STUPID SHOES

A sound bounced off a thousand ceramic tiles. It came to my ears as hello—drawn out and smooth; taking longer at the end than at the beginning. The sound wanted to be answered.

Shh. Don’t say anything. Don’t even breathe. It’s the big girls—the cool girls—the eighth grade girls. They’ll tease you. They’ll beat you up. They can see your stupid shoes. Pull up your feet. Keep your balance. Don’t fall off. Don’t fall in. Holy cow—you have some hairy knees. I hate your hairy knees. I hate your stupid shoes. Which reminds me—I hate your stupid uniform. It matches your stupid shoes.

A sound bounced off a thousand ceramic tiles. Once again, it came to my ears as hello—drawn out and smooth; longer at the end than at the beginning. More intense than before, the sound was offering a second chance.

Shh. There it goes again. It’s the big girls—the cool girls—the eighth grade girls. Don’t make a peep or they’ll make fun of you. They’re probably here to smoke a cigarette, or talk about boys, or talk about their boobies. You don’t have boobies. You just have place holders. You’re actually pretty goofy looking. Red hair and freckles—your teeth don’t fit your face. You have big ears. No wonder people tease you. Sure, your mom says you’ll be beautiful when you grow up, but she probably crosses her fingers. I don’t blame her. I’d cross my fingers too—telling a whopper like that.

A sound bounced off a thousand ceramic tiles. No vowels this time—just two clicks. The first click brought darkness. The other click brought stillness. No more hellos. The sound had taken action.

Shh. It’s the big girls—the cool girls—the eighth grade girls. Don’t move a muscle. They know you’re here. They can hear your heart pounding. They’re trying to scare you. They’re laughing at you. They’re gonna tease you. They might even beat you up. They’re gonna see your Barbie underwear. How embarrassing. Stay still. Stay silent. Put your head on your hairy knees and close your eyes.

A sound bounced off a thousand ceramic tiles. It came to my ears as ringing air—constant and empty. The sound was abundant and lonely, yet reassuring.

So, exactly how long are you planning to wait here, squatting in the dark with your stupid shoes and your hairy knees, listening to the air? There’s nobody in here. Put your feet down. Put your stupid shoes back on the floor. Pull up your panties. Pull the latch. Step out. Take a look around. See? There’s nobody. You’re pathetic. Now, let’s get out of here. Walk to the door. Open it. Come on—open it. Try it again. Pull harder. Pull one more time. Well, that’s just great. Now look what you’ve done. It wasn’t the big girls—the cool girls—the eighth grade girls. It was Sister Margaret. How could you be so dumb? Why didn’t you just say hello? Why didn’t you let her see your stupid shoes? Your mom will come to pick you up soon. She won’t find you. Maybe she’ll worry. What if she won’t? Bang on the door. Bang harder. Nobody hears you. Get on your hairy knees. Look under the door. Look through the crack under the door. Watch the surface of the sidewalk. Look for other people’s stupid shoes. Yell.

A sound bounced off a thousand ceramic tiles. It came to my ears as hello—vowels drawn out and ragged; taking longer at the end than at the beginning. The sound desperately wanted to be answered.

You’re gonna have to yell louder than that. What if you die in here? Hairy knees and Barbie underwear—you’ll die goofy looking. You’ll die wearing stupid shoes. You’ll die with place holders and teeth that don’t fit your face. Looks like you’ll never grow up. Looks like your mom’s off the hook. Stop crying. You’re pathetic. Keep looking for stupid shoes. Oh, look—over there—stupid shoes. It’s the big girls—the cool girls—the eighth grade girls. Yell again. Maybe they’ll hear you. Yell as loud as you can.

A sound bounced off a thousand ceramic tiles. It came to my ears as hello—vowels drawn out and ragged; longer at the end than at the beginning. More intense than before, the sound was begging for a second chance.

 
Copyright 2010, 2011, 2012  Piper Donlevy, all rights reserved
www.piperdonlevy.wordpress.com
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4 thoughts on “STUPID SHOES

  1. kitty says:

    Your mom did not lie to you.

  2. Rachel says:

    Wow Amy. This writing is great! I love how you repeat the line, “A sound bounced off a thousand ceramic tiles. It came to my ears as hello.” It really made me feel like someone was there saying it… trying to get my attention. :o)

    • amywhidden says:

      Rachel – I’ve been trying like MAD to find your blog on Networked so I can follow . . . send me your NetworkedBlogslink!!!!

      • Rachel says:

        Sorry… I just saw this message. I don’t really use my Networked Blogs follower thingy. I’ll try to get it set up for you wordpress folks. I’m happy to see you found my facebook fan page though. :o)

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