The boy with the purple shoes

This story is about the little boy with the purple shoes. This little boy loves his purple shoes, and he wears them everywhere, even to school. For this he is bullied, as purple shoes are considered girly in this school. The other little boys throw rocks at him, tease him and make up hurtful songs about him. Every day after school he runs home crying in his little purple size 13’s. These shoes were patent leather shoes, and good quality, but to be fair, they did have small bows on them. One day, the day this story is about, the little boy put on his shirt and grey shorts as normal, but as it was a festive day, the boys did not have to wear the school tie, but a tie of their choice. The little boy had a purple tie to match his shoes. He did not care that he was bullied and that he had no friends, as long as he had his shoes. Today was a special day at school. It was the day before the children had a holiday for a week, and there were activities instead of lessons. The little boy took his lunchbox and his satchel with his maths homework as normal, but he slipped a juicy red apple into his pocket when his mother wasn’t looking. The apple was for Tommy, who was a mean boy who liked to tease the little boy about his shoes. Every day before school Tommy would wait for the little boy especially just to tease him, and the little boy thought he would be nice to Tommy. He even wore black shoes and kept his purple ones in his satchel to change into after they went into the classroom. The little boy walked slowly to school hoping that Tommy would not be there. Maybe he wanted to play rope with the other boys before the bell went, and talk about the party. The party was a big celebration held at Mary-Sue’s house every year at this break. There were cakes and hot cross buns and party games, and everyone loved it. But only Mary-Sue’s friends were invited, and the little boy wasn’t invited. He was sad, as he thought it would be fun, but also relieved. He would have worn his little purple shoes, and didn’t want to be bullied in the holidays. But the little boy soon heard the familiar sound of running feet, as Tommy caught up with him. In the little boy’s head he called him Terrible Tommy.

‘Hello Tommy! It’s a lovely day isn’t it? I brought you an apple, a beautiful juicy red one. Did you do the maths homework?’

‘No. I didn’t. Let me see yours.’

‘But Tommy, we’ll get in trouble if the teacher sees we copied.’

‘Fine, I’ll just take yours. Give it to me. NOW.’

Tommy looked at the little boy threateningly, and grabbed his satchel. The little boy gasped as Tommy opened the satchel and saw the little purple shoes.

‘What… You said you thought purple shoes were stupid. You’re a LIAR, a little baby LIAR.’

‘No, my mum put those in… just take my homework…please Tommy.’

‘You’re a freak; you don’t fit in, what’s wrong with you?’

‘Nothing, Tommy, I…I…’

The little boy faltered because now he was thinking there was something wrong with him. Was he weird? He had never thought so, but maybe his was, and maybe it was his fault for being bullied, because he was weird.

‘ANSWER ME. What is wrong with you?’

‘I don’t know, Help me Tommy, how could I be normal?’

‘I have no idea, and I don’t care. Why should I help you, you just ruin everything, you’re such a loser.’

The little boy grabbed his satchel and ran into school as fast as possible. He was out of breath by the time he was in. The teacher asked for the homework, and Tommy handed in the stolen homework as if it was his own. The teacher asked ‘Where is your homework?’ Tommy started to say Tommy had stolen it, but he saw Tommy looking threateningly at him and said ‘I didn’t do it. Sorry.’ The teacher looked angry and kept the little boy in at break. The little boy could see all the children in the playground having fun and wished he was there. Another lesson went by and then the little boy went outside to eat his lunch. After he ate, he saw all the other children playing tag. ‘Please, can I play? Please?’ they let him, so he would stop whining, but they all wanted him to be tagged. After being pushed over several times (mainly by Tommy) he began to cry. The children lost interest in the game, and crowded round him and sang: ‘Cry baby cry baby sitting on the ground. Cry baby cry baby don’t make a sound. Shush shush, stop crying baby, run home to mummy.’ The little boy cried harder, wishing he could just fit in. he ran home as soon as the last bell went, putting his purple shoes carefully down by his bed, as always, ready to be out on in the morning. He examined them. Were they really that bad? They were more maroon than purple, thought the little boy, but what did that matter? They weren’t black. The little boy cried and cried, forgetting that he was leaning over his shoes. They were being splattered with his tears, as he thought about Tommy, the teacher, the mean boys and girls and his handsome shoes. Oh, who was he kidding? They were beautiful, not handsome, the most beautiful shoes in the world and even Tommy, yes, Tommy would have worn them with his head held high if they were black-even though they had little bows.