Children made fun of a poorly dressed girl they’d ride the school bus with, teasing her that she stunk. They were surprised to see her on TV one day, which changed how they saw her entirely.
Nikki was not like everybody else in the first grade. She was a lot shorter than her classmates and was frail and fragile.
Everybody in her class knew that Nikki only had her mother living with her and that they lived a poor life. Unfortunately, one day, things went from bad to worse.
Nikki would take the bus home every day as her mother worked two jobs to raise her. The bus driver, Mrs. Evans, was already used to Nikki riding the bus by herself and would expect her every day.
Nikki would walk to the bus stop alone every day, and no one knew why. | Source: Pexels
One day, Mrs. Evans noticed that Nikki looked very sad as she waited for the bus. She was dressed in old clothes filled with holes, runs, and stains.
“Good morning, Nikki!” Mrs. Evans greeted. “Are you alright?”
Nikki looked up at Mrs. Evans and smiled. “Good morning, Mrs. Evans. Yes, I’m fine,” she said, getting on the bus. She was glad that someone spoke to her, as she was used to everybody else ignoring her.
As she boarded the bus, there were already several children inside. One girl, Martha Reeves, was a spoiled rich girl from the second grade. She spotted Nikki immediately and laughed at her clothes.
“Oh my gosh!” the young girl exclaimed. “Look at that scarecrow!” she said, pointing at Nikki.
Nikki was embarrassed that the girls in the school bus decided to make fun of her. | Source: Pexels
Nikki looked down, ashamed at the sudden attention being placed on her. She quietly sat on her seat on the last row of the bus and cried.
“Where did you find these clothes? In the garbage?” Martha asked, going closer to Nikki’s seat to tease her. As she got closer, she suddenly pinched her nose.
“Ew! You stink like a garbage bag!” she told Nikki. Martha’s friends chimed in, pinching their noses as well.
“Do you bathe or even brush your teeth?” one said, laughing.
“You can’t be serious. You can’t go to school looking and smelling like this,” Martha said, pulling Nikki from her seat. “Come on, go home! Get out of the bus and return to your filthy home,” she said, tugging at her arm.
Kids would make fun of Nikki for how she looked every day. | Source: Pexels
Nikki was in pain, but she didn’t say anything. Instead, she quietly sobbed as the girls picked on her and tried to kick her off the school bus.
Then, suddenly, the girls jumped at a scream. “That’s enough! Stop torturing this poor girl,” she said.
Mrs. Evans heard everything and decided to stop the bus to stand up for Nikki. She walked towards the back as soon as she yelled and asked Nikki to sit in front, right behind the driver’s seat.
After they were dropped off at school, Mrs. Evans could not stop thinking about the incident on the bus. She decided to find out why Nikki would show up to school in dirty-looking clothes.
So, after work, she dropped by Nikki’s house. She learned the whole truth and was surprised at what she saw there. Mrs. Evans’ daughter worked in a media company. She called her daughter and immediately told her Nikki’s story.
Nikki would sit quietly at school everyday because she didn’t want to draw attention to herself. | Source: Pexels
The following week, Nikki showed up at the bus stop in ragged clothes. Martha and her friends covered their noses and whispered amongst themselves. Mrs. Evans shook her head, but she was glad that the girls no longer said anything mean to Nikki’s face.
A couple of days later, there was a meeting at school for teachers, children, and their parents. Nikki and her mother did not show up. Mrs. Evans walked into the classroom and turned on the TV in the middle of the meeting.
One of the most-watched TV channels was airing a story about Nikki. It was shot by Mrs. Evans’ daughter and picked up by the station.
A famous TV station decided to cover Nikki’s story to inspire others. | Source: Pexels
When Mrs. Evans learned about Nikki’s story, she realized that the whole country could learn a thing or two about how she lived. Despite being a small and frail girl, she had a powerful character that inspired the bus driver.
Nikki grew up without a father and had learned the value of independence. Nikki’s mother fell ill, and insurance decided not to cover the treatment. So, as Nikki’s mom was bedridden, she could no longer take Nikki to school, cook her meals, or clean the house.
Nikki took on the responsibilities of taking care of herself and her mother while her mom was sick. She cleaned the house, took out the garbage, cooked food for her and her mom, washed her own clothes, and fed her mom medicine.
After watching the show, Martha and Nikki’s other classmates realized why Nikki’s clothes were always tattered and dirty – she had been taking on responsibilities even before going to school.
The TV news glorified the small yet brave and strong Nikki. Mrs. Evans revealed the real reason why she decided to turn on the TV, addressing the parents in the room.
Mrs. Evans attended the parent-teacher conference to share Nikki’s story. | Source: Pexels
“Your children mock Nikki on the bus every day. Kids, I hope the show taught you how important it is to be kind to everyone we meet every day. Everybody is fighting a battle not everyone knows about, and it’s best to be kind no matter the situation,” she told them.
Since that day, nobody mocked Nikki ever again. The kids would always say hi first and treat her with kindness by offering her snacks and drinks on the way to school.
Martha and her friends also gifted Nikki with some of their dresses so that she could wear clean clothes to school every day. Their parents also pooled money so Nikki’s mom could undergo surgery.
Soon after, the woman was able to return home from the hospital and begin working again. As they got home, they were surprised to see the director of the TV station waiting for them with a check.
“These are donations from the TV viewers moved by your story. We hope you use this to secure Nikki’s future and better your living situation,” the director said as she handed the check.
With the money, Nikki and her mom could secure her college tuition. They were also able to buy themselves a small new house and live comfortably.
What can we learn from this story?
- A Scottish proverb once said: “do not judge by appearances; a rich heart may be under a poor coat.” The children were quick to judge Nikki for how she looked, without realizing that she had been struggling to take care of herself while her mother was sick. It’s important not to judge others quickly, as we never know what they’re going through.
Share this story with your loved ones. It might inspire them and make their day.
If you liked this story, you might like this one about a school bus driver who found out one of the students riding his bus did not get off at the last stop for the reason that taught him a valuable lesson.
This account is inspired by our reader’s story and written by a professional writer. Any resemblance to actual names or locations is purely coincidental. All images are for illustration purposes only. Share your story with us; maybe it will change someone’s life.
My Mom Put My Car Into Her Storage Unit to Punish Me – When I Saw What Else She Was Hiding There, I Went Pale
I craved adventure and freedom, but it came at the cost of my mother’s tears. One day, she put my car in her storage unit to punish me for coming home late. I did what any 17-year-old boy would do. I stole the keys to the unit to retrieve my car, but what I found hidden there shattered my heart like glass.
Do you love your mother? What a silly question to ask! I often dreaded coming home, you know. Mom’s questions fired at me the moment I walked in. “Where were you, Eddie? Why are you late? Bla bla bla!” I couldn’t understand why she was suffocating me with her constant concern. If only I’d known then what I know now, I would’ve given anything to hear her scold me again.
Portrait of a sad teenage boy | Source: Midjourney
It was the autumn of 2021. I was 17, craving adventure and independence. Every day, it was the same routine. I’d barely get my key in the lock before my mom Charlotte’s voice would ring out from inside.
“Eddie? Is that you?”
I’d brace myself, knowing what was coming next. The moment I stepped through that door, she’d be there, arms crossed, eyes narrowed, brimming with tears.
God, not again! I’d roll my eyes.
A teary-eyed woman | Source: Midjourney
“I was worried sick, and you don’t even care. How could you be so irresponsible?”
The questions came rapid-fire, each one making me feel smaller, more suffocated. I’d try to answer, but my words always seemed to fall short.
“I was just out with friends, Mom. We lost track of time.”
“Lost track of time? Eddie, you know better than that. This is unacceptable. You need to start taking me seriously.”
An annoyed teenage boy frowning | Source: Midjourney
“I’m 17, Mom. You don’t need to worry about me every second.”
But she did worry. Every. Single. Second. A lot lately. Weird. And it was driving me crazy.
I didn’t understand then. How could I?
I was too caught up in my own world, too eager for freedom to see what was really happening. But looking back now, I wish I’d paid more attention. I wish I’d seen the fear behind her questions, the love behind her worry.
Because soon enough, I’d understand why she held on so tight. And when I did, it broke my heart.
A worried woman | Source: Midjourney
The day everything changed started like any other. I came home late, way past curfew. Mom was waiting in the living room, the dim light casting shadows across her face.
“Eddie, we need to talk about this.”
I sighed, dropping my backpack by the door. “Mom, please. Not tonight. I’m tired.”
“You’re tired? I’ve been up for hours, wondering where you were and if you were safe. I haven’t eaten a thing because I was so worried about you.”
“I’m fine, okay?” I snapped. “Why do you always have to make such a big deal out of everything?”
A frustrated teenage boy frowning | Source: Midjourney
She flinched, and for a moment, I saw something in her eyes. Hurt, maybe, or disappointment. But it was gone in an instant, replaced by anger.
“You’re grounded,” she sternly said. “And I’m taking your car keys.”
“What? Mom, you can’t do that!” I protested, but she had already turned away.
“We’ll talk about this in the morning.”
I stomped up to my room, slamming the door behind me. I didn’t know it then, but that would be the last time I’d slam a door in her face.
A boy gaping in shock | Source: Midjourney
The next morning, my car was gone. Just gone. I ran back inside, panic rising in my throat.
“Mom! My car’s missing!”
She looked up from her coffee, her face calm. “I moved it, Eddie. You’ll get it back when you start showing some responsibility.”
I couldn’t believe it. “You can’t just take my car! Grandma gave it to me! You have no right—”
“I’m your mother. I’m doing what’s best for you.”
I stormed back to my room, furious and determined to get my car back. That’s when I hatched my plan. I knew she had a storage unit. It had to be there.
A boy storming upstairs | Source: Midjourney
I waited until she left for a doctor’s appointment, then snuck into her room to find the keys. It felt wrong, but my anger overshadowed my guilt.
I had to get my freedom back. My car was my pride and love. It was my everything.
When I reached the storage unit, I felt a surge of triumph. I’d show her. I’d get my car and prove I could be responsible.
But when I opened that door, I FROZE.
A startled teenage boy | Source: Midjourney
Boxes. Dozens of them. Gift-wrapped. All neatly labeled with my name and future dates?
My stomach dropped as I read the labels: “18th birthday,” “Graduation,” “First job,” “Wedding,” and “Baby Shower?”
With shaking hands, I opened the box marked for my 18th birthday. Inside was a brown leather jacket, the exact one I’d been eyeing for months. How did she know?
I reached for another box, this one labeled “Graduation.” It was full of letters, all addressed to me, all in her handwriting.
A pile of gift-wrapped boxes | Source: Midjourney
The truth hit me hard as I sat there on the cold concrete floor, surrounded by pieces of a future Mom had carefully planned for me.
The doctor’s appointments. The exhaustion. The way she’d been holding on so tight.
Mom was sick. Really sick.
My eyes welled up as I pieced it all together. She wasn’t punishing me. She was PREPARING. Preparing for a time when she wouldn’t be here to see these milestones.
A teary-eyed teenage boy | Source: Midjourney
I don’t know how long I sat there, crying among the boxes of my future. All I know is that when I finally left that storage unit, I wasn’t the same person who had entered it.
I hurried home in a daze, my anger replaced by a crushing guilt. How could I have been so blind? So selfish?
I slipped quietly into the house, returning her keys as if I’d never touched them.
The anger that had consumed me for weeks was gone, replaced by guilt. I’d been so wrapped up in my own problems that I’d completely missed what was happening right in front of me.
A key hung on a holder | Source: Midjourney
Later that night, Mom was in the kitchen, stirring something on the stove. She looked up, surprise flickering across her face.
“Eddie? I thought you’d be out with friends.”
I crossed the room in three strides and wrapped my arms around her, hugging her tighter than I had in years.
“Eddie? What’s wrong?”
I pulled back, looking into her eyes. “Nothing’s wrong, Mom. I just… I love you. You know that, right? After Dad left us, you were my rock.”
A teary-eyed woman in the kitchen | Source: Midjourney
She cupped my face in her hands, her eyes searching mine. “Awwww, of course, I know that, sweetie. I love you too. And I’ll always be your rock, okay?”
I helped her finish dinner that night, and we ate together at the table for the first time in months. We talked about everything and nothing, and I soaked up every word, every laugh, and every moment.
As I was clearing the dishes, I turned to her. “Hey, Mom? I’m sorry. For everything.”
She smiled a sad, beautiful smile, one that I’ll never forget. “Oh, Eddie. You have nothing to be sorry for.”
But I did. And I was determined to make it right. Without letting her know that I knew her secret.
A teary-eyed boy smiling | Source: Midjourney
The next few months were different.
I stopped going out late and stopped fighting her on every little thing. Instead, we spent our evenings watching old movies, looking through photo albums, cooking, and just being together.
One night, as we sat on the porch swing, watching the sunset, she turned to me.
“Eddie, there’s something I need to tell you.”
I knew what was coming, but it still felt like a punch to the gut when she said the words.
“I’m sick, honey. And it’s not getting better.”
A sad woman sitting on a swing | Source: Midjourney
I took her hand, squeezing it gently. I didn’t want to know what it was that was going to steal her away from me.
“I know, Mom. How long have you known?”
She sighed, looking out at the fading light. “A while now. I wanted to tell you, but I didn’t know how. I didn’t want to burden you.”
“Mom, You could never be a burden. Never.”
We sat there in silence, watching the stars come out one by one. And for the first time in a long time, I felt at peace.
The last few months with Mom were the best we’d ever had. We didn’t waste time on arguments or petty disagreements. Every moment was precious, and we both knew it.
Silhouette of a boy with his mother on the beach | Source: Midjourney
She told me stories from her childhood, taught me how to cook her famous lasagna, and showed me old home videos I’d never seen before.
And through it all, she never complained, never showed fear. She was so strong, right until the end. And then, the day I dreaded came.
Mom slipped away in her sleep, a small smile on her face. And though I thought I was prepared, the loss hit me harder than I could have imagined.
A cemetery | Source: Midjourney
Months passed.
On my 18th birthday, I opened the box she’d left for me for this day. I put on the brown leather jacket, feeling closer to her somehow. And I read the first of many letters she’d written, her words bringing both tears and comfort.
“My dearest Eddie,” it began. “If you’re reading this, it means I’m not there to celebrate this day with you. But know that I’m with you, always. I’m so proud of the man you’ve become.”
I read those words repeatedly, hearing her voice in every sentence.
A boy wearing a brown leather jacket | Source: Midjourney
It’s been two years now, but I still have those boxes.
Some days, I think about opening another one, but then I stop myself. It’s like I’m saving Mom for later, piece by piece because even though she’s gone, she’s still somehow with me.
I’ve learned that love doesn’t end with death. It lives on in memories, in the lessons we’ve learned, and in the person we’ve become because of that love.
Mom taught me that. She taught me so much, right up until the end. And maybe, when the time is right, I’ll open the next box, and she’ll teach me something new all over again.
A pile of gift boxes on a bed | Source: Midjourney
But for now, I’m holding onto the memories we made in those last precious months. The laughter, the quiet moments, and the love that filled every second. Because in the end, that’s what matters most.
Love. Family. The time we had together.
And I’ll cherish every moment, just like she taught me to.
A thoughtful boy smiling | Source: Midjourney
To those who’ve just finished reading my story, I have one request: go and hug your mother. Right now. There’s no force more powerful, more pure than a mother’s love. Cherish it while you can. Never take her for granted, and please, never hurt her with harsh words or thoughtless actions.
You see, God doesn’t walk down from the heavens. He’s already sent us angels in the form of our mothers. Hold onto yours tight, and never let go. Because one day, like me, you might find yourself wishing for just one more hug, one more scolding… and one more chance to say “I love you.”
Love you, Mom. Forever & Ever.
A woman’s tomb | Source: Midjourney
This work is inspired by real events and people, but it has been fictionalized for creative purposes. Names, characters, and details have been changed to protect privacy and enhance the narrative. Any resemblance to actual persons, living or dead, or actual events is purely coincidental and not intended by the author.
The author and publisher make no claims to the accuracy of events or the portrayal of characters and are not liable for any misinterpretation. This story is provided “as is,” and any opinions expressed are those of the characters and do not reflect the views of the author or publisher.
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