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墨書 Inktalez
Because of insomnia, I overslept the next day.
Anxiously, I stood by the Main Road, my eyes fixed on the long line of cars, silently praying for them to move quickly. I noticed that I was still wearing those worn-out shoes, and the more I looked at them, the more displeased I felt. My feet were uncomfortable inside them, so I unconsciously wiggled my toes in an attempt to ease the discomfort.
A dump truck sped by in front of me, kicking up dust that landed on my already filthy shoes. The black surface was so dirty it couldn’t get any worse. I frowned slightly, a hint of disdain crossing my face.
Suddenly, I felt that my fate was no different from those shoes—exhausted yet forced to face reality, struggling painfully in an unchangeable situation. I wanted to leave but had to stay, filled with helplessness and inner turmoil.
By the time I arrived at school, I was already late. I was the last one to arrive; fortunately, the teacher wasn’t there yet. My classmates were scattered around their seats, chatting lazily, and the classroom was filled with noise.
I quietly lightened my footsteps, keeping my head down as I made my way to my seat, trying not to attract attention. My heart raced in my chest, afraid of the strange looks from my classmates.
But my skin collected burning gazes from all directions; everyone was staring at me as if I were wearing nothing today. My face felt hot with embarrassment, wishing I could find a crack in the ground to hide in.
"Nice shoes! Where did you buy them?" It was the voice of a girl whose dad often went to Hong Kong. She spoke with a hint of mockery, her eyes scanning me up and down.
"I’ve never seen shoes with holes before. Is that a new style?"
"They’re just hanging out at home! They’re still wet!" someone chimed in.
Laughter erupted around me, sharp and piercing. "So that’s how it is." "Hahaha..."
The mocking voices rang loudly in my ears as I stood frozen in place, my feet feeling as if they were nailed to the ground. I didn’t know which foot to move first to avoid provoking even more laughter. My hands clutched tightly at the hem of my shirt, my nails nearly digging into my skin.
I felt as if I had been thrown into the ocean, waves crashing against my eardrums, drowning out all sounds in an instant. My attention zeroed in on one person.
In that moment, I was certain that my pupils burned with the flames of anger, fixed intently on him.
He lowered his head in silence, his face flushed like a faded red balloon, tinged with a hint of pallor. His hands nervously rubbed the hem of his shirt, his body trembling slightly.
"Hey! Why are you still standing there? Get back to your seat!" The teacher, clutching a textbook, strode toward the podium and shot me a disapproving glance.
"Don't blame her, teacher. She went to get her shoes repaired this morning," a girl chimed in, reveling in the attention. A smug smile adorned her face as she winked at the classmates around her.
As soon as she finished speaking, a ripple of laughter erupted. Students whispered among themselves, pointing fingers at me.
I calmly shrugged off my backpack and tightened my grip on the straps. I charged toward that girl and hurled my backpack at her, the weight of it crashing against her smug face. She let out a shriek, her expression morphing into one of shock.
The sunlight bathed me in warmth like a cozy coat, yet I felt icy all over. Just moments ago, I had been scolded harshly in the Disciplinary Office; the dean had even mentioned calling my parents, saying that it was serious for a girl to hit someone.
Little did they know that I acted because my dignity was being trampled upon. With my worn-out shoes, I could never reach the lofty heights of others' respect, leaving me filled with resentment and indignation.
Just a short distance away, he hung his head low, looking dejected as he repeatedly apologized to me, his voice trembling with guilt.
"I'm sorry. I only mentioned your shoes while joking with them; I didn't expect them to say those things about you."
"Is it funny that my shoes have holes?" My tone was icy as I stared directly at him, as if trying to see through him.
"It's my fault," he defended himself. "But you deceived me too."
"What did I deceive you about?" I retorted, feeling a surge of anger as I placed my hands on my hips, leaning slightly forward to glare at him.
He mumbled, "It's about what you said regarding the Nike shoes."
Hearing this, I realized how foolish it was to have feelings for such a cowardly man. I felt a wave of regret and self-reproach wash over me, my teeth grinding together in frustration.
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