New Shirt

A boy wants to look good

Wade crawled out of bed and put his feet on the ice cold floor. As usual, no one was home in the leaky old shack but him and his hunger. Quickly, he grabbed the clothes he'd worn for the last two weeks, ran to the next room and dressed beside the tiny gas heater.

Jeepers, it's cold!

Searching the filthy kitchen for something to eat, he found one hard slice of bread and ate it in three bites. Then, with his thin rag of a jacket buttoned tight, the eleven year old went outside into the January cold.

I hope I find a lot of scrap metal today, so I can buy me a new shirt. I saw one at Mrs. Clawson's used clothes that I really like.

The small town was just a mile away, and Wade trotted there in minutes. The alleys behind the stores were where he might find various bits of copper, brass, or scrap iron. Seventeen cents a pound for brass, nineteen cents for copper, and one half cent per pound for iron--it was pitiful little money, except to a kid who had none.

Oh, boy! Grissom's hardware has a bunch of trash laid out!

Diligent searching soon revealed a burned copper extension cord and a piece of brass from a commode.

Wow! These ought to bring about a dime. Heh-heh, I love it when I hit the jackpot.

After five hours, Wade headed to Harvey's scrap metal business with a tote sack over his shoulder that weighed nearly as much as he did. Once there, Harvey weighed the various bits of iron, copper, and brass, then paid Wade accordingly. (Wade was a regular customer, so the old man didn't fuss that some of the copper wire still had its insulation on)

Oh, goody--a dollar and 11 cents! Now I can buy that shirt I saw at Mrs. Clawson's.

That following Monday morning, Wade jumped out of bed, got dressed and went off to school. Wearing the same dirty jeans and coat, he left the top three coat buttons undone, so the world could see his beautiful new shirt sticking out. Strutting all seven blocks, he knew he looked good.

Just wait till Mrs. Stewart sees me in this shirt. I know she'll like it. Helen will like it, too.

Wade didn't wait until he'd entered the classroom before removing his coat, and marched proudly through the hallways with his short-sleeved, brightly-colored Hawaiian shirt in full view of all. Some girls smiled when they saw him, but others made faces. Darren Mills told Wade, "Man, people will see you comin' a mile away in that!"

Heh-heh, Darren sure likes my shirt.

All day long, teachers and kids raised their eyebrows at the site of Wade. Some would say, "What a great shirt", or something such, but most said nothing.

I didn't know how great clothes can make you feel. The kids who have nice, clean clothes to wear every day must feel like this all the time.

Wade wore the shirt the next day and the next. And the next.

No one wants to say nice things about my shirt anymore. I wonder why?

That Friday after school, as Wade walked home, Darren Mills attacked him. "I hate this damned shirt!" he screamed, then ripped it off of him and stomped on it. Holding back tears, Wade picked up the remains and went toward home.

Darren always has nice clothes, so I don't know why he didn't want me to have this shirt.

Wade felt more worthless than ever, and kicked at rocks as he walked.

I guess I'm not supposed to have anything nice, and will never be as good as the other kids. I am a Johnson, after all.

Author's Note

Inspired by actual events.

Reviews

[Lorry]

I'd like to say how far we've advanced as a race Samuel, but sometimes it feels like we're going backwards in certain aspects.
Just another idiot taking his bad day out on an easy target. The saddest thing is, the bully wouldn't even remember it amongst the many he'd deny, but the victim will never forget.
Your tale tells more than the sum of its parts here, so succinctly and well done.

[Samuel Dickens]

Thank you. No one actually tore the shirt off of me, though I imagine a few wanted to. The teachers were probably just sad to see me wear that inappropriate shirt day after day.

[Desert Knave]

Very stark and scary. People can be so mean, and when you have never been instilled with a sense of self-worth it is easy to believe you actually have none. ~Jim

[Samuel Dickens]

Thanks, Jim. Feeling worthless and inferior is a terrible weight to drag around.

[Jennie Baron]

I'm so soft-hearted; this really got to me. The unfairness, I suppose. And the way you convey it is masterful. I haven't visited your work in a while, which has truly been an omission.

[Samuel Dickens]

Thank you. No worries, Jennie--I don't keep score.

[R Smith]

good story Samuel, sad it was a true story, but this is how we make our work come to life, its a stand out piece, well done.

[Rich13White]

Every wonderful piece of work that I read of yours reminds me of Steinbeck...the brutal honesty, the realism of the American dream for some...and morality, and the need to transcend the obstructions...

[Marie]

That's terrible. I can't help wondering what actua levents must have led to ths. I hope that in the future Wade got better clothes than he could find at a second hand shop.

[Samuel Dickens]

Thanks, Marie. You may remember a similar story, but this one is much more fictionalized.

[Marie]

I do remember a similar story, but this is not it. I would have remembered that ending.

[roarke]

A story reflecting the universe in the bright colors of a short sleeve shirt. You meld setting and inner feeling to perfection. I felt the stomping of the shirt a bit harsh and abrupt, but then that's exactly how the event would come across. So much story in small town lives. Dig your stuff Sam.

[Samuel Dickens]

Thanks a lot, Bill. You might remember a similar story of mine, but this one is much more fictionalized.

[Penlady]

You are a marvelous writer...tug at the heartstrings...