Air Jordi Repack | Sophie Anderson

One Tuesday, after school, Sophie found Jordi sitting alone on the basketball court, tracing chalk lines with his finger. His shoes were soaked from a puddle he’d tried to avoid.

Sophie nodded. She didn’t have much money either — her mom worked two jobs. But she had something else: a plan. sophie anderson air jordi

Jordi’s eyes lit up for the first time all week. “Air Jordans. The ‘Fire Red’ 3s. My dad had a poster of them before he left. Said they made you feel like you could fly.” One Tuesday, after school, Sophie found Jordi sitting

Jordi shrugged. “Can’t afford real ones. So I draw them.” She didn’t have much money either — her

Jordi put them on. For the first time, he walked across the gym floor without looking down.

She noticed that Mr. Hendricks, the janitor, wore the same gray sneakers every day, duct tape holding the left sole together. She noticed that Marcus, who could run faster than anyone in fifth grade, had sneakers two sizes too small. And she noticed that Jordi — the quiet boy who always sat in the back of art class — had never, ever worn anything but thin, faded canvas shoes, even in the rain.