I walked up and down the strip between the rows of squares. Everybody was having a good time. I knew it was partly because we were throwing a great party, but it was more than that. It was like giving somebody a glass of water who’d been wandering in the desert for days with nothing to drink. Everyone was so thirsty for contact with other people—even if that contact was at a distance of six feet and they couldn’t touch one another and they were all wearing masks.
And I loved the masks! Some were made from the same material as the dresses. Others had logos from favorite sports teams. Some featured fake smiles and grimaces and even missing teeth. There were monsters, zombies and superheroes. My mask was pretty simple. I was wearing a smile.
Each time a song ended the kid in each square moved one square to their left. It was like a gigantic game of musical chairs except nobody was eliminated. Whoever was in the square across from you was your partner for the next dance. Most of the time everyone was dancing. In fact, there was way more actual dancing than there had ever been at any real school dance.
Sometimes kids took a break. They sat down and had a snack or a drink and talked on the phone to each other. Whether dancing or talking, they were having a good time.
There was a square called Pandemic Pictures, right in front of the Jacobson house. Mr. Jacobson was a really good amateur photographer. He had lots of expensive lenses for his camera and could zoom in from a safe distance to take pictures. He’d also set up a green screen for special effects. We took turns standing in front of the screen, picking a background from anywhere in the world. Maybe we couldn’t travel very far right now, but we could look like we were. Kids were placed in front of the pyramids, in Paris, on the moon and under the sea, swimming with turtles and dolphins. The photos were spectacular. I chose the New York City skyline as my background.
These pictures were going to be used for the mask-decorating contest. Miss Fernandez was going to put the pictures on a website, and we would vote for our favorite mask.
Of course, Mr. Jacobson wasn’t the only one taking pictures. There had to be thousands and thousands of pictures and videos being taken. Everybody had a phone, and almost everybody had theirs out. There were selfies, shots of other people, videos. I knew everyone would be flooding their social media pages with pictures and videos. Those would be things we could see and remember forever.
In the background of all this was the music. Isaac was killing it. He played many different types of songs and got everybody up on their feet.
He played “U Can’t Touch This,” which I thought was just about the perfect pandemic song. While MC Hammer danced on the screens, I got to see my father do his best imitation of the dance. Turned out my father had some moves.
Isaac had picked lots of the standard guaranteed-to-make-you-want-to-move songs but also a lot that spoke to what this dance was really about. Ones that made us laugh. Or maybe cry a little. Songs like “Don’t Stop Believing,” “I Think We’re Alone Now,” “We’re All in This Together,” “I Will Survive,” “The Safety Dance” and “Don’t Come Around Here No More.”
He was playing—and showing—lots of videos too. When “Renegade” came on, the cheers were so loud I was positive people miles away could have heard the roar. Maybe my father could dance like MC Hammer, but every single person in my class knew the moves to “Renegade.” Of course, most of the adults didn’t know the song or the dance. Miss Fernandez was an exception.
That was the way it was all night. Different groups reacted or danced to different songs. Isaac seemed to be keeping them all happy. The guy had real DJ skills. And it wasn’t just the songs. It was also the things he said between songs, getting people involved, making jokes. It was like all his joking and fooling around in class over the years had prepared him for this.
When the song “Staying Alive” came to an end, Isaac got back on the PA.
“Hey, everyone, I’m afraid to say we’re getting close to the end of our night,” he announced, and the crowd reacted by booing.
“I know, I know. But we promised to obey the permit laws, and I need you all to help us keep that promise. We do have time for one more song. And it comes with another dedication.”
Throughout the night people had been texting Isaac requests.
“This is from Mrs. Reynolds and is dedicated to Mr. Reynolds,” he said. A whole bunch of students said, “Oooooh.” It made me laugh out loud.
I turned around, looking for our principal. I hadn’t known she was even here! I spotted her and her husband standing on one of the driveways. They waved, and people cheered.
“I have to say I’m disappointed Mrs. Reynolds didn’t dedicate this to me, since we normally spend so much time together,” Isaac said. “But that’s okay. Remember, if you don’t dance to this one, you’re all getting a detention!”
The music started. I watched on the screen as a man with a punky hat climbed out of a garbage can. I knew the song because it was one my parents liked too—“Dancing by Myself.” I looked over at Mrs. Reynolds. She and her husband were bouncing up and down to the music. Along the entire block, and on the driveways and grass, it seemed like every single person was dancing. It was magic. And it was nearly over.