Muylia’s Socks
Katie, Age 15, Nowata, OK

Once upon a time, there was a girl who never matched her socks. She had many different colored and patterned socks, and though she had some that would make up a pair, she still didn't match them. She tried sometimes, really she did! But they just wouldn't match. It was as if they didn't want to be with those of their own color and pattern. Her own mother would even try to match them, but they wouldn't match... not even for her mother! And you know if something won't work for a mother, it just won't work at all.

Every day the girl, whose name was Muylia, went through the pain of having people tease and make fun of her for her mismatched socks. They called her lazy, and weird, all because her socks wouldn't match. Even her pretty face didn't change the mockery she endured.

One Saturday, her mother asked her to run to the grocery store. So she did—wearing mismatched socks as usual. She was just walking down the candy aisle, when she felt a hand on her shoulder. Startled, she spun around. It was a boy. He wasn't bad looking by any means...but he wasn't looking at her. He was looking at her one neon green sock, and her one purple pinstriped sock. Oh no...he's one of those people who will mock me for my socks. He thinks I'm lazy, and weird, and...and....Tears started to well up in her eyes, and she began walking away. She couldn't take any more mockery.

“No!” the boy said suddenly, reaching out to her.

She turned to look at the boy, fighting the tears.

“Don't go.” He looked into her eyes intently, and caught her hand in his. Taken aback, Muylia tried to pull away.

“I think I should go.” She blinked back some tears at the unspoken mockery.

“Please don't go! I don't even know your name!” He looked into her eyes pleadingly.

“But...I really think I should go. I need to go home. Right now.” She pulled harder, but he held on tightly.

“Could I learn your name first? Please!”

She stared at him a moment. If he was going to mock her anyway, he might as well know her name. “Muylia. My name is Muylia.”

“Muylia...” He repeated it with a dreamy look on his face. “Muylia, I think you're beautiful.”

She became sure that he was a tease.

“Your face, your socks, your name...everything about you is beautiful.”

Her face contorted into a look of pain, and hurt, and a bit of anger. “Who put you up to this?” She demanded.

“Up to what?”

“I...I don't understand.” He was too confused for it not to show on his face.

Muylia's lower lip trembled, and the tears she had been holding back threatened to fall. “I don't either,” she said. Pulling her hand out of his, she continued down the aisle, grabbing a bag of chocolates as she went.

The boy stared after her; his face showed adoration, awe, and confusion. He knew she was the girl for him...but she wouldn't even give him a chance.

As soon as she got home, Muylia ran to her room, where she kicked her shoes off, pulled her socks off, and threw herself down on her bed. With tears streaming down her cheeks, she wadded up the offending mismatched socks and threw them across the room. Why did her socks always make her different? Why? She couldn't help that they wouldn't, couldn't, match! Why should she be treated differently because of them? She tried, and tried, but they wouldn't match! It wasn't a lack of attempts on her part that kept them from matching. It was some unseen force.

After a good ten minutes of tears, chocolates, and whatever else goes with a pity party, Muylia dried her eyes, wiped her nose, smiled, and put on fresh socks. These socks, too, didn't match. She pulled on some running shoes, and took off for a good long jog—her best stress reliever. Although she was running, and running fast, she wasn't watching where she was going, and inadvertently crashed into a hard body. She looked up, was the boy she had met in the store. She looked away, scared he would mock her, and continue the hurtful game he'd started in the store.

“I'm sorry,” the boy apologized. “I hadn't meant to crash into you. Are you okay?”

Muylia nodded that she was okay. “Why are you saying sorry?”

“Because...I love you.”

The tormentors were taking the teasing to a new level. A level that wasn't even remotely funny; it was just painful! She shook her head. “No, you don't. You're like everyone else. You don't like me, or my socks, and you just want to make fun of me for them. You want to call me lazy for not matching them. But now you cruel, unfeeling people have come up with new and horrible ways to make fun of me and tease me. You're trying to build my hopes up, and then dash them when I actually believe what you say about loving me.”

“No! It's not a lie! Don't think that at all! I do love you.” He held her hands in his. “From the moment I saw your socks, that one neon green sock and one purple pinstriped sock, I knew you were the one for me. And now I see your neon blue and rainbow socks, and my love for you has grown.”

The level of intensity in his eyes shocked Muylia. But what shocked her even more was the fact that she believed him.

“For real?” she asked nervously.

“Yes, for real.” He nodded in conformation.
Muylia stared at him. She was surprised, but happy. A guy loved her!

Bending his head down, he kissed her. He'd found the girl for him...and he was never going to let her go.

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