Something Nice | Teen Ink

Something Nice

November 16, 2007
By Anonymous

I flew into the house, ready to be as far away from the world as possible. Sweat dripped from my face, and I tried hard to avoid tears from following behind. The house is quiet as I ventured a short distance to my small bedroom. Why must people make fun of me? I’m only human. A nine year old should not have to go through this. Everyday it seemed as if I was being tortured with no where to go or no one to turn. There was however, someone who I knew I could talk with to make it all better, and that person is my mom.

My tired body lifted from the bed and walked upright in search of my mom. She takes care of my brother and me on her own, although she is sick and unable to work. Despite her sweet and caring personality, my mother still struggles in life. My father is around once in a blue moon.

“Hey baby, I didn’t even see you come in.” she said. She was in the bedroom, her eyes glued to the local paper which looked to be quite interesting. Her eyes then made their way to mine, and she read my expression like a book.

“What’s the matter?” She asked.

“The kids at school, they always joke me because I don’t have any nice clothes. And they be mean to me and always want to fight me.” I replied.

“Now look. It does not matter what you wear, it’s what’s on the inside that counts. You are very smart and I know you’re a good person.” My mom said. She then began telling me of the days in school when she too could not afford nice things. I began to feel sad.

The next day at school was better. I came home with my feelings not all in a bunch as usual. When someone tried to say something mean to me, I drowned them out with happy thoughts. I entered my home and plopped down next to my mother on the couch. I laid my head on her chest, and absorbed her motherly love.

“I have something for you.” She said. I stared up at her, and an older reflection of me gazed back. She smile and her rosy cheeks began to show. My mom had a slender face and a small body because of the sickness, but she was still beautiful. My mother held her smile, the whiteness of her teeth glowing. I was anxious to see my surprise, so I got up and walked into the room. Lying on my bed was a pretty white shirt with black designs, and some blue jeans to match. I smiled, and ran to thank her.

“Don’t you need the money for other things?” I asked.

“Yes.” She said and then added, “But it doesn’t hurt to have something nice.”

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