A New Wardrobe Is Not Everything

I walked through the school, wearing low high heels, brown, straight points in front, and soft materials. I just got these shoes new. It was my birthday that week before. I loved walking in those shoes. I never thought about how to pair those shoes with good-looking jeans, or any other clothing pieces.

My classmates called me to come to them. As good as a dog, I walked their way. I stood up from the blue chairs, took my orange backpack from the blue tables – which was very heaving from all the books I had to bring with me. I stood up in a bad mood – as I just sat down – and thought: ‘What the hack do they want from me? They never want to talk to me and now they want something? What serious could that be?!’

I sighed and walked off the stage, I walked downstairs and almost fell. With my heavy orange backpack, I walked their way, but from a distance, I could see – them with their arms crossing their body – that they were so serious about this issue. They looked angry as well.

With fear, I walked their way. I stood in front of my locker as well, and the first thing I thought ‘I will lock you up if you are trying to bully me again’ and I sighted and they asked me – in particular the leader of that group – someone of colour – took the lead in that conversation. With her books in her hand, she looked like a stern secretary, pointing a finger at me.

Standing closer to her, I could see on her face that she was up to something. I was naïve, I was hopeful, I was expecting they started to like me again. I said: “What's up?”

They wanted to offer me a new wardrobe. They thought my second-hand clothes were not ‘fashionable’ enough. The one with blond hair in a ponytail said: “Agnes, we need to have a very serious talk with you.” I thought: ‘What now!’ I looked at each of the groups.

Five pairs of eyes scanned me from the top to the bottom. I felt uncomfortable standing in this group of people, teenagers who are just stroking their egos, wanting what they want. I didn’t buy their looks, and I immediately knew something was off.

Still, I had hoped they wanted to like me and be friends with me. None of that was true. One of them continued: “We have seen you walking in those ribbed brown beige floor-length trousers with wide legs, low over the hips, close fitting. It is not fashionable.” Her friend – the leader of the group – told me: “We just want to help you!”

Deeply in my heart I wanted to run away, but as friendly as I wanted to be, I listened to them: “We want to offer you our pocket money to buy you some new fashionable clothes. Then we are going together, to help you choose the right clothes”, the smallest told me with a smile that looked like she didn’t mean it.

I felt I wasted my time. So, I said: “I don't want to have your money to buy me clothes. I have enough clothes I love to wear.” I didn't accept their offer.

They got angry when I walked away and they said: “Yeah dude, run away ungrateful specie.” The blond one put her middle finger in the air and told me I want to be dead (someone else from my classmates told the school that – I wanted to go to the conservatory).

I looked back, my eyes got little and I felt hurt, the pain in my heart – like a big dagger putting the point into my heart – got so much worse. I felt betrayed, I felt horrible, I felt like I couldn’t trust anybody anymore.

Walking upstairs to the classrooms felt heavier than normal like there was a huge stone into my backpack and in my stomach. As I walked through the hall, a few boys – yes, they were boys in their behaviour – thought it would be necessary to call me a "dead lady". At the same time, they gave me a flute concerto in a dramatic bad way. I almost cried, but then, I realised that I didn’t want to give in that easily.

I didn't want them to know how much pain I felt, how much they pointed that knife in my heart, and I love my heart – even with all that pain because they don’t deserve that. That was the first time I thought they didn't deserve all of that, but still, they said: “You can say something!” I did not say a word.

I held my head high—at least in my mental state—and I walked up the other stairs to my classroom on the second floor. And then I fell one step down; ‘That as well!’, I thought. All that went through my mind.

I had still five minutes before the bell rang to start the next classes. I already felt the silence of the group when they stood next to me, scanning me with their eyes, and I felt uncomfortable. Like they could bewitch me any moment. The silence was killing me; 'Are they going to say something or are they remain silent.'

Unfortunately, they exactly said the same: “We have seen you walking in those ribbed brown beige floor-length trousers with wide legs, low over the hips, close fitting. It is not fashionable.” Furious I was: ‘How dare they tell me what to wear!’

Politely I said: “No, thanks! I am not interested.”

Again, they tried to convince me, but I told them no. You cannot buy me friendship with a new wardrobe. A wardrobe isn’t everything!

About the writer

Agnes Laurens is a writer. She writes for the local newspaper. Agnes lives in The Netherlands, with her husband and three daughters. You can find her on Vocal, Medium, Elephant Journal, HubPages, Music List. Writing is — aside from playing the violin — one of her passions since childhood. She is on Twitter and Instagram. You can subscribe to my mailing list, and you can subscribe to my Thoughts. Check out her books. She has an online web store, and she has a merchandise store. If you want to be informed about my online store and my merch, please follow this link.