Page 126 of Happiness for Beginners

I gave in with a shrug, like,Oh, what the hell.

For years after that whole prom-night debacle with Dave and Darcy, I’d fantasized about revenge. We’d all coincidentally wind up on a cruise, for example, and it would sink, and I’d sincerely try to row the lifeboat to them in time, but the sharks would catch their scent, and despite my valiant efforts, I’d be forced to watch them torn limb from limb.

I didn’t have to rescue them tonight. I didn’t even have to try. I had every legitimate reason in the world to abandon this sinking ship and just go the hell home. But I had a funny little epiphany on the edge of that dance floor. I really did love to dance. And if I could do it with only sticks and stones for music with people named Caveman and Caboose, I could just as well do it here.

That’s how I wound up striding out into the middle of that empty floor, all alone, doing a dance I’d never even heard the music to, using my arms to beckon the kids and the grandparents to come out and join me. None of them did, but soon Duncan showed up to hand me a wireless mic.

“Hey, everybody,” I said, my voice suddenly so loud I even startled myself. Everyone turned in my direction, including Dave and Darcy. At the sight, Darcy dropped her phone hand from her ear. “I’m, um,Big Sister,and this is my partner—” I turned to Duncan.

“Bilbo Baggins,” he said.

I covered the mic and gave him a look, like,What the hell?“No. You can’t be Bilbo Baggins.”

I started again. “And this is my partner, D-Dog. We’re here to teach you some dances, so get on over to the floor. Where’s Sean Hoffman, by the way?”

At that, a non-bald thirteen-year-old version of my high school boyfriend raised his hand.

“Well, that apple didn’t fall far from the tree!Mazel tov,Sean! Get on down here. And bring some friends. Or grandparents.”

Sean Hoffman was nothing if not obedient.

“Where are the ladies?” I said into the mic. “Girls, get down here!”

A grandmother came out and gave me a big thumbs-up.

“Okay, friends. Easiest dance in the world. Seriously. When the song says ‘to the right,’ take a step to the right. When it says ‘to the left,’ take a step to the left. What do you think you’re going to do when it says ‘now kick’?”

The kids stared at me blankly.

I pressed the mic up to my mouth. “What are you going to do when the song says ‘kick’?” I demanded.

“Kick?” Sean answered at last.

I pointed. “Correct! A hundred points!” That was the moment when I found a groove. I was a teacher, after all. I might not know much, but I knew more than these kittens. I knew how to give a lesson. Age thirteen was still age thirteen, and everybody had to start somewhere. I scanned the crowd. More kids were starting to come down. Safety in numbers. Thank God the song was catchy.

I started. Duncan joined me. We had the DJ play the song three more times, and by the end, almost everybody had the hang of it. The kids were relaxing. We’d crossed the terror threshold. For them—and for me, too.

“Now, we change it up,” I said, as I finally gave the okay to change the song. “And D-Dog is going to demonstrate. This is the Step-Clap. You step to the side, and when you bring your feet together, you clap. Then go the other way. It’s the building block of dancing.” From the Step-Clap, we moved on to the Spin, the Wiggle, the Booty-Shake, the John Travolta, the Figure Eight, and the Ooch. I made them all up on the spot. It was dance improv, and I was good, but Duncan was better. We wound up taking turns, and his contributions were the Umbrella, the Bullet-Train, the Honky Tonk, the Marilyn Monroe, the Slip-N-Slide, the Do-Nut, the Banana Peel, and the Talk to the Hand.

Here’s the thing. They bought it. They accepted our authority. They believed we were party motivators. Hell, we almost believed it ourselves. Pretty soon, even the grandparents were out on the floor. Including, suddenly, out of nowhere, Grandma GiGi, in a fabulous red pantsuit.

“What are you doing here?” I shouted, when I got close enough.

“I was invited,” she said, not losing the beat. “With a plus-one.”

“Why were you invited?” I asked.

“They love me!” she said. “I went to their wedding, too.”

I stopped dancing. “You went to their wedding?”

GiGi waved a finger at me, doing her own little version of the Oh No You Didn’t.

“You went to the wedding of my cheating boyfriend and lying best friend?”

She shrugged. “They were nice kids.”

“Not to me, they weren’t!”

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