When I was a freshman in high school, I read somewhere that you either had to be really popular or unpopular to be given a nickname. Seemed true enough to me, and I wanted a nickname. Badly. In English class, we were reading book out loud, and this nerdy, skinny, skittish, black kid with pop-bottle bottom glasses named Scooter said something funny. Everyone busted up. Some kid in class yells, “He’s like Frankie,” (me) and instantly, I had a nickname: “Scooter.” Scoot Scoot” for endearment purposes. I loved the concept but hated the origin. I could not figure out if it dictated my status, and if it did, was I now popular or unpopular? Were people were making fun of me when they called me Scoot Scoot? Did I get the name just because the other kid was black? The name faded within a few months, though. I miss it.
