At this point in my life, I respond to almost any name that starts with the letter k. From Kathy to Kate, and Katrina to Katie, the nicknames I have received over the past 16 years are endless. Only once have I ever had a nickname that is associated with my last name. Thompson, the classic Scottish name based on a “Son of Thomas.” Although it is not a unique name that jumps out to anyone, over the course of one day it was that old, boring name that started to define me.

It was Sunday, September 13th of 2020 and after two gruesome days of competitive volleyball tryouts, I had made varsity as a sophomore. Making varsity was a challenge within itself; however, being accepted as a part of the team was entirely different. In high school, we have to earn our spot on the court and at that time I thought whether I played or not defined me as a person. The constant glances I  received from seniors worried about their playing time or the glares from the girls my age who were placed on JV. The sweet feeling of making varsity was equally counteracted by the bitterness surrounding the idea of an underclassman stealing the senior’s spots. The scale was not in my favor, and I immediately felt as if I would have no role on the team, but that’s just how it was going to be.

Until Sophie approached me. Beside her stood our star junior outside hitter Madi and the senior captain Jade. Out of the three of them, Jade scared me the most. Not because she was mean, but she controlled the team and therefore controlled my role. 

As Sophie approached me she shouted, “Katherine we are going to give you a nickname.”

I blandly responded with “Ok.”

I try to smile and break the awkwardness while the three of them stare at me, analyzing me until they can pull a nickname out of the long three-syllable word, Katherine. 

“My club teammates call me Kathy.” I blurt out. I immediately regret it as I would rather not have the whole student section chanting Kathy at our games. It sounds like the name of a grandmother who knits and bakes in her free time.

“Yeah, I’m not too sure about that one,” Madi chimes in. She knew that name would be ugly in high school.

“What about your last name?” Jade adds. I was surprised to hear her talk or even want to be a part of the conversation based around my nickname. I was debating on whether she was just trying to be nice or if she actually cared.

“Thomp. Son. Thomp. Son.” This had to go on for three minutes as Sophie sounded out the syllables of my last name. The blank look on her face said it all. I would have no nickname and would just blend in as a nobody. 

The photographer pulled me over to take my individual shots and before the first flash of the camera I heard, “TOMMY!” Sophie trudged over next to me as I am about to take my photos. “We will call you Tommy!” 

I simply responded with my same bland “Ok.” However from that moment on, deep down that nickname told me I was a part of the team. It was the simple name that gave me a sense that I mattered both on and off the court. With a smile bigger than the ocean, those photographs contain my pure joy and happiness from that day. That was the day my last name started to define me.