Jenni James - Pride and Popularity

Thanks to one of my strappy sandals that came undone just as we were getting out of the car, Jordan and I entered the gym after the rest of the group. Everyone turned and stared at us, and I could tell many of the girls wondered who he was. His aura by far made up for whatever he lacked in the looks category. I don’t know how it works, but in a world where image is everything, Jordan created his own. He believed he was hot, so everyone else thought so as well. I felt so proud and beautiful to be on his arm as I walked into our decorated gymnasium.

About fifteen minutes into the dance, I realized that a worse deejay did not exist on the planet. I guess the money spent for a prom fundraiser couldn’t be wasted on a good deejay. Most of the music was ten years old or more. Don’t get me wrong—the Backstreet Boys and N’Sync are legends in their own right, but honestly, at a high school dance? All night? Yuck.

The dance floor was packed, so packed I couldn’t see everyone. Jordan and I had totally lost our group. The worst part was no one was really dancing because the music was so terrible.

“What do you want to do?” Jordan finally asked. Obviously, the dance was completely inferior to anything he was used to.

I felt bad for him. “I don’t know. Should we go?” I knew it had to be awkward for him to be at a high school dance anyway, and to be at one where people just stood around and gossiped had to be torture.

“You know what?” Jordan grinned. “I have a better idea. Look behind us.”

Except for a few people taking pictures by the photo scene, there was basically no one in the back corner of the gym. “What?” I said. “I don’t get it.”

He pointed to the empty part of the gym. “Look, that’s a huge dance floor just waiting to be danced on. No one is using it. So what do ya say? You want me to teach you some more ballroom moves?”

“Are you kidding me? Here? Now?” The idea had begun to make me smile, too.

“Sure why not?” He laughed. “It’s not like anyone is looking back there anyway.”

He had a point. “Can we?” I asked. “Even with this music on?”

“Sure. You can find rhythm in all types of music. You just have to listen for the beat.” He grabbed my hand and began to pull me toward the back. “Come on, I’ll show you.”

So that is how I came to be ballroom dancing at the back of the gym during our high school’s morp. I didn’t care if anyone saw us. It was so much fun. Jordan taught me advanced moves for the waltz, tango, cha-cha, rumba, and my personal favorite, the jive. I laughed so hard as we dipped and swayed along the back of the room that I didn’t even notice the attention we had attracted.

That was until about two-thirds of the way through the night, when Jordan asked, “So which guy is Taylor?”

“What?” I was confused.

“Taylor Anderson. I didn’t grow up here, remember? Which one is he?” Then Jordan spun us around to give me a view of the crowd that was watching us, which included almost everyone there! Shocked, I stumbled a bit, but in an expert move, he bent with me and smoothed over it to make the trip look like part of the dance.

It didn’t take long for me to pick out Taylor from the large group. He must’ve been standing there for a while, because he was in a pretty relaxed pose as he stared right at me. Thankfully, Jordan broke my connection with Taylor’s eyes as he spun me out into an extended spin—an extended spin that brought me approximately three feet from a very sulky Emmalee Bradford. Oops! Evidently she wasn’t too happy to spend her morp in the back of the gym as she listened to lousy music and watched me dance. I didn’t blame her.

And then I was gone, whisked into a series of rotations that brought me next to Jordan again. It was the most exhilarating experience, and he made me feel so, well, light.

“Taylor is the guy standing there in the red shirt,” I replied a little breathlessly.

“Yep. I figured it was him. That guy has not taken his eyes off you since we started dancing.”

“Really?” My steps faltered again.

Jordan effortlessly matched my pace and chuckled. “You sure he doesn’t like you? Kate said a bunch of stuff, but I’m not buying it. That, my friend, looks like a man in love.”

I gulped. “In love?” I couldn’t help myself; I turned my head to see Taylor.

“Whoa. Watch your step. There.” He spun me in the opposite direction of Taylor.

I didn’t even know I had messed up that time. “Sorry. Thanks.”

“So is that pretty li’l blond, the girl, then?” He laughed. “The one folding her arms and looking madder than a bull in Spain?”

“Yes. I feel bad.” I glanced back at Taylor again.

“Don’t look at him,” Jordan ordered. “Look right at me.”

“Why?”

“Chloe. Look into my eyes. There. Keep focused.”

They were brown. I didn’t know Jordan had brown eyes. And now they were laughing at me.

“What?” I grinned.

“Good. Keep looking at me and smiling. Very good.”

My smile grew. “Are you gonna answer me or what?”

“Do you want to make him jealous or what?” Jordan did a series of quick whirls that brought me up close to his side. I looked right into his eyes.

“Good girl. Very good. If you want to know what Taylor is doing, just ask me. I get to look at him, but you don’t. Understand? And believe me, I’m having more fun smiling at Taylor than I thought I would. He really doesn’t like me. Now just make sure your focus is on me.” We did three backward steps and then another series of twirls that brought my hip next to his other side. I stayed completely focused on Jordan.

I couldn’t stand it. “Okay. What’s he doing?” I intently studied the back of Jordan’s neck as he glanced over at Taylor.

After another group of breathtakingly fast-paced twirls, I was in front of Jordan again. One of his hands held my waist as he lowered me down for a dip.

Dip? We didn’t practice a dip!

Jordan’s leg slid as he lunged forward and allowed me to fall back more. He was in complete control. And so after my brief panic, I relaxed and trusted him. “He wishes he was in your arms already,” I heard Jordan whisper as my head fell back to enjoy the world upside down. With another twirl, Jordan’s hands encircled my waist as he spun me in an effortless lift back to standing position. “I have never seen such a hungry look on anyone’s face before. No—no, don’t look. Stare right at me.” The music ended. “Now laugh,” he directed.

“I am laughing.” I giggled.

“Good girl.” He chuckled and then looked at Taylor. I thought I saw him wink. Jordan looked back at me. “That boy is putty in your hands.” 

Saturday morning at 10:00 found me luxuriously lying in my bed as I ignored everything I had to do. My mind raced with thoughts of the dance the night before. The whole way home, Alyssa and Madison had praised Jordan nonstop for his dancing abilities and how we were the only thing that made the dance worth attending. I laughed to myself at the memory of Jordan’s imitation of Taylor, performed for us on the way home. Good. Taylor deserves to see what it’s like to want something. I smiled again and stretched my wiggling toes, thinking of Madison and her date, Collin.

Collin had handled being around me pretty well. I mean, there was a brief awkwardness at the beginning of the evening when we all met at my house, but nothing like what I thought it would be. I guess my dad was right. For the most part, Collin managed to avoid talking to me at all by playing with his phone.

Alyssa seemed to enjoy herself. I could tell she wasn’t too impressed with her friend from the orchestra class, but he was nice. I think they were one of the only other couples who actually danced to a few songs.

I was so busy with Jordan in the back of the gym that I really didn’t see much of anyone else at the dance. We did all get together and have our picture taken at the very end, which was cool. I was glad I would have something to remind myself of morp.

“Chloe?” My mom knocked on my door. “You’ve got a phone call.”

“Come in,” I called as I sat up.

“Here.” Mom handed me the phone. “Don’t talk too long, okay? We’ve got chores today.”

“All right.” I nodded my head. I waited until my mom had left the room before I said, “Hello?”