Dancefloor

The music was thumping, and I was doing my best to avoid the dance floor. I was currently standing around the drinks table of the school hall with a couple other guys. There was no real conversation going, just the occasional shout into each other’s ear from an observation about either the room or somebody’s weird dancing.

Really, what was the point of school dances? Really, what genius came up with the idea that getting a bunch of twelve year olds and stuffing them into a hall so that all the girls and a minimal number of boys could dance? It was just silly. I knew it, the teachers knew it and heck, the principal probably knew it and she was the one who organised it. There were so many better things I could be doing right now. For example, instead of listening to this rubbish the DJ thought was cool, he was very mistaken at that, I could be sitting on my couch at home listening to my IPod. Now that was real music.

I had been standing around outside earlier, but we had been forced by the chaperones to come back inside. It had been good for that short while. We could talk without destroying each other’s eardrums and it was nice and cool. Back inside however, the temperature was probably exceeding 30 degrees and even though we were as far away from the speakers as humanly possible, I’m pretty sure I’m going deaf from its volume.

“Why aren’t you guys dancing?” I turned away from the other guys to see a girl in my class looking a little angry at us. I personally thought that was pretty stupid. She had been one of the main supporters of this dance idea. She had helped set it up earlier in the day and everything.

“Are you even serious right now? Why aren’t we dancing? Dancing sucks! I don’t dance. I have better things to do than to move to low quality music.” I said with a sneer.

“You mean like stand around and watch other people dance?” She smiled. The worst part was that she had a point.

“I’m sorry to say that I won’t be degrading myself to your level tonight Rose.” Clearly that was the wrong thing to say. Her eyebrows shot together and a scowl marred her face quicker than I thought possible.

“You think that you’re so smart-”

“I know that I’m smart. There’s a difference.” I interrupted.

“You are so annoying!” She exclaimed.

“Good one. Do you write Christmas cards?” If looks could kill, I would have been dead before I hit the floor. She pushed past me.

“Do you two want to dance?” She asked them, not quite keeping the anger from her voice. My two friends looked at each other, then nodded their consent. She grabbed one hand from each of them and pulled them to the dance floor. She then gave them to a couple of her friends for them to dance with.

I just shook my head. I wasn’t sure whether I should be doing my best to find a camera somewhere or sit down against a wall and feel bad that my friends had deserted me. I would have to admit, the latter did sting a little. It was bad enough being bored out of my brain with a couple of friends at my side, it was a whole new story on my own.

I looked around. I knew I would look stupid and probably a little desperate for someone to talk to me if I stayed around the drinks table. Being desperate was something I did not do. I did have an image to keep up. That was another reason not to dance; it made you look stupid. That was another thing I didn’t do.

There were some seats along the wall about halfway between where I was now, and the speakers for the music. It was also halfway down the dance floor. I sighed. It was probably the best option. It gave me a seat and made me look like less of a loner. I am willing to sacrifice my lifelong hearing so that I don’t look stupid. Some would probably say that was silly but they obviously had no idea how to make themselves look good.