The Left Left...

bbbbbrrrrriiiiing!

"Woo hoo!" the annoying kids start to cheer. I slam my math text book and shut and race towards the end of the hallway. I slam through the doors at the top of the stairs and gallop down like everyone else. There's a herd of us. And we're all headed towards the same destination.

I reach my locker out of breath and flop my book bag and textbook on the floor. My heart is racing. I've been waiting for this all day!

I fiddle with my lock a bit. My hands are shaky cuz I'm nervous. OK. Calm down. Deep breath. 5....45....30... and with that my locker flings open. I throw my bag into the bottom on top of my boots, and fling my textbook on the top shelf. I look in the mirror and check my hair. It's gross. I'm gross. And I have a big zit on the end of my nose.

I need lip gloss!

I dig around in my coat pocket before I'm able to retrieve it. It smells like strawberries. I like it. I put it on, then grab a compact and try to powder my nose. Does that make my zit any less noticeable? Maybe I should have put toothpaste on it last night before I went to bed?

"Come on!" someone yells, and I slam my locker door shut and triple-check my lock. I rub my penny loafers with my sweater and try to clean them up a bit. I readjust the pennies to make sure they are sticking in there properly...and with that...we race to the cafeteria doors.

The line up is huge -- but it's moving fast. The French teacher with the squeaky voice is stamping everyone's hand as they enter. I look up at the clock; it reads 4:05. I'm so excited...and nervous...but more excited.

This is my very first school dance.

We get in and all the big kids are dancing in circles. My next door neighbor is one of the cool girls, but we don't really talk at school. It's ok. I understand that I'm only a nobody grade 7 -- and at least we still hang out after school and stuff.

I walk over to where the big kids are to see what they are doing. Most of the girls have boobies, but I don't. I readjust my training bra and slip quietly behind some of the other kids. They're all doing the Running Man. I try quietly to copy them -- but I can't seem to get the rhythm.

My friends are all dancing on the other side of the room; and when I look over to see what they are doing, they waive me to come over to them. After a few more minutes of quietly trying to learn how to dance the Running Man -- I walk back to my friends. It's hopeless. When the big girls start doing the Roger Rabbit, I know I'm in over my head.

"Why are you over there? They won't let you in their circle," scolds one of my friends as she dances care free.

"I was trying to learn how to do the Running Man," I tell her. I don't think it was such a stupid thing to do...and besides, I know deep deep down, my neighbor would never ever let anyone be mean to me.

"Well, forget about it. If you can't do it -- there's no point!" my friend snaps back and continues to swing her hips side to side. There's a big group of us; and it's dark in here. They've turned the lights off and blocked off the windows with garbage bags -- so, even though it is still light outside -- we have the look of a real 'nighttime' dance.

I sulk for a little and try to do the Running Man when I think no one is looking, but one of the other girls across from me in the circle just rolls her eyes at me...so I stop.

I try to get my rhythm going -- but it's hard. The music is really really fast; and my legs just grew a bit this summer. Everything is just so awkward.

I hope no one can see my zit.

I start to sway back and forth -- copying my friend. She doesn't mind. A moment later she grabs my arms and swings me around. It's fun. I'm having fun.

So what if we nerdy little grade 7s have to dance on the other side of cafeteria in our own little circle away from the big girls? It's not really that big of a deal...

"Oh no!" one of my friends says. The cafeteria splits in half...and the music slows down. I follow what everyone else is doing. I really don't get what is going on, but if I follow along -- I'll look like I know. I shuffle to the side of the room where all the girls are moving to. The boys shift to the other side.

The dance floor is empty.

Sigh. Great. It's a slow song. I hope no one asks me to dance. I'm just gonna hide behind my friends here at the back. I don't want anyone to see my zit.

Slowly, one by one, the grade 8s start to move onto the dance floor. The boys cross back over from their side of the room, grab the hand of the girl -- and they dance. The ones who are 'going out' dance a little closer. I watch for a few moments. Most of the grade 7 boys are still standing on the other side of the room.

This is good. It means that none of them are going to cross over and ask any of us to dance -- and then none of them will notice my zit.

The rubber from my training bra is digging in a little too tight. I thought that if I hooked it on a tighter setting it would make my boobies look bigger -- but it doesn't. My cousin found my training bra once and laughed so hard. It was really funny -- but kinda embarrassing. She calls my boobies mosquito bites.

"Uh oh!" my friends says. It's a good 'uh oh'. She's excited. One of the grade 8 boys is crossing the dance floor and headed right towards her. I hide behind her a little bit; but then he takes her hand and they begin to dance. He has his hands on her waist, she has her hands on his shoulders. They both look in opposite directions. This is how most of the kids who are not 'going out' are dancing.

I cross my legs and fidget with my fingers. There's hardly any girls standing on this side of the room now. No one is in front of me. If a boy crosses the dance floor and sees me, he could ask me to dance.

A minute later I see one of my classmates walking towards me. He gives me a big smile and asks me if I want to dance. I want to say "no", but that would be mean. Besides, we're not 'going out' so it won't be so embarrassing. I walk towards the middle of the dance floor. I think we both want to hide from everyone.

"I have a zit on my nose," I tell him, just in case he already noticed it. He looks at me weird, then puts his hands on my waist, and I put my hands on my shoulders and we both look in opposite directions. I stare at the clock because as we turn I'm facing that wall. It reads 4:57. We only have another 15 or 20 minutes until we have to go home. I really hope this song ends soon.

We turn a bit more and I look at the stage and think about maybe trying out for the school play this year. I like performing.

We turn some more and I stare over the tops of the garbage bags and see the daylight poking through. I wonder how long it took them to put up all those garbage bags? They would have needed a really large ladder to --

And then the fast music starts again. We all break formation and I gravitate towards my circle of friends. I try the Running Man one more time. I think I got it. I got it! I'm doing the Running Man! I'm gonna show my neighbor today after dinner -- I think she'll think I'm cooler now.

I can't believe I'm doing the Running Man! Thank god I put on my training bra really tight this morning. It's keeping my boobies in place.