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We might as well have called it Nicole’s Day for all the difference that it made.

I stepped in to the classroom on Valentine’s morning there, seated, was Nicole, seemingly buried under mounds of flowers and chocolates. In her hand were letters from three or four different guys. She was quietly reading the one on top, a smile tugging at the corner of her lips.
“I don’t even want to know who that’s from. All I need to know is whether you’re sharing,” Jill declared, eyeing the Ferrero Rocher nearest her.

She looked up from the letter to see that Jill, Anne, and I had surrounded her. “Of course, of course! There are for all of us!”

But they weren’t, really. And when she said what she did, Nicole was being kind.

See, Valentine’s Day, and all the sweets and sweet-smelling things that come with it, are meant for girls like Nicole — with their cover-girl good looks, ladylike figures, and polished manners. This particular day of the year , heartthrobs are given a little something extra for the blessings the already have — they’re given affirmation that they truly are, in fact, adored and endeared. One might already be worshipping the ground they walk on the rest of teh year, but Valentine’s Day is the time to go all out! So naturally, when someone doesn’t go all out for you on this day when every guy serves up the works for some girl, you know on which side of the Plain Jane-Prom Queen divide you belong.

Anne was all too aware of it. “This isn’t even about Nicole because I love Nicole, but I really hate Valentine’s. More than make the gorgeous girls feel good about themselves, it makes everyone else who doesn’t quite make the cut feel bad! It’s worse than reading a magazine, I swear. At least then, you can pretend those pretty girls are airbrushed and aren’t real!” she complained, while we were taking our restroom break.

I laughed at her outburst, but I knew how she was feeling. That morning, I didn’t have to look at my table to know that there were no gifts from secret admirers for me. I only had to look at my reflection in the mirror in this restroom to know why. Sure, there was nothing wrong with Anne or Jill or me. I wouldn’t say we were tragically unfortunate-looking, I wasn’t that insecure. Quite the reverse, I might even venture to say that we’re cute — Anne’s perfect teeth and twinkling eyes stared back at me from the mirror. I, on the other hand, thought my skin was my best asset, was also complimented that I had a cute nose, and was told by Carlo that my eyes lit up when I smiled. Still, we didn’t have those qualities that separated the celebrities from the sheep. We were Plain Janes in a class where there were stand-outs.

Dismissal time and the small torments wouldn’t let up. Hanging out outside the gates of campus were diligent suitors from all over, hoping to catch a glimpse of their dear damsels like knights-in-waiting. Nicole had one guy waiting for her from an all-boys sschool, and we were stuck standing on the fringes with this boy’s cast of cohorts, pretending to have the most interesting conversation. “Boy, am I glad I’m not Nicole,” Jill whispered to me as Nicole and what’s-his-name finally said goodbye after what seemed like ages.

I turned to her, surprised. “How come?”

“I don’t have to prettify nor entertain anyone, but I still get free candy!” she said happily.

We laughed so hard as we gave each other a high five. And while waiting for my school bus, I thought, maybe there really isn’t any reason to stress. Sure, I didn’t get protestations of undying love today, but I’m young, I have 10 more years before I have to panic–if I have to panic. Sure, I won’t get to take home flowers but those will rot in three days or so and then they’re bound for the trash. Sure, no one gave me chocolates, but I got to eat some–more than my fill actually! Sure, there were no suitors that came to school for me today, but the ones that came didn’t even look that cute! Sure, no one sent me stuffed toys, but that’s a good thing `cause I have asthma. I realized that Valentine’s can come and go without anything stereotypical happening to you, but you can go home still bubbly after a good friend’s joke.

I barely finished that train of thought before I heard a boy behind me say, “Katie! Just the person I wanted to see.”

And I turned to look.