by Kristina Emmons

Created on: January 16, 2009   Last Updated: January 18, 2009

Evan was not the cutest boy in my grade, but I wasn't about to dismiss any interest thrown my way by the opposite sex. For a misfit with oversized glasses, poorly cut hair, and a wardrobe that included high water jeans, any hint of flirtation was most welcome. One day Evan gave me a smile, left the room, and returned, just to speak to me! This, of course, made him the center of my universe.

Did I mention Evan was popular? Further, my good friend Jules was friends with him. Well, at least he tolerated her, even though she was officially on the "out" list. But Jules was about to be a true procurer of miracles. Quite possibly she had what it took to make sainthood, because through Jules we were invited to Evan's house to learn the latest dance move for our upcoming school dance. I was ecstatic! And just maybe I would make the "in" list after all!

I woke up on the morning of the big day with an even bigger problem. Overnight, a fire hydrant had emerged and was sitting right in the middle of my nose! It was a monstrosity, the blemish to end all blemishes. I plead with my mother to let me stay home, but she didn't feel that a piece of machinery on my face was reason enough. How was I to show myself at school?

Throughout the day I made frantic trips to the bathroom to check my appearance. Though the blemish was a more than obvious target, I managed to escape being seen by Evan or humiliated by my classmates all day. When the final school bell rang, I sighed in relief and went to my locker to retrieve my backpack. A friend came up to me, wrinkled her nose, and stared grotesquely at my blemish. My eyes widened to the circumference of craters, and I hurried to the bathroom mirror to find that the fire hydrant was about to explode.

If this had occurred in the age of texting, I might have described my reaction as OMG. I could hear distant screaming from an Alfred Hitchcock movie in my head, and tears raced to my eyes, but there was no time for blubbering. In two hours I was to be at Evan's house, and cancelling the opportunity of a lifetime was out of the question. Surgery must be done-stat!

No surgeon casually relates the details of a gruesome procedure, and I would not force the reader to endure a description of mine. All I will note is that surgery was successful and the bump was much deflated, but it was still, well, fire hydrant red. An hour later I applied more make up to my nose than a baker uses frosting to cover a cake, but no amount of it would mask the hydrant's mark. The only thing left to do was show up at Evan's doorstep with Jules, hoping for the best.

I learned a new dance move that night, but it wasn't a hip hop move-it was the cross-eyed hop. It's hard, after all, to avoid looking at the thing you know you're not supposed to look at, even for Evan. He was supposed to be lost in my eyes, but he couldn't find them. My moment of exit from the "out" list was fatefully blocked by a roarin' red fire hydrant.

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