This dance will be different, I tell myself,
because I am older and wiser than last spring.
This time, I don’t swallow giggles,
and I don’t expect something brand new to happen.
As soon as Stacey and I hang up our coats
and go into the gym, she begins to dance
to “Love Child,” and looks around for Victor,
her eyes glittering.
“Do you see him?” she asks.
As I look,
some girls and even some guys
smile at me or wave, and I know
this dance will be different.
“Don’t worry,” Stacey shouts close to me
over the music, “I won’t leave you,”
and just then, Victor comes behind her,
catches my eye,
and taps her shoulder.
She twirls around and looks surprised—
but who else was she expecting?
“Hi,” she says shyly.
“You just get here?” he asks.
We nod because yelling hurts our throats.
The music switches to “I Heard It Through the Grapevine,”
and the three of us start wobbling
like a three-legged stool.
It only takes a minute
for the two of them to be dancing with each other
and for me to be dancing with myself.
Suddenly I’m thirsty,
and point to the refreshment table.
But on my way there, I get stopped
by kids saying hi.
And then,
Michael from my homeroom asks me,
“Wanna dance?”
No one ever asked me that before,
not even Papa or Auntie Sachi.
The band is playing “I’m a Believer,”
and I’m laughing, and Michael’s laughing
because we’re doing different moves
in opposite directions.
Then Stacey and Victor come over,
and we all dance together in a circle.
The song ends
and we’re puffing and sweating, and
I don’t know what to say to Michael
or what to do,
so I say, “Excuse me,”
and I head to the refreshment table.
Someone taps my shoulder,
and I turn to see
nobody.
Then they tap my other shoulder,
and I turn to see
Timothy.