The Traumatic Dance

I remember thinking to myself, she was a new friend. She made me feel as though we had been friends for my whole childhood, though I only spent a single year with her at elementary school. I remember seeing her for the first time at a new school when we were in sixth grade. I walked right into that classroom to see her there, sitting with her knees up and over the desk, looking truly innocent. Her feminine countenance and child-like virtue gave her an angelic aura. She was a budding flower that not everybody gets to see blossom into such a rose as her. Her name... was Valerie. I, unfortunately, was unaware of the thorns directly below the tender pedals that so caught my attention. I had numerous friends, so I hung out with my friend Jordan as I waited for Valerie to come into the building and onto the dance floor for the official 8th grade graduation. In my current stupor of thought I grabbed hold of Jordan's Hawaiian necklace and tore one of the plastic colors that were supposed to be flowers. As it came loose, not only the necklace was lost, but so was I. Suddenly all of my friends and other familiar faces eventually left me with an unfamiliar crowd. An unfamiliar crowd dancing to a rhythm I couldn't catch; experiencing a kind of honest fun that I didn't share. Although it closed in around me, encircling the entire room, the happiness of being with others faded away. Just at that moment I remembered why I acted so strangely, she finally came inside. Valerie looked absolutely stunning in her sparkling red dress, those velvety high heels and ruby earrings blurred all other human beings present that day. Her rosy lips brought out a smile that brought me straight into mindless euphoria. I had to act. I had to impress her in any way possible. I scanned for opportunities. Suddenly the music sunk into a slow and ethereal tempo. It was a slow dance. When someone needs a boost inside themselves, it's any form of motivation that gives a real kick. Unfortunately in this case, Valerie was my motivation. I collected whatever courage I could muster inside me and began to approach her. There was a bitter chill that prickled my tongue when the words could not come out. After a minute or 2, 5 of them did. "May I have this dance?" I asked politely. "No", she replied. A new slow dance-able song tuned in. The next opportunity presented itself. "Do you want to dance now?". "No", she persisted. Finally the DJ announces the final dedicatory slow dance song. This time I had to dance with her. "Pretty please, pretty as you?". "NO!" She almost screamed. Her partner took her by the arm l, and onto the dance floor. I had had it. I had lost it. I do not know which. I forced myself on between them, dancing desperately. In retrospect, I still can't believe I did that. Nor can I forget her loathing glance. After her scowl diminished, she whispers into her companion's ear, "Just ignore him". I walked away in shame, hiding my face.