Sixth grade. Red nails. The student next to me, “You’re going on my list.” I asked, “What list?” (We had these little 3x5” card holders on our desk to hold our flash cards for memorizing the book of Ephesians). The student reached into their box and pulled out a lined 3x5” card and started to write my name down. The student replied, “My hate list.” Surprised, “Huh?” The student, “If you wear nail-polish, you’re going to hell.” Clear as day I can see the black and blue inked names on the list. Years later, my grandmother - “Your toes look like their bleeding.” Me, recalling the sixth grade student, “She thinks I am going to hell.” Sometimes it feels fancy to have red nails, extravagant. Sometimes extravagance is ok and no, I am not going to hell. I type better with red nails and a blingy $20 ring on. The princess inside of me likes to come out sometimes and that’s ok with my prince.