her. Huh. Sarah giggled and hugged her. Poppy’s straight, glossy turquoise hair waved at me in a high, messy ponytail. Her earrings jingled. Sarah also had a nose piercing and faded, dirty earplugs in her ear, connected to a small, outdated IPhone, dotted with peeling stickers and stains. She took a quick swig of her Stanley, which had splotches of paint on it. Recently in art class, we’d had the topic on decorating. We could decorate anything we bought to school from home with paint, with parents’ permission. Poppy brought her Stanley and used quick brushstrokes of paints on it. It looked ugly. The paint was peeling. Sarah shot a look at me. Poppy rolled her far-out yellow eyes. Poppy whispered something to Sarah. But I heard it. “Seriously, Kingsley is a boy name.” Natalia shot a look at me with her gray-brown eyes. Her long, naturally wavy brown hair was in two lumpy braids. She had on a heart-shaped clip onto the side of her hair and little dangly earrings. Natalia has thick brown eyebrows and tan skin. She has a slender body and she is tall. She likes to wear Indie clothes. Meanwhile, I like to wear soccer uniforms and shorts. I have thick glasses and stout, bowl-cut shiny black hair. “Yeah, and she looks like a boy.” Sarah sneered. Natalia shot a look at me. Just then another girl came. Sarah’s second best friend. Milana Rotarie. She was Chinese, and her dad was French. She had puffy black hair, beady dark eyes, long, thin eyelashes, fair skin, and pink cheeks and thin lips. She was a slender girl. She wore fashionable clothes. Milana was very pretty. “Ooh, hi, Milana!” Sarah squealed. Milana whispered to Poppy and Sarah for a long time. Then Milana turned over to us and said, “hey Natalia, wanna go to the mall with us? It’s just a bike ride away.” Poppy was smirking at me all knowing-like. I knew it was going to end here. To prove my point, Natalia’s gray-brown eyes shot up in excitement. “Oh, really? Oh my gosh, yes!” She clapped her hands, and stared at me for a long time before clipping on her helmet and following the others on bikes.  

I sat alone. Fine. I have other friends. I tried to think of somebody—but no other friend came up. I guess Kiley was there, but she was in vacation to Kenya. Vadym Dulepa was there. Vadym is a girl who immigrated from India last year. She’s pretty nice. She has long, thick eyelashes, wide chocolate eyes, hazelnut skin, long, straight jet-black hair down to her hips, slender and skinny. Vadym was a pretty, healthy girl. No match for me, the lanky girl who looked like a boy. Short bowl-cut Asian jet-black hair, dark-rimmed round glasses, scrawny, and wide-cheeked. I got up and clipped on my helmet and rode up the neighborhood. 

I arrived at Somer’s Street, 1095 Womile Lane. I was sweating. Ahead of me, towering white houses stood, wide and grande. Before them, glistening private pools shone in the backyard. Golf pits and just about anything you’d see in a real good hotel was there. “Woah, for crying in the beer,” I muttered. My dad always said that. He worked at a Spanish restaurant called El Lugar Para Estar. It meant, The Place to Be. Both my mom and my dad were Chinese. They immigrated from China two years ago, when I was eight. This year I’m turning ten. It’s February, 2025. I can’t wait for my birthday next week! They were expecting a boy when they got me, but they thought Kingsley Juniper Ju was okay anyway. Seriously, Mama and Papa? ‘Kingsley Juniper.’ Ugh. My dad, Xingshi Ju, and my mom, Clover Ju(she changed her name because she wanted to be more “American.”), both worked at The Place the Be. My dad was a Sommelier, and my mom was a bartender. My grandparents always argue with them, saying they didn’t study enough, that they make no money. 

I rang the doorbell and waited. I stared at the giant houses with giant doorways. There was barking. The door opened, and a radiant girl stepped out, holding a small, white, furry lapdog in her arms. “Vadym!” I stuttered. The air turned dense. I was sweating. What should I say to her? She looked so cool. “Hi, Juniper.” 

“Huh?” 

“I feel like Juniper, your middle name, is more girly than Kingsley. I’m calling you Juniper,” Vadym said in a thick accent. Her dog, Archana, barked again. “Yeah, perfect.” I decided. Anything Vadym decided was what I decided. “Why are you here?” Vadym demanded. “Well…I, well, I didn’t have anyone else to play with.” Time passed. “I mean, hang out with,” I corrected. Anything to make my words look cooler. Vadym motioned. “Come in.” She flipped her glamorous hair and clacked her high heels across the tile into her house. 

We were playing in her backyard. “Want Coke?” A deep, chill voice sounded. I turned around. Vadym’s sister, Anisha Dulepa, was leaning against the doorway, arms crossed. “Sure,” Vadym said without a care. “No, but thanks. My parents don’t allow me.” I felt ready to strike myself. It was so embarrassing, my strict parents! Vadym raised an eyebrow but shrugged. I looked around her wide backyard. It had a glistening pool, full-out kitchen, giant garden, shed, and extravagant fake grass landscape. It overlooked the canyon, and it even had a balcony over the canyon you could walk onto! Suddenly, a basketball landed near my feet. I jumped and Archana barked. Vadym turned around. I jumped back when a leg swung over the fence. A head popped up—my heart stopped. My stomach flipped. Even more than the wish I had to be as cool as Vadym Dulepa. I staggered. Tan, creamy skin, shaggy brown bangs, dimples, crystal blue eyes, thick dark brown eyebrows, a shy smile. A boy smirked to one side of his perfect face and hoisted himself into the backyard. He jerked a hand to Vadym in an awkward wave. “Greetings to you, neighbor.” Vadym crossed her arms and leaned to her left hip. She narrowed her eyes and stuck out her lips. He got his basket ball right next to me. I didn’t move. He was, like, 10 inches away from me. He stood up and grinned. “Hel-lo, fellow young man.” I blushed. Vadym rolled her eyes. “She’s a girl, Maverick.” Maverick crossed, carefree, towards his side of the fence without blushing in embarrassment. “Oop, sorry.” I was still blushing, tomato-red. He left. My mind was filled with thoughts of him. Vadym giggled after he was out of sight. “You like him,” she demanded. I blushed even harder. I was cherry-red now. “What? I don’t—” Vadym laughed and pressed a manicured finger to my chest. “Oh, don’t be scared. Yes you do,” she said. It made me feel sweaty. Was she targeting me? “Well, he is good-looking, so don’t be embarrassed. Cameron Maverick plays football, and he’s popular.” Vadym was just starting to get popular. So far, she was sixth most popular in the school. “Yes. I do like him,” I admitted. I couldn’t wait to see him again! 

Mom drove up to Great Lakes Middle School a week after. “A journey of a thousand miles begins with a single step,” she says. The motto was attributed to Lao Tzu, a Chinese god, and encourages people to take the first step towards success. I took my backpack and walked into school. 

How come I’ve never noticed him before? I watched Cameron(As I’d watched him every day before. We’d talked a few times, even.) laugh with the other kids. Today Natalia was sitting with Sarah, Milana, Poppy, and the others, including Vadym. I sat alone, watching Cameron, until suddenly Anita Margins came up to me. She was a random kid who I’d stayed pretty good friends with this year. She was holding a paper tray filled with food. “Hi, Kingsley.” I hesitated. “Hi.” I gazed back at Cameron. I jumped in my seat as he looked back at me. His friend, Brandon Hughes, caught us looking at each other and he stood up, laughed(he knew I was girl, thankfully,), and pushed Cameron towards me. Since he was only a table away from me and sitting on the bench closest to me, he staggered and was standing awkwardly in front of me, scratching his hair. “Hi,” he muttered. “You’re Kingsley, right?” I caught sight of Poppy and the others watching me. “Call me Juniper,” I said, glancing at Vadym. She gave a thumbs-up. “Oh.” Everyone stopped talking and stared at us. “Hey, Juniper, join the drama club,” Brandon yelled. “I’m in it. He wants you to be with me.” Cameron stammered, scratching his hair. What was all this drama? I should join the club. “‘Kay.” I stood up and signed the drama club sheet right next to me on the wall. 

I shuffled into the club meeting and everybody turned. “Hi, Juniper!” Cameron shouted. Juniper was a good name for me. I’d grown my hair down to my neck in a month. He seemed excited to see me. We’d talked more the past few weeks. It wasn’t that surprising last month when Cameron asked me to join the club, since we’d been talking before that, too. “H-hi,” I stammered. Mrs. July, the drama teacher, walked up the stage in a flower dress and a messy bun. “Ignorance is the curse of God; knowledge is the wing wherewith we fly to heaven.” She said maliciously. I raised an eyebrow. “It’s drama, remember?” Cameron whispered. His breath smelled like raspberries. “Today I’m assigning parts for our play. Kingsley—” I raised a hand. “It’s Juniper!” I yelled out, embarrassed. Mrs. July glared at me. “Okay, Juniper, how about you play the lead part since you’re new. I’ll see how well you do and decide if you get the part.” Mardi Romani, a sassy girl next to me, giggled and said, “You’re going to be Xiamen and Cameron’s going to be your boyfriend, Vista. Ooh!” She fluttered her hands on top of her chest. “Wait, what?” I squealed. “I mean, wait, what?” I said in a bored voice. “Come on stage.” Mrs. July motioned and gave me a paper that said the parts I was going to say onstage.” Cameron came on. He stumbled on stage, clearly embarrassed. He took a deep breath. “For we know we are supposed to be together,” he said. Then he paused and looked at me. “Oh! Um, but we are forlorn the people will banish us.” We stepped closer. Suddenly, I stumbled, and tripped. The next thing I knew, I was in Cameron’s arms. He caught me! I thought with delight. There was silence. Mrs. July came and pulled us apart. “I don’t think you’ll be Xiamen, Juniper.” I sighed. 

“Wait, Juniper!” Cameron caught up to me. “I’m sorry!” I blurted as I turned around, miserable. “I want to be Xiamen and I’m sorry I tripped onto you and I really just want to get the part so I can spend more time with you!” I gasped. Oh, no. I can’t believe I said that! Cameron chuckled. He slipped his hands onto mine and said, “me too.” 

My mom parked in front of London Browne Theater, grande and fancy, a movie theater. I was getting ready to get out of the car, borrowing my mom’s old red dress and purse, makeup on me, ready to go. My hair was longer, I was now Juniper, I was fancy and almost had Cameron as my real-life boyfriend. I even started sitting with the popular girls. I’d signed up for cheerleading tryouts, too. What else did I need? I stopped when I heard faint sobbing. “Mom?” I said in Chinese. “I’m-I’m just so happy my child’s growing up,” she stammered. I reached out a newly manicured hand and dried her tears. “Mom,” I said, not knowing what to say. She looked at me, mascara running down her face. “I’m sorry that me and your father, we don’t make lots of money. Your grandparents are true. I’m sorry that we couldn’t make the best life for you.” I held back tears. “Oh, Mom,” I whispered. 

“Hi,” Cameron said. “Ready to go?” I giggled. “Yup.” We held hands as we went into the theater. 

About halfway through the movie, Cameron slipped his arm on top of my shoulder. I leaned into his. I was right before. What else did I need for a perfect life? 

The next day I woke up with a start. My phone ringed. I called Grandpa and Grandma. They lived in Seattle. “Hi Grandpa, Grandma.” I greeted them politely. “You doing well? I heard from your mother you got into cheerleading and got a new boyfriend.” Grandma stated. I laughed. “Yeah, that’s true. What else do I need for a perfect life? I mean, Mom’s sad she’s a bartender, but I don’t care that much now. She doesn’t need to get so emotional about it.” I shrugged. Grandpa furrowed his brows. “What you need for a perfect life is three things: family, being humble, and being mature. That cheerleading/boyfriend stuff is nonsense.” They hung up. I thought about it for a long time. 

The next day I called Cameron and told him I was quitting the drama club. “I don’t think I can hang out with you more. I’m too busy.” Truth was, I didn’t like drama club that much. I told Coach Chaco that I was quitting cheer. I told Sarah I wasn’t going to the mall with them. Instead, I went to Mom and Dad and apologized. When we were going to go eat breakfast with light hearts, I stopped walking to the dining room, and rushed upstairs. “One more call to make!” I called after me. I called everybody i knew. And do you know what I said? 

“Just so you know, my name’s Kingsley, not Juniper.”