A Bad Day in the World of Smelly Socks and Ugly Uniforms

**I wrote this as a paper for Language Arts. I'm too lazy to change the names.


Middle School. That’s where the labels start. Ugly, pretty, smart, dumb, fat, skinny. You get the idea, right? Well on top of labels there are dividers. Seventh Grader, Sixth Grader, Eighth Grader, fat kid, skinny kid, pretty kid, ugly kid.

Labels and dividers are the same, I guess. Your label determines on which side of the divider you stand. Unlike dividers though, labels are permanent. Think of it this way: Labels are tattoos; they always hurt to get, and they’re hard to get rid of. Dividers are like stone walls; some are tall and thick, some are thin and short, but all keep us apart. They also wear down over time; no one can hold a grudge forever.

Divider wise, I don’t know where I stand. I’m certainly not pretty, but I’m not hideous either. I’m not a 4.0 GPA student, but I’m not in any of the “extra help” classes. What I do know is that I stand on the sixth grade side of the spectrum.

And personally, I don’t have any big dividers. Or, at least, I didn’t until last Thursday in Gym Class.

Usually, gym is all smelly socks and unflattering, blue and gray (and equally smelly) uniforms. Usually, at the start of the class period, I talk with Coral about stupid nonsense; Coral has been my best friend since Kindergarten. Usually, we do jumping jacks in sit ups in neat little rows. Usually, a thick, navy curtain cleanly separates us from the seventh graders.

But today was not “usually” to the same extent as it normally was. The curtain was not there. The savior of a curtain was not there; I was left staring straight into the coercing eyes of the seventh graders. Some of them were chatting mindlessly with their friends, but others were glaring at us with such intensity you’d figure we’d murdered their parents or something.

I turned to face Coral, but even when I wasn’t watching them, I could feel their eyes burning into me, as if they were “looking into my soul”, or something cheesy like that.

Five gruelingly boring minuets later, Mrs. Williams and Mr. Peat called us to sit in the middle of the gym--seventh graders and all. Coral and I walked obediently over to the designated seating area and we were, once again, staring face to face with the seventh graders.

Ordinarily, I’m not easily intimidated, but now it was different. First of all, all the girls were at least somewhat prettier and skinnier then I was, and on top of that, they all had this aura about them; you could just tell they were the “it” girls.

The two gym teachers argued in hushed tones for a few minutes, leaving us all to fend for ourselves. The seventh graders mostly ignored us, but there was some sort of edge to their ignorance that made me angry. It was the kind of ignoring you that seemed planned out; the kind that you and your friends would all discuss and agree on. It was the kind where every once and a while, their eyes dart toward you, as if checking that your watching them, making sure that you feel discluded from their minority.

After the gym teachers seemed to come to peace with their argument, Mrs. Williams spoke out in a confident, practiced tone. “Today we’ll be playing Knock-Out, five on five half-court games, or Gladiator Ball.” She paused, and Mr. Peat began an explanation of Gladiator Ball. Some of the boys nodded excitedly, but most of the girls disregarded his explanation by looking at their nails, or playing with their hair.

It appeared I’d spaced out for a good five minuets, because the next thing I heard was a “Come on, Buddy!” from my porcelain faced best friend, Coral Ottesen.

The next thing I knew, I was being pulled into a game of Knock-Out by none other than Coral, whom I normally refer to simply as “Buddy.”

I entered the game of Knock-Out smoothly, scoring a basket on the first try. I transitioned to the end of the line, shuffling in right behind five seventh grade girls, whom I shall refer too as mean girls’ #1- 5. Mean girl one was a slim, dark-skinned girl with a short patch of rough looking black hair. Mean girl two was also dark-skinned, but wore her hair up in an odd twist. Mean girl three was a tall girl with her gorgeous blonde hair pinned up in a messy bun at the back of her head. Mean girl four was an athletic looking girl with a mane of fiery red curls. The last mean girl was an acne-ridden preteen with a head of long, brown waves. The Mean Girls all wore their uniforms bunched up right above their bellybuttons, showing off their undershirts. It bothered me that they could pull of looking good in a gym uniform.

Mean girls one through four gave me dirty looks as I entered the line. After giving me a brief glare, they went back to whispering amongst themselves.

Buddy made it in after me, and joined me in line. They also gave Buddy the Mean Girl glare, and then once again began their whispering. I could feel the spite in their tone as they whispered and gave me and Buddy sidelong glances.

Soon enough, it was my turn again. This time I got out, and as I was heading off the court to sit with the other people who got out, Mean Girl One sent her biting words after me, “You’re out.”

A gave her a glare right back and saddled myself next to Cassie. By the time Buddy came to join us, Cassie and I had already begun an enthralling game of patty-cake.

When Buddy joined us, she looked angry and frustrated. Her porcelain face was red and splotchy, and her oceans colored eyes were filled with tears. “What’s wrong, Buddy?” I asked, frowning. Cassie also frowned. “The mean girls told me I was out, even though I wasn’t. They were being mean to me the entire time.” Her voice was thick and high-pitched from the tears.

Outrage rushed through me. I couldn’t believe they’d made Coral cry. They’d made my best friend cry. That was not okay.

So I marched right up to those girls and told them off. “Listen, you don’t tell my friends that they’re out when they’re not. You don’t glare at my friends. You’re not mean to my friends. Got it?” I growled, the words spilling out of me like water from a water faucet.

The Mean Girl’s mouths gaped wide open, seeming in disbelief that they were just put in their place by an underclassman.

When I returned to my friends, I was greeted by high fives all around. Buddy wasn’t crying anymore, but her eyes were still puffy from crying.

I learned something relatively important that day. Now to end this story correctly (the cheesy, What I Learned way) I should probably tell you what I learned. Well, what I realized is that no matter how deep a barrier is, it’s always possible to climb over it to slap someone across the face.

ROFL, I love it especially the moral xD way to go!

Thank you!

Awesome. I give it a nine.

:DD Thanks, Ratty!

Wow, I loved that, Mousey! I really liked the way you told it- it made it seem so personal, like I was actually there. Epic job!

You sound exactly like my teacher. xD She said I had good voice, too. Thanks!

OMP(oh my pencil) really epic! 9 is my vote

xD That's awesome! I love how you made me feel like I was actually there. And I love the moral I gave it a 9 ;D

Everyone here is so nice! Thank yoU!

Lol, that was awesome!! xD "Well, what I realized is that no matter how deep a barrier is, it’s always possible to climb over it to slap someone across the face." One word: WOOT. You did a great job!

Thanks Shadz! I wanted to be real about it!

:3 Swelcome! You were!

Very cool story, I like how you started out by explaining the dividers and the labels 9!

Thank you, Jade!

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