*They all came at once, like a pack of angry wildebeests. Their thin blonde hair hid their faces as the wind blew from the South. Every boy on the block stopped, turning to catch a glimpse of the beauties walking down the street. I myself kept my face down, knowing that I could never join their group. My dark skin and black hair only sealed my fate. Well, I never stared at their faces, or their skimpy skirts and immodest shirts. I only noticed the beautiful red shoes, gleaming like rubies in the faint sunlight. I looked down at my own feet in despair. They still sported the same faded purple Vans I had received as a birthday present four years ago. Why could I not possess shoes like those?
And then comes the matter of their dress. They wear white everyday to school as well as crosses, though some of the girls practice Judaism. No boy every tries to asks them to prom or to the high school banquet. Why? Someone who fills their locker with pictures of saints and God kind of wards off any guys who come on fresh. Though they are openly religious and promote Christianity on campus, in the midst of hundreds of students of other religions, these girls still dress as if they just came back from going clubbing in Vegas. They are the ultimate paradox.
No one can penetrate their tight knit clique, even if they claimed to be the daughter of the king of the entire universe. As Shakespeare said “Give me your hands if we be friends, and let Robin restore amends.” They don’t believe that old friends are gold, and new ones are silver. Only old friends exist, no one else. I never took notice of them at all, until they started to accessorize their otherwise plain outfit with those wonderful red shoes.