Dance the Boy Away

    Nothing too mature, in retrospect. Of course, things like love rarely are in school. Angela had forgotten all her worries as she boldly stepped onto the dance floor. Everything—the move, her hair, all the social pressure of school and even the water level in her body. Barely taking a second to tap out the beat carefully with her foot, she swung into motion. There was a rhythm, blatant and simple, all around. The boys came up to her in waves. They did not care to dance, only to mock her for being braver than they.
    For a while, Angela danced alone, but she didn’t believe it. She imagined a perfect, handsome knight in shining armor, always in step, taking her hand at every turn.
    The music, so loud it could be felt before it registered on the ear, was quick and hard—a standard junior high/high school dance. After a while, a slow, romantic tune began. Without someone to hang on, Angela stepped aside and stood at the edge of the floor. There, a hand lightly tapped her shoulder. She spun around, only to come upon Lynn, a boy she knew well from band. His charming white smile contrasted starkly against his dark face and he now seemed a perfect gentleman in a suit rather than some kid to hit with an instrument. “Care to dance?” he asked sweetly, a nervous edge to his voice.
    Angela glanced around. “But what about your girlfriend?” she asked, not knowing what to say. She was always several days behind the latest gossip.
    Lynn looked over his shoulder. Sure enough, the girl was there, talking happily with her friends. “Nah, we broke up. She doesn’t mind.”
    “Sure, then,” said Angela, uncertain of what else to do. She took his hand and they danced: fast, slow—whatever the rhythm demanded. The beat of the bold drummer went right to their feet, all the time in perfect step. They talked about the end of school, dance moves, annoying peers, and anything while still nothing specific. He seemed to Angela the dance partner she’d only dreamed about, the knight in shining armor she’d always seen. She couldn’t help but notice that, unlike so many men who looked like corpses in a suit, Lynn was dashing, like a secret agent or Prince Charming. He two fell comfortably into the soft rhythm of yet another slow dance, not simply rocking like the couples around them, but spinning and twirling gently into the song. Softly, Lynn asked a question that seemed to come all too suddenly. “Would you like to go out sometime, maybe?” he said.
    Angela thought for a second. “No...” she said sadly. “Can’t. I’m moving, see. Can’t cause any more pain, can’t get attached. Sorry...”
    “Right... I see. I understand.” He muttered sympathetically. They spun again, Angela cursing the dreadful boxes at home in the back of her mind. Lynn seemed a little downfallen but nevertheless just fine. The issue was shrugged off, not to haunt the happily exhausted couple again that night.
    Several months and thousands of miles later, Angela remembered that night fondly, wishing it would happen again, wishing she’d stayed and said yes. Wishing to see him again—but only wishing.