I woke up to beeping and smacked my alarm as hard as I could. I rolled over again, almost falling off my bed. I swung my feet off the bed, gaining my balance. The floor creaked as I shifted my weight and stood up. Looking around my bare attic room, I sighed, too tired to fully wake. After dressing, I slowly walked down the stairs, my hand lightly grazing the cold metal stairwell. At the bottom of the stairs, I reached up to turn the light on. It was dim, but enough for me to see the poster of those clean, un-creased Air Jordan 5 sneakers on the wall, staring at me. I loved that poster, and it covered up the big crack on the wall too. Someday I would wear something like those Jordan 5s. I idolized Michael Jordan. Someday, I told myself.

My mom had already left for her morning job, just like every morning. I only saw her in passing because she worked long hours. She taught me to rest up and save my energy for school in the morning. I learned from a very young age how to get myself ready and walk to school. I had to. She insisted that education was the most important thing. She never got a proper education and now had to work two jobs from before sunrise to after sunset just to support the two of us. When I became rich, she would never have to work again. Thinking about her, I slipped my feet into my scuffed up Nike Air Force 1s, grabbed my bag, and walked out the door, starting my trek to school.

xxx

When I reached the steps to my high school, the sun was just starting to rise. I climbed up the stairs and opened the door slowly, letting a few other kids in. My school looked pretty decent, a renovated roof, no peeling paint, no graffiti. From the outside, it looked like the nicest building in the neighborhood. But inside, the damage was clear. All the desks were cracked, nothing was remotely new. All the textbooks were ancient. Even the windows wore large brown stains. The last time they remodelled the inside must have been at least thirty years ago, even before my mom went there for high school. As I walked into the dingy building, our janitor cut me off. He was the only janitor I had ever seen in the couple years I’d been there, and he did a terrible job. I never saw him actually clean anything. He just walked around with a trash bucket, looking like a sad sloth of a man. The place was filthy, like a prison. Despite the appearance, I was thankful to have a school so close to my house.

Today we would be in the computer lab today for English. Everyone in my class grabbed our bags and headed down the hall. The computer lab was my favorite room because the teachers let us do whatever we wanted after our work was done. Personally, I looked at sneakers online. It was really my only chance since I don’t have a computer at home. Mostly I looked at things I can’t afford. Scrolling down the endless list, I hoped for the day I would be able to afford those expensive sneakers.

After finishing my essay, I browsed StockX, my favorite sneaker website. I looked around at all the Yeezys and new releases. Then, an ad popped up on the side of the screen. Come to ReStock Sneaker Shop in Cleveland, Ohio, to get your limited edition Supreme x Air Jordan 1s. August 25 only! $100.

ReStock! Cleveland! That’s where I lived! I stared at the picture of the sneakers. The Nike swoosh fit cleanly on the side of the shoe, and the red box logo was placed perfectly on the tongue. I saw my chance to snatch these up. The only thing stopping me was the price tag. Even though it wasn’t that expensive for limited edition shoes, it seemed like a fortune to me. How would I get the money? Could I justify spending money on limited edition sneakers? I saw my dream slip away, devoured by the huge monster whose name was reality.

That day after school, I walked home on my normal route, passing Hugh’s Deli, Z Best Barbershop, and dozens of vacant houses and lots. Usually, everything was the same as the day before. Nothing ever really changed. But today as I passed the barber shop, I almost missed a sign posted on the front door. I was thinking about how I could get some money to buy the sneakers. I figured I would have to get a job. Sometimes when I passed the barbershop, my barber Eddie would be there. Today, a sign on the door advertised: Hiring need after-hours cleaning assistant. I was used to seeing posters like that, and I passed by the shop without even thinking about it. I guess Eddie’s not there, I thought. I almost walked a whole block before I realized what I had just seen a minute ago. My perfect job to get the money! I rushed back down the sidewalk and checked the sign again. It was perfect timing!

xxx

I started my job the following week. I only had three weeks until the sneaker release, but Eddie agreed to seven dollars a night. I would have just enough. All I had to do was sweep up a little bit and lock up the place by 7:00. It was a great gig. More importantly, I could do it before my mom came home, so she wouldn’t know what I was doing. If she knew I was saving up money for sneakers, she would definitely make me fork it up. She would never let me save money for something “meaningless” like sneakers To her, sneakers were just something you put on your feet. To me, it was so much more than that.

For the first few days, I had a hard time sweeping up in time, but I got the hang of it. It was the same thing every night: sweep, lock up. Over and over again. After the first few days, I was able to finish in half an hour. While I swept, I dreamed about all the sneakers I would own: every Air Jordan ever made, all 33 of them, and multiple pairs of each one, in every colorway. Every day, I imagined buying a new pair. Monday: Jordan 4’s, Tuesday: 6’s. At the end of every week, Eddie handed over my 35 dollars. Each week, I also saw less and less of my mom. She said she was working a double shift or something. While she was busy at work, I was secretly making my own money. Every time those folded bills hit my hands, I smiled real big. I knew I was that much closer to the sneakers.

After three long weeks, I collected my money for that week from Eddie. It was hard to believe, but I finally had it. The sneakers were almost mine. I walked down the street to my house as the sun was just starting to set, purple hues fading slowly into red. I practically pranced up my driveway and climbed up the stairs, smiling wide even though no one could see it. I shoved the money under my bed with the rest was, keeping it safe from the outside world.

I set my alarm to 5:00 a.m. for the next morning, wanting to wake up early for a spot in line. Flopping onto my bed, I picked up scraps of paper and started to design sneakers. That’s what I wanted to do as a career. I already decided I would design for Nike. I drew the Jordan 10 “Cleveland’s” and my own custom Air Maxes sporting on the side quotes from Jordan. I drew sneaker after sneaker until I started to doze off. As I closed my eyes and laid my head on my pillow, I thought about the moment of glory tomorrow. I couldn’t wait for the sneakers to be mine. I could just see everybody looking at my new kicks.

Early in the morning, I woke up to the sound of my mom leaving the house. I held my ear to the drywall, listening to her walk from room to room. I wanted to go say goodbye to her, but I thought I’d leave right after her to go to ReStock. The earlier the better. As I stood and listened, I heard her sigh deeply. For some reason this made me sad.

She was struggling so hard just to feed me,working without rest, but all I ever wanted was sneakers. I decided right there that I would sell the sneakers after I bought them. They would fetch a good price on StockX. Since they were limited edition, I’d make at least $300 off them. I would give my mom most of the money and still have enough to buy some new Air Forces. I wouldn’t be rocking the Supreme Jordans, but I would still be happy, and so would my mom. That was all that was important. I didn’t need those sneakers anyway. After I heard her car leave, I raced down the stairs. I had to get those sneakers.

When I got to ReStock, there was already a line of about thirty people long. I was a little worried I wouldn’t get in, but I secured my place in line and reassured myself. Some people had slept overnight just to secure a spot.The people in front of me wore really expensive sneakers, like the ones I had seen on StockX. A few of them were very limited edition, maybe 1 of 100 or 1 of 50. When I looked down at my dirty Air Forces 1s, I felt like I didn’t belong. Still, we were all here for the same purpose: to get those sneakers. I couldn’t wait until the doors opened. As the morning dawned, the black sky faded into blue, then red, then yellow.

I waited and waited, trying to pass the time. I talked with a person behind me who came all the way from West Virginia. He said he was going to sell his shoes. He had a buyer lined up already, some lady who wanted them for her son. I told him I was selling mine too. It was nice to talk to someone else about sneakers. It turned out, his favorite sneaker was the Air Jordan 5 too.

I felt my stomach grumble wildly as I watched other people chomp happily on food they had brought, wishing I had thought of that, not that I had anything to bring anyway. Thankfully, the guy behind me shared his peanuts.

Not long afterward, a man with a ReStock hat opened the door and stood in front of the crowd. He gave a speech that I don’t really remember, but I smiled the whole time he was talking. I was almost there. Person after person poured into the shop in single file. At the counter, each person received their pair of Jordans in a size 9-12, paid 100 bucks, then rushed outside to look at the sneakers. The line in front of me shortened gradually until there was only one person in front of me. I reached the front of the line.

“We’re all out,” the man who had given the speech said unsympathetically to me. “Just sold the last one.”

My heart sank. My life was ruined. I worked so hard just to-

“Just kidding!” he laughed. “Come on in. We only got, like, 15 more though. Lucky you came when you did.”

I took a deep breath. I did feel lucky. As I looked back at  the line, I felt bad for all those people who wouldn’t get sneakers. That feeling quickly disappeared, however, when I walked into the store and up to the counter. They should’ve come earlier anyway. I handed the money to the guy at the counter, who asked what size I was. I told him a ten since it didn’t really matter. I’d be selling them anyway. He reached down behind the counter and grabbed the box.

Handing to me, he said, “Here you go.”

I almost dropped the box when he handed it to me. It was the most expensive thing I’d ever owned. It was gold to me. I stared at the black matte box with the Supreme logo printed on it. The box itself was beautiful. I admired it for about two minutes before opening it, then revealed the sneakers. This was the moment I had been waiting for.

The black stitching was precise. Each leather piece was placed perfectly on the sneaker, black, red, and grey combining into a beautiful color combination that made my eyes stare. The clear soles were perfectly clean. The box smelled a wonderful rubbery smell. I imagined myself wearing them to school the next day where would look at me with wide eyes. Then I reminded myself I wasn’t keeping them. I wouldn’t be wearing them. My glory would be short lived. Though I couldn’t keep the sneakers, I would make a big stack of cash. My mom would be so happy. After sitting outside for a few minutes, I waved to the guy I had been talking to and carefully pushed the sneaker box into my backpack. I then started the way home, still smiling.

That night I waited for my mom to get home from work. I grabbed the sneaker box and ran downstairs excitedly. I almost tripped as I rushed down the stairs. I let my mom put down her purse, giving her time to look at me with the box in my hands. As she turned to face me, I prepared to tell her the whole story, how I swept the barber shop, waiting in line. But when she turned around, I was surprised to see the same exact black box in her hands. I stared at her confused. Why did she have those? Was I dreaming?

She smiled,“I got these for you.”

I realized it all in a flash. The guy in line, her double shift. Everything was connected. I was lost for words. She did all this for me.

“Thank you,” I said.