Going Denim

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

The End

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