I’ve always wanted to know what it was like to have a closet. The kids at my school make fun of me. It hurts my feelings. I cry almost every day.
My house isn’t just for me. There are kids like me there too. But they aren’t my brothers or sisters. They were brought there like me, by their parents. And just like me, their mommy and daddy never come to pick them up. Some of them are brought by the police or people in black coats. A little girl was dropped off here yesterday and won’t talk to anyone, even me.
I like Mama Ingrid, though. The other kids don’t, but I do. She does her best, but always says she doesn’t have much money. Every day she wears a blue or white shirt. White has holes, blue has a stain. Her jeans are always dirty. I think they used to be blue, but now they’re brown and gray. Down at the bottom of her pants, where she wears really old shoes, there are more stains. I think they’re from the dirt outside. Oh… her shoes are a nice color, dark blue. But I think they were brighter before.
Some of the kids have a closet. Their parents gave them a suitcase full of clothes, but they never share. My parents brought me here when I was three, Ingrid said. So I grew out of everything. Mama Ingrid never had enough to buy me more than one outfit every year. And sometimes, my clothes would get too tight before Christmas.
When I go to school in November and my shirt is too small, my friends make fun of me. They push me down and laugh. And one time, the bullies tore my shirt and I still had to wait until Christmas. Mama Ingrid said I wouldn’t be able to eat for a week if she got me a new outfit before then. But the teachers never say anything. I know they are sad for me, but they know that my mommy and daddy are gone. They know that I live in the big wooden house at the end of the road. That’s where they say all the poor kids live.
One day. I will get a closet and fill it with clothes. I wish for that every night when I see a shooting star. Mama Ingrid said that if I wish hard enough, it will happen. She asked me what I want to be when I grow up. I said a teacher who doesn’t let kids get pushed around for not having clothes. But I don’t know why, it made her cry with a smile.
When I get enough money for more clothes, I’m going to buy them. I already have pictures from the magazines taped to my wall in my room. So I know what I’m going to get when I have money. Mama Ingrid says I have to wait until I can get a job. Maybe I’ll ride the bike around town and give people their newspapers. I can do that when I’m fourteen.
But one day. I will have a closet.
Sorry this one is short. This was the next Writing Prompt in my board on Pinterest. But today, it did not strike any chords with my deepest inspirations. Hopefully, the one I created below will give you enough for a story!