Write a new post in response to today’s one-word prompt: Stylish
Via Daily Post: Stylish
I don’t believe that my mother, self-professed-crafter-extraordinaire, meant me any ill will when she knit the scarf for me. She had woven the neon green and hot pink yarn into a chaotic chain design; my favorite color pallet of my youth, but had abandoned at the age of eight. I didn’t consider myself stylish in any regard, yet I had enough sense to know this was not a scarf I would have chosen for myself. But my mother had worked diligently on the token, and I could not present anything but gratitude. I smiled as purely possible at her and wrapped the homely cover around my shoulders. “Wow! Thanks mom, I love it…”
I cringed as my mother pulled up to the school. As the vehicle came to a stop, I grabbed my lunch and backpack then paused to give my mom a warm smile.
“Have a great day, honey.” she smiled back and reached to pat my leg.
“Thanks, mom, you too.” I reached for the door handle and began to pull it open.
“Oh, honey!” My mother reached into the backseat and fished out the new scarf she had given to me over the weekend. “Don’t forget this,” she slid it across my shoulders and pulled each end down to the same length then nodded with approval.
“Oh yeah…thanks.” I turned and exited the vehicle, rushing to the entrance of the school in an attempt to decrease my view-ability. Chewing my lip as though it would provide a distraction from the embarrassing walk down the middle school hallway, I fixed my eyes on the checkered floor and shuffled towards my home room. Voices began to quiet as I made my way further down the hall and it became a battle to keep my eyes downcast.
“Hey, Sandra!” I grimaced. It was foolish of me to think I could make it through the hall unnoticed with the equivalent of a blinking neon sign around my neck. I paused and looked up, my brow furrowed with concern as I realized Bethany Miller was the one speaking to me. Yes, the squad leader of the cheer committee, softball captaining, girlfriend to Gaven Redding, most-popular-girl-in-school Bethany Miller had said my name for the first time ever.
I felt my stomach drop as every pair of eyes in the hallway fixed upon me. I swallowed and clutched nervously at the scarf, it seemed to be tightening around my neck, “Uh, me?” Idiot…of course you. Bethany raised her eyebrow at me. I laughed nervously then spoke again quickly, “I mean, yes?”
Bethany flipped her long, blonde hair over one shoulder and took a step towards me. “Where’d you get this?” She reached out and grabbed one end of my atrocious scarf, tugging at it gently as she posed the question.
“Oh um…” I looked around, smirks met my gaze. My face flushed red and I lowered my eyes then responded, “It was a gift…my mom made it…” I silently cursed my mother for bringing this sure to be life-scarring moment to me.
Bethany tugged the scarf with more force, startling me as she raised her voice, “No way! Your mom made this?”
I sighed heavily and braced for what would come next, “Yes…she knit it herself. She’s into crafting…”
Bethany chortled, and laughter emanated towards us from the gathered crowd. I wanted to melt to the floor.
Bethany stopped laughing and jerked at the scarf once more, “You’re funny. ‘She’s into crafting’. Good one.”
I felt the anger flare inside. I knew my mom wasn’t Coco Chanel, but I didn’t need Bethany Miller to weigh in on the fact. “You know, it’s made with love. So yeah. That’s funny, I guess.” I grabbed the scarf and ripped it from Bethany’s grip. I stared at her with defiance.
Bethany raised her hands and shook her head back and forth, “Oh no, no, no! I think you misunderstood me.” She reached forward to lovingly stroke the scarf, “You’re mom isn’t a crafter, she’s a master weaver!”
My rage surged. “Okay that’s it!” I raised my voice to drown out the expected laughter, “I get it, it’s an ugly scarf. Ha ha, let’s all laugh at Sandra and make fun of her mom.” I waved my arms wildly as I ranted and raved.
My voice seemed to echo in the hall. The laughter had never began, and my words had rushed out before I could consider the true tone of the audience. Bethany had taken a step back, a look of concern and confusion presented by her symmetrical features. She frowned before answering me, “Actually, I really like the scarf, and I want one for myself. You don’t have to be so rude.” Motioning to her posse, she stalked off without further consideration, followers in tow.
I tilted my head back to stare at the ceiling and let out a bark of a laugh. This isn’t really happening. I took a deep breath and gripped each side of the ill-favored scarf in my fists. I cursed my mom for making an object so awesome that I’d gotten the attention of the most influential girl in the school, only to make a complete fool out of myself.