Glass Sneakers

9th ♕

9th ♕

"Clean as you go policy, kids!" old man shouted.

I felt an easy grin steadied on my lips. "Chill, Abram."

"George!" Old man couldn't help but show his excitement when he saw me. This might be the usual thing that would happen when a familiar face returned after a month of disappearance. "What are you doing here?"

"I need a break sometimes," I told him, hesitantly nodding to Donna, a volunteer, who was looking at me in a strange way ever since I stepped in the shelter.

"I love you!" she shrieked all of a sudden. "I love you! Oh, my gosh. You're here! You're..."

Okay, so she loved me all of a sudden. She'd been here for almost a year now, and never did it come to my knowing that she saw me more than a formation of molecules. So sweet. That was very nice of her to say. She surprisingly loved me, quite affectionately, let me say.

Donna was near fainting from what I saw. She was fanning her face—it was summer, so it might be a given—with her free hand. The other one was holding a mop, that was soon after slammed back to its place.

"Can I take a picture with you?" Donna began fumbling for her phone. "My friends didn't believe me when I told them that we were working together in the shelter."

"Um, sure," I stammered, posing with her as she took a picture of us.

So maybe the last four weeks had been filled with everyone taking my picture or a picture with me at every possible instance. Whenever my face was available to lean on to or catch a glimpse of, people usually click their cameras around me.

Despite the daily makeovers that Lenora and her team were doing to me, there were still—very often, I must admit—instances when Art would stalk the internet and show me laughable poses and awkward smiles that I'd been doing around town.

Well, just because he had perfected the smile a long time ago, it didn't mean he could laugh at me whenever. But I forgave him, anyway. He was still the prince I was being molded to be a princess for. What choice did I have? He was highly involved in the job description.

"Thank you!" Donna said after our little photo op, hugging me tight.

"It's okay. Um, can I..." I tried telling her, not sure if it was right to push her a little bit away from me just so I could breathe.

"George!" Pete came around the chaotic scene. Tapping Donna's shoulder just in time, he added, "Donna, the hug is getting long. She finds it hard to breathe."

"Sorry!" Donna got startled that she instinctively pushed me away.

I ended up tripping to Pete, who firmly held me on the shoulders to stop me from dancing around the room in a very random and inspiring way. Bridgette and I hadn't got to that portion of our training yet.

"Thanks, Pete. So nice of you to be around when I'm falling," I said, straightening the skirt Lenora told me—with all due strict briefing that I shouldn't, never ever, no matter what the situation was—to refrain removing from myself. The sand-colored plaited skirt was paired up with a black tee. The new get-up for me was finished by a nude colored flat shoes and white hair band.

This time, I wasn't complaining to myself all day. At least I wasn't wearing high heels.

"Georgey! How long has it been?" Pete turned me around and wrapped me in his arms, his fresh cologne filling my lungs. "I've missed you!"

"A month? Not that long to hold me like I have a terminal illness. I've missed you too, but this is awkward. We can miss each other without really hugging or anything," I told him, moving away, but he only tightened his arms, like he was doing it on purpose. Pete, the only person I expected to treat me differently, was acting just like everyone else.