The Girl with the Squeaky Shoes | Teen Ink

The Girl with the Squeaky Shoes

November 28, 2016
By Crashlyn GOLD, Hemet, California
Crashlyn GOLD, Hemet, California
12 articles 0 photos 2 comments

Her heart pounded against her chest as her arms banged against the rude ignorant shoulders of careless people. Her shoes squeaked brightly amongst the looming darkness in the commons she walked through. So many windows yet no light. The people had eyes as light as feathers yet heavy with life. The sound of shoes pittering, pattering, chattering against the hard concrete floor. She walked past the crowd and into her safe asylum of a lunch table. The sound pounded against the clear rigid walls, shooting over the top of her quiet bubble of a table, launching its pulsating headaches at other groups that were susceptible to it. She plunged her hand into her overloaded gray backpack, searching blindly for her brown lunch sack. The girl with the squeaky shoes pulled out the drooping brown bag, filled with a sandwich and a few grapes as a snack. She grabbed the turkey sandwich out, her stomach growling angrily with hunger at the sight of food. The sandwich was like heaven compared to the school lunches she used to eat. The girl nodded at her friends’ conversations, noticing them trying to talk to her, but she didn’t have much interest in the topic. The girl watched the people as they ate with their mouths full, or yelled loudly across the table when the person was less than a foot away. She gazed across the school, wondering how everyday, it was all the same. Everyone in the same place, with the same old lunch in the same lunch pale or brown bag. Some chose the half cartons of school lunch, a few chose to make their own food, and the skinny ones didn’t eat at all. They were all accustomed to the dull drag the day, pulling yourself to each class, the fly in second period that wouldn’t stop bugging you, or even the group of girls that stood by the steps, wishing for guys to accompany them. Yet she just ate her lunch, despite feeling such hate for the normality of school. Her sandwich saddened as she ate it, its contents spilling out the sides. The ear-piercing bell rang through the school, signaling the end of first lunch. Next lunch will be an exact duplicate. The sounds of people will drone on through the outside plaza, carrying secrets and candy whispers to their hungry ears, itching for a chance to spread the new gossip. The girl simply passed by, ignoring any rude looks or questioning stares that were obviously directed at her. She walked and walked until she reached the commons, trying to find her way through the maze of people to the entrance to the main building. Her shoes squeaked and squeaked as she walked, as her arms banged against the rude ignorant shoulders of careless people.

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