Maybe this wasn’t going to be such a bad place.
“Good morning,” the woman behind the counter said to us.
“Good morning. I called a few weeks ago about our move to Beverly Hills. I’m here to register my daughter, Salem Jones,” my mom explained as she pulled some documents out of a manila folder.
Martinez.
Why hadn’t she said the rest of my last name?
Salem Jones-Martinez.
“Wonderful.” The woman nodded and smiled brightly at me. I managed a smile, though inside I was dying a hundred deaths. “Welcome, Salem. We have your registration packet here.”
The lady set a folder on the counter and opened it, and I quickly scanned the pages to find my name. Salem Jones. Where the fuck was the rest of my name? My dad’s name was missing.
“Go ahead and fill this top portion out with emergency contact info, and I’ll grab her class schedule. Salem’s new counselor reached out to the high school in Chula Vista and obtained her records.” The woman looked at me. “We were able to get you into the exact same classes that you had at your old school.”
I nodded and smiled. That was good, but I was still upset about a major part of me missing from the forms. My mom and I sat down so she could fill out the paperwork.
“Don’t forget to write Martinez at the top,” I said and tried not to sound panicked. She didn’t give me any indication that she'd heard me, so I started to repeat myself. “Mom—”
“Salem, please be quiet so I can finish these.”
“Fine, but add the rest of my last name.”
“It’s not a big deal, Salem. Jones is fine.”
“Mom, no it’s not fine. If it’s not such a big deal, then add Martinez. I’ve always hyphenated my last name. It’s never been an issue. Why are you making this an issue?”
“Sweetheart, we’ve never lived in a place like we do now. People will judge you without knowing you.”
“I don’t care what anyone thinks of me. You’re stupid if you think I’m the only one with a blended family around here.”
My eyes welled up with tears. I couldn’t believe she was purposely leaving off part of my heritage. I had a huge lump in my throat as I thought about my dad.
“Salem, relax,” she warned. “You want to fit in, don’t you?”
“Whatever. I didn’t realize that when you told me we were moving that you wanted me to leave part of myself behind. This is bullshit. If anyone asks my name, I’ll proudly tell them the truth. I can’t believe you want me to be someone I’m not.”
My mom stood and walked back to the counter without saying another word to me. I remained seated while my mom finished at the counter. I was so angry, and I couldn’t wait to tell Selena about this bullshit.
“Here is your class schedule, Salem,” the woman behind the counter said, urging me out of the chair and to the counter to collect the sheet of paper.
When I took it from her, the lady added that if I’d wait a moment, she would have a member of the welcome committee show me around.
“Have a great day at school, honey,” my mom said.
I tried to look past my tears and push the rage in me down while I stared at ‘Salem Jones’ at the top of the class schedule. I forced a fake smile to my mom, hoping she’d get out of my sight.
“I’ll be here after school to pick you up,” she said.
“Should I look for you in our car or Thomas’s?” I jabbed. This morning she felt it was necessary to look the part or fit in, and she’d brought me to school in Thomas’s Escalade.
“Thomas’s SUV, most likely,” Mom said.
Figures.
“Have a good day, sweetie,” she said before she left the school office.
