Free Laughing at My Nightmare by Shane Burcaw Page A

with?” one of my friends would inevitably ask the rest of the table.
    “Emily.”
    “Hannah.”
    “Obviously Taylor since we’ve been dating for three weeks.”
    I sat quietly munching on my burrito, laughing when appropriate, joking when it felt right, but generally not contributing much to the conversation. My friends never questioned me about who I was taking to the dance. They all seemed to know I wasn’t taking anyone. I planned on attending, but I was confident that no girl would want to go with me, so I didn’t even bother going through the motions of getting my hopes up only to be rejected. Flying solo wasn’t the end of the world. Some of my friends were doing the same thing, including Becca, who could have taken any boy she wanted, but felt that the whole concept was rather silly. She and I decided to just go together, since we had the same group of friends, anyway.
    The night of the big dance had finally arrived. Sweat had penetrated through the quadruple layers of Old Spice and was creating a tiny river down the side of my body, and I hadn’t even left yet. I may have been attending the sixth grade dance with a member of my own family, but that didn’t stop my mind from hyping this night up as a huge milestone in my quest for normalcy and acceptance. Not having a girlfriend to attend the dance with felt lame, but Becca and I would have an amazingly hilarious night despite that fact. Also, in the back of my mind, I held on to the hope of catching a pretty girl’s heart on the dance floor. I needed to be on top of my game.
    I had to start by looking fresh. I can imagine getting a disabled person ready for a middle school dance is one of the most obnoxious tasks on earth. My dad knew how big this night was, and didn’t complain as I asked him to shower me, change my outfit several times, brush my teeth, help me do mouthwash and reapply deodorant, and comb my still-very-long-hair multiple times. It took us over an hour, which was an eternity compared to our normal routine of carelessly-grab-shirt-and-pants-that-probably-don’t-match-and-only-partake-in-personal-hygiene-if-absolutely-required. My dad was a champ for putting up with me. As much as I tried, nothing that I did made me feel attractive, which probably had a lot to do with the massive hunk of grimy, rusty metal that sat beneath me. Oh, well. I never envisioned winning a girl over with my looks alone.
    My dad drove Becca and me to the dance in our accessible van. We joked along the way about ways that we could convince our friends that we were actually dating. Upon dropping us off, my dad wished us a good time and told us he’d be in the same spot to pick us up when the dance ended.
    The school gym was dark and filled with bodies. Smashed into the center of the floor was a huge pack of kids, bumping and grinding to the unexpectedly loud music. Farther from the center floated many smaller groups of friends—some dancing, others talking and laughing. The perimeter of the gym was reserved for loners, chaperones, and the two nerds playing an intense game of Pokemon underneath a set of bleachers. I took in this scene and lost most of the confidence I had worked up. This was clearly an event for able-bodied people, and I’m not sure why I imagined a DANCE would be any different.
I do a mean Robot.
    Friends noticed our arrival and sprinted over to us, hugging Becca and smiling and waving at me. Lizz tried to make conversation with me.
    “Hey, Shane! Are you ready to dance?” she asked excitedly, performing a few cute little moves in front of my chair.
    “Definitely! I’ve been practicing my moves for a few weeks.” I yelled, battling the loud music.
    “What?!” she yelled back, leaning closer and putting her ear to my face. I said it again, trying to be louder, but suddenly realizing that my puny voice was no match for the roar of the music. “I can’t hear you! I’m gonna go dance!” she replied.
    That sucked. It sucked more to look over