A month later, the first commercial for the shoes came out on TV — the one with the boys’ baseball team and the cloud of dirt. It looked a little different than I thought it would, but you could really tell it was me when I took off the helmet.
Life got a little complicated after that.
All of a sudden, people were coming up to me saying, “Hey, you’re that shoe girl.” In the store, at the park, in restaurants, it didn’t matter. Everyone knew I was Riley Mae now. Some kids were even asking me for my autograph, so I started practicing writing my name really fast, and of course, I dotted the “i” with a daisy. I also started carrying around different-colored permanent markers so I’d be ready. But then I thought that would seem too big-shot like, so I just carried one color — pink.
Even weirder than seeing myself on TV was seeing full-sized posters of me in sporting goods stores all over Fresno.
“Ewww, creepy,” was all Brady could say.
Each Saturday in February was “Special Guest Appearance Day.” It was my job to appear “wherever fine sporting goods are sold.” At least that’s what the ads said. I got to give out fun stuff to girls — like pink sweatbands and hair ties — and pump them up about the Riley Mae shoe collection. The displays at the stores were amazing — big daisy-covered walls full of softball and running shoes in just about any design or color a girl could want. And from what I could tell, a lot of girls wanted them. At one store, a couple of girls got in a little fight over the last pair of “Butter Ups.”
One girl brought a pair of pink daisy cleats to her dad.
“Can I get these . . . please?”
“In your dreams. Let’s go see what Walmart has.”
The girl looked like she was going to cry and just left the shoes lying there on the floor. Why would her dad say that? They weren’t going to find anything better at Walmart. I walked over to put the shoes away.
Even the shoeboxes were cute. Every box design matched the shoes. I put the shoes back in the box and stacked it on the shelf. This pair was called Crazy Daisy, but I noticed that the name was covered by the price tag, so I peeled it off so I could put it somewhere else on the box.
Then I noticed the price. One hundred and thirty dollars.
ONE HUNDRED AND THIRTY DOLLARS?
I turned to watch the girl continue to fight with her dad as they walked out the door. It was all clear now. And I suddenly felt sick.