What’s Under the Boots

Another story that goes back to my high school days, but still vividly plays in my mind. It’s a wonder why some of these shoe loss victims don’t stop and realize that they really do bring things upon themselves.

Julie was one of the girls that regularly hung out with my group of friends. She had a spare block with myself and a few others during our senior year. Typically, we would spend that spare block in the cafeteria just talking about the usual things like crushes, or well, come to think of it, that was pretty much it.

On this day, Julie wore tight black jeans and a pair of platform ankle boots that just left enough of a gap between the top of her boots and the cuff of her jeans. Julie wasn’t overly tall, but the platform boots added an extra two inches to her height and I think she enjoyed wearing them because they made her taller.

As we prepared to study, the conversation shifted to Julie. We started questioning Julie on the usual topics, like who she liked. Truth be told, I had a huge crush on Julie at the time and I was hoping that she would admit she liked me. Though that seemed to only work in Hollywood movies. Julie didn’t crack under the pressure.

“What about you?” Julie changed the topic and focused her attention on me, “you must like someone.”

“I’m not at liberty to say,” I told her.

“That’s a lame answer,” Julie responded and shifted her attention to the other guys.

“Well, they’re not as lame as your stupid shoes,” I muttered to Julie.

“What? Excuse me?” Julie replied, very offended by my comments. Sometimes, these situations really just occur so naturally that no one ever even thinks twice on how they end up where they eventually do.

“Your shoes are lame,” I repeated.

“First of all, they’re boots,” Julie said, “and secondly, they’re not lame! They’re very nice and you wouldn’t know anything about fashion anyway.”

“Why would you say that?”

“I’m not the one who still wears sport socks!” Julie retorted as she pointed out the guys still wearing their trendy basketball shoes and sport socks.

“What do you have?” I asked.

That was the moment Julie propped her left foot on the lunch table and slowly unzipped her boot to reveal a neon yellow ankle sock.

“See!” Julie said as she proudly revealed her sock and put her empty boot on the table, “fashionable.”

This was my chance, I immediately asked Julie, “what about your other foot, what’s under there?”

Julie, without thinking, unzipped her right boot and put it on the table as well, revealing her other neon yellow ankle sock.

As she was busy with her other boot, I took the liberty of taking her left boot that she had left on the table and throwing it across the empty cafeteria.

Julie, with her unveiled neon yellow socks propped on the table held on to her right boot tightly.

“Go get my boot back!” she yelled at the group.

No one moved.

“You guys suck,” Julie said as she slipped her right boot back on and started to hop toward her empty left boot.

The guys, seemingly on the same page, ran for her empty boot and a game of monkey in the middle started in the cafeteria with Julie’s left boot. Julie did her best to keep her left socked off the dirty cafeteria floor and hopped back and forth while cursing all of our names for being so immature.

Julie finally gave up and hopped back down to her seat. She never once let her socked foot hit the ground. The guys got bored and handed the boot back to her.

“You guys should grow up,” Julie said angrily as she put her boot back on.

Sadly, I never got to date Julie in high school, but we did go on a few dates during our college years. I brought up this story a few times with her, but Julie seems to have forgotten that it had ever happened.


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