Alright, so I didn't get the memo. That didn't give them any right to gawk at me like I was some sort of obnoxious hotdog mascot. But, I must admit, wearing a pair of faded denim jeans to what was apparently a top-notch formal, school dance was kind of asking for it.
I looked up at all my friends, their sparkling dresses flowing across the floor, and then down at the grass-stained hole on my left pant leg, boasting a skinned-knee.
I believe the next place I looked was the door. The wise-guy who had encouraged me to go without giving the details obviously just thought the storage-room of gossip in our highschool halls was running low on laughing stocks.
Fortunately for him, I was the was the worst hitter on my volleyball team. Fortunately for me, I had found a good, close-by parking spot. I shoved my frustration into the door and stomped right into someone else.
"Sorry," I fumbled, looking up to see the star basketball player of the team. If it weren't for bad luck, I decided, I wouldn't have luck at all.
"You come to the wrong place too?" he chuckled. It was then that I noticed he was wearing plain, yellow t-shirt and, best of all, a faded pair of denim jeans.
I guess fashion isn't everything.
Next Color: Fluffy-Cloud White