She was always picked last. Always. It didn’t matter what game they were playing she was the last one picked. And she was tired of it.
Two weeks ago she and her mom had watched The Sandlot. And all she could think was that she needed the shoes, the shoes that would make her run faster and jump higher. Then she would prove to everyone that she wasn’t the loser.
She begged. She bargained. She wheedled. And finally her mom caved. They went to the store and the man in a white and black striped shirt had promised that if any shoes were going to make her run faster or jump higher it was these, the Air Jordans. Her mom couldn’t really afford that kind of money for sneakers, but sometimes parents could get caught up in the dreams of their kids. So the too-expensive Air Jordans were bought and brought home.
The next day she lovingly put them on and laced them up. She went to gym and was picked last, but she expected that. Tomorrow she wouldn’t be picked last. It was a close game and when the teacher yelled “One more minute!” The teams frantically moved the ball around trying to make the final winning basket. Her teammate threw a hail mary pass and she leapt to catch it. But the ball sailed over hands. The class ended and her team lost.
The shoes had failed. She couldn’t run faster or jump higher. The Air Jordans had left her airless.
The next day she waited to be picked for a team. She was the last one. Again.
Prompt from Inspiration Monday. Go check it out to read more stories and find more prompts.