My Perfect Pair of Jeans

By: Sarah Moody

Have you ever had a day that you though would have only happened to you? Well, for me, today was one of those days. I woke up this morning, and got ready like I would any other school day; except, instead of pulling on my old faded pair of jeans, I put on my new pair of jeans. They were that dark, deep blue and were stitched with pure perfect white thread. These jeans were nice and cost a lot of money, usually. But miserly me got my pair at a thrift store and consequently saving 40 bucks. Can you say score or what? I precisely picked out a shirt that would go with my jeans, without stealing the spotlight from them. I wanted all the focus to be on my jeans and the perfect way they hugged my butt.

I walked into school and everyone was looking at me! At ME! They pointed and whispered to their friends. I could only imagine what they were saying, "Look at Mary, her jeans are so cute. I have to get a pair just like that!" Smiling to myself, I strutted my stuff. I was the model, the hallway was my runway, and I owned it, feeling hotter than I have ever felt before.

Unbeknownst, to me, however, there had been a small leak from one of the water fountains causing a small, indistinct puddle on the floor. And if you have ever strutted your stuff before, you know that when mixed with water it can create disastrous results. So, of course, I fell. If there had been a cavern beneath me, it would have been reminiscent of Gandalf the Grey falling in Lord of the Rings. Fortunately, there wasn't a cavern, but there were twenty billion people in the hallway since it was passing period and nobody goes to class early. So everyone saw, and soon the whispers grew to a dull roar around me.

"Hey, you okay?" a hand came in my line of vision. I looked up into dark blue eyes that mirrored my jeans. Oh! My heart skipped a few beats. It was John Johnson, the cutest guy in the whole entire school! I personally believed he was the cutest guy in the whole world, but that's just me. He had a black mustang, leather jacket and he could give Superman a run for his money in the looks department. His smile could make any girl (or guy, for that matter) turn into a pile of goo at his feet. I was no exception and my faced turned redder than a habanaro pepper.

"I'm fine," I said, embarrassed, reaching out to take his hand. He pulled me up to my feet. "Thanks," I murmured.

"No problem," he said smiling. "Are you sure you're okay, though? Don't have a concussion or anything? I can take you to the nurse, if you want?"

I laughed, "No, my butt broke the fall, not my head, so I'm good. Might have a few bruises, but I promise I'm good," I smiled at him. I was so embarrassed that John Johnson saw me wipe out in front of the entire school population. I did not want to make matters worse by having him escort me to the nurse's office. I am not a damsel in distress. Well I do fall a lot, and I mean a lot, but that doesn't make me damsel in distress material. I don't want to be known as a damsel in distress – unless there is a knight (secretly a prince charming) in the picture then I'll definitely be his damsel in distress.

"If you're sure then," he said giving me a second chance to take his offer. I shook my head in response. "Okay, then," he replied smiling. "I'll see you around." He stated walking off, leaving me and my bruised ego (and butt!) behind.

He stopped.

"Oh, I forgot to tell you," he said turning back around, "the tags are still on your jeans." He waved goodbye again as I looked down. Not only were the tags on my jeans but they clearly showed I had gotten them at a thrift store, not a department store. They showed my size in bright red letters and they showed how much I paid. Now this may seem like no big deal, but if you went to the school I went to, you would know that people did not merely judge you based on the clothes you wore but how much you paid for them, and most importantly, where you got them. And, of course, this would only happen to me!