Last week, I found a book in my attic of names and their meanings and origins. Actually, it wasn't in my attic, I don't have an attic. It was in the back of the linen closet. But it's so much cooler to begin a story with the main character finding a book in the attic.

After finding the book, the main character generally has to do something with it. Sadly, this book didn't take me on a magical adventure or give me the key to a terrible family secret. So I looked up all my friends and family.

My sister's name is Saturday, which is an American name meaning "Born on a Saturday."

Well, duh.

Funny thing is, she was born on a Tuesday. My parents just loved weekends so much that they named their firstborn child Saturday. You can see where I get my quirkiness.

My mom's name is Hilary, which means "cheerful." Apparently, it's Greek. That fits her a lot more than Sat's name does.

My dad's name, Dean, is English and means "from the valley." Maybe he was born in a valley, but I'm not sure. I think he was named after a relative.

And I'm Nina, which is Spanish meaning "little girl." I decided that's not true, because there should be… something squiggly over the 'N'. I think. So it's not. Nina does not mean anything like "little girl" (because who wants their name to mean 'little girl'?) It means…

Quirky.

So, I went to school the next day like a normal girl my age, and told everyone that my name meant quirky. But nobody believed me, sadly enough, and they all insisted that I bring the book to school the next day as proof. So I went home and started scratching on the ink. I was hoping to rub off the definition so that I could rewrite it, but I didn't.

Instead, my fingernail sliced right through the page. After about twenty minutes of scratching, so I guess it didn't "slice right through" but that sounds cooler.

After that, I decided to go type up the entire page and glue it over the real one, with the only difference being that my name was defined as quirky.

I like the word quirky, so it's a good definition. I think that your name should only mean something that's a cool word, or that you think is a cool word. Quirky is one of those words that just sounds funny, no matter what it means. Or whose name it means.

I've been wondering if this thing I'm doing, with changing the definition of my name, is really morally right. I mean, there are probably a lot of people out there named "Nina." What if they don't all want to be called quirky? To some people, it might even be considered offensive. And what if the word spreads that "Nina" means "Quirky" and some poor little girl named Nina who isn't quirky at all spends the rest of her life trying to live up to the name that I accidentally bestowed on her? And then, because Quirkiness has become such a desirable trait for "Nina"s, this poor little hypothetical Nina decides to enter the annual Quirkiness competition. She thinks she'll win, see, because her name's Nina, which means Quirky, so she's practically guaranteed.

Only Quirkiness can't be bestowed upon you just because your name is Nina. No, Quirkiness is something you have to work at. And this poor little hypothetical Nina loses the Quirkiness competition because, after all, she never was very Quirky at all, and people just said she was Quirky because she was a Nina.

And now poor hypothetical Nina has spent her entire life trying to be Quirky because that's her name, only to find out that she isn't a hypothetical Quirky Nina at all, but simply an ordinary, hypothetical, Nina. Her hopes and dreams have been crushed and she will spend the rest of her life wishing that she was Quirkier. And it would be all my fault!

You know, I think that the word Quirky, as it has such an important role in my life, should be capitalized. And I don't care if my English teacher would disagree.

But, back on topic, I decided to go type up the page from the name-book. While I was typing, Sat came in and turned on the TV.

"What'cha doin'?" she asked. Sat would insist that I spell it the way she said it, because… she just does. She's ten, and very stubborn about details like these.

"I'm typing up a page from a book of names and their definitions so I can replace the page that says my name means 'Little Girl'."

"What're you gonna say it means?"

"Quirky."

"Oh. Duh."

There was a short, comfortable pause as I continued to type. All of the other names, I decided, would remain the same. The TV changed stations from a soap opera, to some weird-looking science fiction show, to finally stop at the weather station. From this, I guessed my sister was about to say something, because otherwise she might be paying attention to what she was watching.

"Whaz my name mean?" Sat asked finally.

I looked at her and attempted to raise one eyebrow at her stupidity. She quite calmly informed me that I looked like a constipated rat. Sat was always telling me that I looked like a constipated rat.

"Fine. Maybe I won't tell you what your name means, if that's how you're going to be," I snapped.

"I 'ready know what my name means."

"Then why'd you ask?"

"'Cause."

I decided not to ask any further, as that conversation would inevitably lead into "Because because." "Because because why?" "Because because because." and so on. Because is a weird-looking word.

"I wish I'd been born on a Saturday," she said finally.

"Why's that?"

"'Cause tomorrow's Tuesday, and I don't wanna be associated with Tuesday, 'cause Tuesdays stink."

"You think so?"

"They're worse'n anything. 'Cept Mondays."

"I hate Mondays."

"'N I hate Tuesdays."

We left it at that.


A/N All research on names was done online, I don't know the reliability of the website I used, so I'm not going to claim that any definitions are right. Except Sat's, I'm pretty sure about that one. Anyway, enjoy. And can anyone tell me why my computer says that "all my fault" is grammatically incorrect and should be "my entire fault"?!