Everyone else has pairs and pairs of fashionable shoes. Why am I always different?
I
t’s the Veja sneakers that are really the last straw. We have our school’s end-of-year, three-day hike coming up and I need another pair of shoes. Unfortunately, Mom and Abba think otherwise.
“We’re sorry, honey,” Mom says, leaning forward over the array of dirty cereal bowls, “but we just don’t think you need another pair. You already have four pairs of shoes in perfect condition.”
“But everyone has two pairs of sneakers for the hike!” I explode, making the milk vibrate in the bottle. Abba sighs from the doorway. Mom sighs at the table. I pull back my chair and storm out.
I march my way past the piles of baby toys in the hallway, up the stairs which desperately need a vacuum (we don’t have a cleaning lady), and through my bedroom door. I feel like screaming. Everyone else has designer knapsacks. Everyone else has real Shabbos earrings. Everyone else has pairs and pairs of fashionable shoes. Why am I always different?
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