It was a hot, bright, sunny day. I believe it was a Monday, no, wait, a Tuesday. Yes, I do believe it was a Tuesday since certain people, like the one in this story, were having a pleasant day, and as you know, no one has pleasant days on Mondays. Yeah, no one likes Mondays.

Anyways, the rays of the sun radiated from the window to his face with a warm glow as the birds chirped with their sing-song voice. They swayed the listener to their cheerful upbeatness, soothing the soul with their jubilance. My, it was beautiful.

However, nothing could match the beauty of what laid in front of him. The overwhelming, overpowering aroma of vinegar and sweat, mixed into those damp, grey, cotton fibers. The faint trace of cheesiness dominated the senses and would have made most grown men cry. However, his eyes did not shed a single tear; instead, they found themselves lost in a spiraling, ravaging hunger. His mouth salivated with a craving, an unholy, unquenched craving that, by the dire chance of fate, had never been fulfilled. He looked around with tense caution; no one was around, thankfully.

The socks were finally his! Whose they were, he knew not, but he knew this: this was his one and only chance. He knew it, and the crazed beast inside him knew it. He kneeled as his eyes darted back to his prize. It was his, and his alone. His tongue gravitated towards it with the curiosity and wonder of a small child looking at the vast legion of stars that shrouded the dark skies at night. Not a thing or any person could ruin this moment. Nothing. No one.

Well, except the kick to the face from a girl named Melanie.

Oh man, that one hurt, a lot. And I mean a lot.  In his relishment, his ears couldn’t pick up the deafening sounds of the creaking of that old, wooden door at the entrance of the locker room. They couldn’t pick up the rapid shuffling of her feet as she made his ways towards him like The Flash. By the time his ears had picked up on the sounds of her movements, it was already too late. He looked towards the direction of the noises and was met with the full force of her flip-flop as it smashed his face. It felt like a truck carrying concrete at 100 mph had just collided with his nose despite the foam surface of her sole. In fact, he felt himself flying a couple of feet as his back flew straight into a few lockers, causing them to clang in response. He held his nose as it bled a dark, crimson red. He winced and took in Melanie's figure while his mind went mad with bewilderment.

Melanie was the new girl around the block who had just moved into the school a few days prior. She had long, blonde hair, standing at a not-too-threatening stature of 5’6 ft. She had a cute face and wore a white, worn t-shirt and basketball shorts. While she didn’t have many, ahem, ‘assets’, in the chest area or the posterior, she made up for it in areas that didn’t depend only on genetics: her athletic figure, and her feet. Her black flip-flops showcased her toes. Oh, they looked so soft. As soft as a lavish lavender pillow. Also, they were painted a dark shade of blue. Ah! Such a mystifying color! A color that symbolized the struggle that he had fought with ever since he had saw Melanie when she moved to the house next to his; like the ocean, the surface of her toes gave an aura of awe and adoration. With this adoration, however, came a mysterious circumstance. What lay under the surface? What did the world beneath that surface look like? It must surely be a world of beauty in its own right! It had evaded the eyes of men in this world of cruel existence. Only in the rarest cases does it ever see the light of day. It is the mysterious phenomenon known as the sole, and as is common with most girls, Melanie’s in particular had never been seen by any onlooker on the outside world.

There was a gasp, then a scream, but it was not from Melanie. Nay, it was from a girl named Lily. Lily’s eyes were filled with dread and wonder, with a dash of anger added for good measure. “Ahhhhhh!” she screamed in her annoying, high pitched shriek. Soon enough, the girls that were behind her followed suit in screaming. All of them, except for Melanie who stood there with... was it a glimmer of disappointment in her eyes? Was it anger? Was it shock? Or was it curiosity? The boy couldn't truly assess them due to the unfortunate circumstances, so he ran. He ran, he ran, and he ran, covering his nose and the shame that surrounded like a shroud of fog.

Lily smirked and whipped her nose high into the air. “You sure showed that guy, Melanie.” she said, pushing the strands of her brunette hair to the side of her face. “He was probably looking for our panties or bras or something. But then, who could blame him when you have these?” She pushed up her milky-white, bountiful bust and released them, causing them to jiggle. As she did so, she giggled with laughter.

Melanie watched Lily’s breasts, then compared hers to herself. As she did so, her forehead narrowed into a frown.

Lily noticed this and patted her on the back. “Oh, don’t worry Ms. Washboard,” she mocked haughtily, “you still have some good qualities.” She surveyed Melanie. “Uh,” She paused a few seconds, and looked at her. Then she paused some more. “Hm,” she grunted. By this time, Melanie had a few tears rolling down her cheeks. “Yeah, you’ll have to give me a few minutes,” Lily said nonchalantly.

Melanie wiped the tear from her eye, but they just kept coming. Sniffling, she blinked to stop the tears, but they just kept coming back, so she ran. It didn't matter where, as long as it was anywhere far, far away.

Lily in the meantime strolled back to the locker room with a step in her stride, her nose high in the air, and sneered. “What’s her problem?”