I remember it was seventh grade and I had never been to a social, but God did I catch on fast. I remember wishing someone would take me by the waist and dance with me like the rest of the slightly-slutty school, like the repetitive grinding and youthful voice crackling moans coming from the dirty floor.
I remember him coming up to me and the laughter that in sued, a laughter that came from my lip-glossed kiss. He couldn't be serious. But he was and took my waist like any other nervous seventh grade boy, only a little taller and a little less anxious than I was.
Dancing with him was almost the most awkward thing I had ever done, next to breaking up with my elementary school "boyfriend", a relationship which consisted of holding hands during recess and nothing more. His shoulders smelled like sweaty musk due to the rhythmic techno beat. The shirt on his back was soggy, his hair shaggy, but, of course, he didn't know how to dance.
Later I decided that the strange and uncoordinated event was meant to happen like it did, and that most people's middle school experiences had happened as such. Even the spiteful associate-principles of the school had gone through the same initiation, or so everyone assumed. What I never assumed, however, was what would happen the next week at school, and all because of my first dance.
-Teresa Lane
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